Old Bailey Proceedings.
10th July 1871
Reference Number: t18710710

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
10th July 1871
Reference Numberf18710710

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Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers in the Court,










On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, July 10th, 1871, and following days,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS DAKIN, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir WILLIAM BOVILL , Knt., Lord Chief Justice of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; Sir WILLIAM FRY CHANNELL, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; THOMAS CHALLIS , Esq., Sir DAVID SALOMONS , Bart., M.P., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., Sir ROBERT WALTER GARDEN , Knt., Sir WILLIAM ANDERSON ROSE , Knt., WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., and WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir SYDNEY HEDLEY WATERLOW , Knt., ANDREW LUSK , Esq., M.P., and CHARLES WHETHAM, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.









A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.


OLD COURT.—Monday, July 10th, 1871.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-496
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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496. WILLIAM CORBETT (22), MARY CORBETT (19), SARAH INWOOD (26), and ELIZABETH JENKINS (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Bellingkrodt, and stealing dresses and skirts and a gold watch, his property.

MESSRS. POLAND and MOODY conducted the Prosecution; MR. STRAIGHT defended—William and Mary Corbett; and MR. RIBTON defended Inwood and Jenkins.

JOHN JONES . I am assistant to Mr. Folkard, pawnbroker, 67, Gray's Inn Road—this violet lama dress (produced) was pawned at our shop on 5th April—to the best of my knowledge it was pledged by the prisoners Inwood and Jenkins, in the name of Woodhouse—it was redeemed the next day, when all three of the female prisoners came—I had advanced 3s., on it, and I gave the change for the money that was tendered to Inwood—I also produce a rep dress, pledged for 7s., in the name of Cooper—I don't know by whom—I knew Jenkins before, and Inwood slightly.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I say to the best of my belief the lama dress was pawned by Inwood and Jenkins—I am not positive—they were all three there when it was redeemed—I gave the dress and the change to Inwood—she pledged a pair of trowsers to redeem the dress—I don't know whether they were her own—I did not see her hand any money to Corbett.

Re-examined. I knew Jenkins by the name of Smith—I did not know Inwood sufficiently to know her by any name—I have no doubt that all three were there when the dress was taken out.

EDWARD MORGAN . I am assistant to Mr. Ballworthy, pawnbroker, of 11 and 12, Aylesbury Street—I produce a black silk dress, pawned on 5th April by Jenkins and Inwood, for 1l., in the name of Mary Smith—I also produce a fancy striped dress, pledged on the same day for 10s., by the three female prisoners, in the name of Anderson—I could not say which of the three it was gave the name of Anderson.

EDWARD PEARSON . I urn assistant to Mr. Morris, of 10, Little Bath Street, pawnbroker—I produce a black moire antique skirt, pledged on the 4th April—to the best of my belief it was pawned by the two prisoners Inwood and Jenkins, in the name of Ann Smith, of John Street.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I should not like to speak with any certainty as to the two women, but they were the two, to the best of my belief—I said that before the Magistrate.

HENRY WENHAM (Police Inspector E.) From information I received I went with Shannon on Thursday evening, 6th April, shortly after 9 o'clock, and took William Corbett into custody—in my presence, at a public-house at the corner of Leather Lane, Shannon told him that he wanted him for being concerned with others not in custody for stealing various articles at 122, Southampton Row, and 104, High Holborn—I did not hear him say anything then—we took him to Hunter Street Police Station, and left him there—I afterwards went to 14, Holborn Buildings, and found Mrs. Corbel at the door—that was about 11 o'clock at night, as near as I could say—said I wanted her for being concerned with others in a robbery at Southampton Row and Hoi born, and I asked her what she had up stairs—"Nothing but what is my own," she said—I said "Let me see"—she went up stairs to the second-floor back room, and I followed—I found this violet lama dress on the table—I said "Where did you get that from?"—she said "I bought the ticket of Sally Porter, for 1s., and we went together today to get it out"—I searched the room, but found nothing else relating to that robbery—while I was searching the room she said "I heard that Bill and two others are locked up, do you know what for; he has not been long gone out?"—I did not make any reply—I took her to the station—on the way she said "Countryman knows all about this, and if I have done wrong before, I shall speak the truth this time"—I took her to the station, and she was charged with the male Corbett—I then went to 44, Baldwin's Gardens and found Inwood and Jenkins in bed—I told them I wanted them for being concerned in the robberies in Holborn and Southampton Row—they said they knew nothing about it, "It'd a pretty time of night to come and disturb any one"—I found nothing there—I have the dresses in my possession—there is a black silk, a fancy striped dress, and a brown rep.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I had not been with Shannon the whole day—I was not there when he met Corbett, earlier in the day—Shannon was not a sergeant at that time; he was an ordinary constable—he was not a detective.

JOHN SHANNON (Policeman X 153). After William Corbett was taken into custody, I was at the station—he said to me "Who's cracked"—I said "No one"—he then said "You are all wrong"—when Mary Corbett was brought to the station, they were put in separate cells—I was in the cells the same night—I heard Mary say "Bill, how do they know of your bit in Dover?"—he said "They have got a midge at Scotland Yard"—she said "Did you tell them what name was on the back of it?"—he said "Yes, he was a square copper, so I told him Hendley"—by copper he meant policeman—she said "Connor is on the back of mine"—he said "Well, that is all right, that is your maiden name; you must crack and say I don't know anything about the dress; say I had gone out before you brought it home"—she said "How can I, the pawn knows what time I got it out, and if he comes down, he will settle us"—Corbett said "Countryman has done this for us, and if does not give us a mouthpiece we shall be settled."

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. No one was with roe—I was standing still, listening to them—I went there for the purpose—I have been in the force three or four years—I know a woman named Porter, she is in the dock—Inwood goes by that name—I don't know a servant of that name.

JULIA WELSH . I live at 9, Holborn Buildings—No. 14 belongs to my husband—the prisoners, William and Mary Corbett, lived there—they rented a room of me.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. They livid there as man and wife—they were both together when the rooms were taken—they had been there about three weeks when they were taken into custody.

CHARLES BELLINGKRODT . I am a turner and carver, at 104, High Hoiborn—there is a private door, which is unlocked in the daytime—it is a swing door, and anyone can walk in without turning the handle—on Wednesday morning, 5th April, I left the rooms locked up—my wife locked the bedroom on the first floor, about 8 o'clock—the key is always kept down stairs in my room—about 2 o'clock in the day my wife called my attention to that room, and I went up stairs—I found the door had been broken open, and the room was in disorder, and a quantity of things were taken away—I identify this violet lama dress as my wife's dress—that was safe in the morning—this brown rep dress, the fancy striped dress, the black silk dress, and the moire antique, also belong to my wife—I also missed a gold watch with an ivory chain attached to it—I identify the male prisoner as a man I saw some days before loitering about near my place—I spoke to him—I said "What do you want?"—he said "Where does this passage lead to?"—I said "It leads to the yard, but what do you want?"—he said, "Well, my sister has just gone in this house with a swell"—I said "That can't be, as this house is a respectable house, 'and only respectable persons live here, but you have got the option to go up"—he Said "No, I will fetch a policeman first"—I said "Yes, you had better do so," and he went away—it way about 9.30 in the evening when I was shutting up my shop—he was alone—I believe the prisoner to be the same man.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I have stated before that I am not quite sure.

SARAH BELLINGKRODT . On Wednesday morning, 5th April, I locked up my bedroom about 8 o'clock, and brought the key down stairs—I went up at 2.30, and found the door had been forced—I opened the door, and found my watch was gone—I went into the room after I had called my husband, and I then missed this violet lama dress—that is worth about 7s., 6d., it has been a great deal worn; this brown rep dress is worth about 1l.; and the fancy striped dress about 35s.,; the black silk is worth about 3l.; and the moire antique about 25s., or 30s., that is nearly worn out—I don't know any of the prisoners.

JOHN SHANNON (re-called.) I saw Corbett about half an hour before I took him—I stopped in Saffron Hill, and searched him, as he saw I was following him, and I did it to throw off suspicion—I apprehended him about half an hour after that.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-497
VerdictsNot Guilty > directed; Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown

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497. The said prisoners were again , , indicted for stealing two jackets, two mantles, and other articles, and 4l. in money, the property of Amelia Goddard, in her dwelling-house—Nine Months' Imprisonment. And HENRY MORRIS for feloniously receiving part of the said goods, knowing them to have been stolen.

MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution; MR. RIBTON defended Inwood and

Jenkins, and MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE appeared for Morris.

THE COURT was of opinion, upon hearing MR. POLAND'S opening, that there was no case against the Corbetts or Morris.

JAMES HALL . I am assistant to Mr. Morris, the defendant, who is a pawnbroker, carrying on business in Little Bath Street—on Tuesday, 4th July, from 4 to 4.30, the prisoner Jenkins pledged this black velvet mantle for 1l., in the name of Ann Smith, 7, Duke Street—about 5.30 to 6 o'clock the same day, she brought this silver gravy spoon, broken—I asked her if it was her own—she said it was, she had broken it by treading on it—she asked me to buy it—I asked what she wanted—she said 12s.,—Mr. Morris at the time was unwell, in the parlour—I took the spoon to him, and showed it to him, and afterwards gave the 12s., to Jenkins; and the spoon, was sold on the Thursday morning to Mr. Josephs, among other old silver.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I am certain that I took the mantle and spoon from Jenkins—I saw her afterwards on the 8th, at Hunter Street, in custody—I had known her before as a customer—I can't say how often she had been there, several times—sometimes pawning in the name of Jenkins, and sometimes Smith—she had not pawned in the name of Smith before the mantle, to my knowledge—the salesman was in the shop at the time, and saw me buy the spoon—the policeman came to me on the Thursday, and said he had a woman in custody for the mantle, and he took me to see her on the Saturday morning—he asked if we had taken in a mantle—he did not ask me about the spoon.

Re-examined. I took in the other mantle, a second-hand one—I produce it—the police have the ticket—this is it (produced)—I took it in on 4th April, for 5s.,—this pair of boots was inside it—I won't positively swear who brought it—to the best of my belief it was Inwood, but I can't swear—she gave the name of Inwood, John Street, and I entered it on the ticket—I can't say the time it was pledged.

MR. RIBTON. Q. How recently, before 4th April, have you seen Jenkins? A. I can't remember, it might be a week, a fortnight, or a month—I can't say for certain; she was a customer—I can't call to mind any positive transaction with her, but I know she was a customer before—to the best of my belief I had seen her at our place within two months—I can't say what she pawned then—we had perhaps 300 or 400 transactions on 4th April.

AMELIA GODDARD . lam a widow, and live at 122, Southampton Row—on Tuesday, 4th April, about the middle of the day, I missed from the second floor two velvet mantles, and other property—this (produced) is one of them—it is new, and is worth about 6l.—I missed it about 12.30—this other velvet mantle is also mine, I saw it safe at the same time—it is worth about 1l.—these boots are also mine, and this gravy spoon—there is a dent in it by which I know it; it is silver—I also lost about 4l. in silver and 2s., in copper, and some plated spoons and forks—there is a side door to my house—it was open.

EDWARD PEARSON . I am assistant to Mr. Morris—I was in the shop on Tuesday, 4th April, when this new mantle was brought there, but I did not see it taken in—I noticed the person who brought it, it was Jenkins—I did not see the second mantle and boots brought in—I have no recollection about it.

Cross-examined. Jenkins brought the spoon, we bought it of her—I did not see the person who brought the mantle—I was there when it was

bought, but I suppose I was doing something else—I knew Jenkins before by sight, as a customer—I had seen her several times before, and taken in things from her—when I saw her after 4th April she was in custody at the Police Court—the policeman did not come for me, I went with Mr. Morris—I knew before that that Hall had said she was the person who pawned the mantle and spoon,

JENKINS GUILTY Twelve Months Imprisonment.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-498
VerdictsNot Guilty > directed; Not Guilty > directed

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498. GRACE WILSON (25) , Stealing 71 trusses of hay, of William Warnes.

MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BOTTOMLEY the Defence. WILLIAM WARNES. I am a general merchant, of King's Lynn, Norfolk—about 6th March, last year, I had about 150 tons of hay to dispose of, which I advertised in the Lynn Advertiser—I afterwards received some letters, which are here; they are upon printed bill-heads—I have not the first letter—here is the final order, of 10th March—I forwarded a sample truck, and a receipt—I afterwards received a cheque, which I paid in to the King's Lynn Bank, on me account—it was dishonoured—I had orders to forward three other trucks—the value of the sample truck was about 6l. 14s.,

JOSEPH HISTELL . I live at 4, Market Terrace, Caledonian Road—I had a shop and parlour to let at No. 6, about February, 1870—a person called on me, and looked at the place; he gave the name of Harris—an arrangement was made, and this is the agreement which he signed—I saw him sign it, but I never saw him afterwards—on the Saturday week following, the prisoner called, and asked whether a person named Harris had taken my premises—I said "Yes," and I was surprised I had not seen him before, as I thought the place would have been opened—she said it was her brother, and he had gone down to the country, to bury his brother—on the following Monday or Tuesday, she came again, and had the name of Harris put up over the facial, and also a letter-box put in the shutters, and that was the only time the shutters were taken down—she remained he possession up to 9th April, when she gave up the key to my wife—she first represented herself as Miss Harris, and afterwards as Mrs. Harris—she paid the rent, 12s., a week; I received it from her weekly—I never saw anyone but her about the premises, except a coal boy, about a week before I got possession of the place—the place was never opened except in the morning, to collect the letters—the prisoner collected them—I should say I saw her go and collect the letters at least four mornings out of the six, in each week.

Cross-examined. It was two days before the agreement was signed that I first saw Harris; about 24th February—I don't know that I should know him again if I saw him; I might—I only saw him twice—he said he was—going to open the shop as a seed merchant and salesman, and being close to the cattle market, he thought he should do a good business—I asked him for a reference, and he gave me one at 9, John Street West, Caledonian Road—I did not go to that reference—before he signed the agreement; I thought he looked a highly respectable man, and there was no necessity to do so—I went afterwards—when the prisoner came, I asked her the reason why the shop was not opened—she first said his brother was dead, and he had gone to bury him; afterwards, she said he had gone down to the country, to attend to his brother's business, as the brother had got a very

severe attack of gout—I first knew her as Mrs. Harris about three weeks afterwards—I began to think it very suspicious—the shop was kept on for six weeks—she did not live on the premises—I never knew where she did live—I asked her about Harris several times, and the excuse was that she expected him home very shortly, and the shop would be opened.

WILLIAM HENRY HAWKINS . I am a printer, of 80, Copenhagen Street—about 1st March, last year, the prisoner brought me an order for some memorandums; I was to print 250, of two sorts—these bill-heads are my printing, in pursuance of that order—they were delivered to the prisoner—she called for them, and I gave them to her, and she then left a further order for linen labels to affix to parcels—they were for the same address, and the same name—that order was never completed, in consequence of the first not being paid for—she gave the name of Harris & Co.—she did not say what her name was.

WILLIAM ROBERT NORRIS . I am a clerk in the Birkbeck Bank—in December, 1869, an account was opened in the name of Harris—a sum of 19l. 10s., was paid in; 15l. of that was a country cheque, which was afterwards dishonoured—a cheque-book was given when the account was opened—the cheque produced came out of that book—it was presented at our bank, and marked "Not sufficient"—I have the signature of the person who opened the account, "C. Harris;" precisely the same as the signature to the cheque—I should say the signature to the agreement is not the same.

WILLIAM WHETHAM (Detective Officer 7). In March, 1870, I was keeping observation of No. 5, Market Terrace, Caledonian Road, for about a month—I had received certain information—the name of "Harris & Co." was over the door—the shutters were never taken down—I saw the prisoner go in several times—I tried to follow her, and see where she went to, but I could never make out where she went to—I never saw anyone in the shop, or any business carried on.

Cross-examined. This was a year ago—I was not there every day, sometimes I missed a day or two—I passed the shop three, four, five, or six times a day, during March.

THOMAS FOSTER . I am a clerk, at the Devonshire Street Station of the Great Eastern Railway—I produce the delivery-book, which was in use in March, last year—I find an entry of seventy-one trusses of hay, from Lynn, for H. Wilson—it is signed "For H. Wilson"—I have also a delivery-order, signed "Henry Wilson."

THE RECORDER we of opinion that, in the absence of any proof that the letters ordering the goods were written by the prisoner, or with her sanction, there was no case to go to the Jury.


There were three other indictments against the prisoner for like offences, in which, the letters ordering the goods not being traced to the prisoner, the RECORDER also directed a verdict of


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-499
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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499. FRANK BEEDLE (16) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 30l., with intent to defraud.

MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM WALKER . I am a cashier at the Union Bank, Chancery Lane Branch—Mr. Philipe keeps an account there—on 31st May the prisoner presented this cheque for 30l., payable to D. Child, and purporting to be signed E. H. de Philipe—I asked him how he would take the money—he replied "Two 10l. notes, a 5l. note, and 6l. in gold"—on looking at the cheque

I doubted the signature—I went and examined it with other cheques, which confirmed my suspicion—I made a communication to the assistant manager, and then asked the lad into the manager's room—he was asked from whom he brought the cheque—he said from Mr. Child's, the solicitor, in Throgmorton Street, and that he was in Mr. Child's employ—he was asked to take a seat—I left the room with the assistant manager, to discover from what cheque-book the cheque had been taken, leaving the prisoner there, and when we returned he was gone—I produce an order for a cheque-book.

EDWARD HERBERT DE PHILIPE . I am a solicitor, of 7, Gray's Inn Square—the prisoner had been in my employ, but left six or seven months before this—he was out of a situation for about two months, and then went to Mr. Herbert, of New Inn—at the time he was in my service I kept an account at the Union Bank—the signature to this cheque is not mine—no one was authorized to put it there.

Prisoner. Q. Is the cheque in my handwriting? A. cannot say for certain whether it is or not—it certainly has a resemblance to it, from the fact of its being in a shaky style, like yours—the body of this order for a cheque-book is in the prisoner's writing decidedly—the signature is an imitation of mine—it is not mine, or authorized by me—(Redd: "30th May, 1871. Please favour me with the amount of my balance, and also a cheque-book, for which the bearer will pay. Edward Herbert de Philipe.")

PHILIP HINES (Detective Officer E.) From information I received, I took the prisoner into custody at the Union Bank, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 2nd June—I told him that I was a police-officer, and that he would be given into my custody for forging and uttering a cheque for 30th, and also for obtaining a cheque-book by means of a forged order—he said "Yes"—he was about to say something more—I told him he need not say anything to me without be liked, whatever he said I might use in evidence against him or for him at his trial—a few words passed; I told him I did not think he was the only one concerned in the case—he said no, he was not—I asked him who the other one was—he said "I shan't tell you, if I did I should be called a cowerd"—I then asked him what he had done with the cheque-book—he said he had torn it np and thrown it down the water closet in the New Inn—I asked him where the cheques were—he said he had filled up four or five, and they did not suit him, and he had destroyed them.

Prisoner. Q. Did I tell you that I was guilty? A. I do not say you did—you said you knew who the other party was, but you would not tell of him because you would be called a coward.

ALFRED MASON . I am a clerk in the Union Bank—I received this order for a cheque-book, from a lad, on the day it bears date—I handed a cheque-book—it contained this cheque.

Prisoner. Q. Was it I who produced the order? A. I could not swear; it was a lad, that is all I can say.

The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate.—"I have nothing to say."

Prison Defence.—I think I have said quite enough, but I did not tell the officer that I was guilty. At the time I was arrested I was in the employ of Mr. Herbert, of 5, New Inn. I wrote to him in the afternoon of 2nd June, to tell him I thought I should be with him in the afternoon, because I was absent on the day previous. Mr. Philipe visited me on 31st May, and told me that a cheque had been presented at his bank for payment of 30l., and asked whether I had done it; I told him I hat, although I knew

nothing whatever of the affair. The reason I told him I had done it was because he had a matter of business to settle for my mother; he had known my father and mother many years, and I thought if I denied the accusation he would refuse to act, and thereby put us to great inconvenience and trouble, besides incurring considerable expense. I have been en trusted with several sums of money exceeding 30l. during my stay with Mr. Herbert, and he can give a satisfactory account of my character.

GUILTYRecommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youthMr. Herbert subsequently deposed to the prisoner's good character.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-500
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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500. HENRY LANE (40) , PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for forging and uttering requests for the delivery of goods— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-501
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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501. WILLIAM NORRIS (30) , to unlawfully obtaining 1l. by false pretences— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-502
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty

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502. HENRY JAMES MITCHELL (23) , to breaking and entering the Church of the Parish of West Drayton, also to stealing one soup ladle and other articles, the property of Robert Lille de Burgh, in his dwelling-house— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-503
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty

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503. JOHN CONROY (26) , to three indictments for forging and uttering receipts for the payment of money with intent to defraud; also to stealing an order for 14l. 14s., 6d., of Frederick Leighton, his master— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] The Prosecutor recommended him to mercyEighteen Months' Imprisonment. And

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-504
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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504. JULIA MAHONEY (34) , to a robbery, with violence, on Richard Payment, and stealing one watch, his property—having been before convicted— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

NEW COURT.—Monday, July 10th, 1871.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-505
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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505. JAMES BUTLER (30) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after two previous convictions of a like offence.

Ten years' Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-506
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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506. JOHN RICKETTS (26) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

MARY ANN BAKER . My father-in-law keeps the Burdett Tavern, Lime-house—on 31st May I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, and he gave me a bad shilling—I bent it with my teeth, took the ale back, and refused to serve him—he was sober—I marked the shilling, and gave it to the police.

Cross-examined. When I refused to serve him he said "All right, I will go to some other place."

JOHN SPARKS . I am the father-in-law of the last witness—on 31st May, between 5 and 6 o'clock, she called me, and gave me a bad shilling—the prisoner had then gone out—I followed him to the Prince of Wales, opposite.

HOWARD PEARCE . I keep the Victoria beer-shop, opposite Mr. Sparks—on 31st May, between 5 and 6 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a glass of ale—he gave me a bad shilling—I tested it, and told him it was bad—he was sober—he threw down a good one—I kept them both, and gave them to the policeman.

Cross-examined. I knew him as a customer—he was in and out two or three times a week, but I never In I had money from him before.

—.(Policeman K 456). The prisoner was given into my custody at the Victoria Tavern—he said that he should get off for it—I searched him there, and found in his left pocket two bad shillings, one in tissue paper, and the other loose, also 7s., 9d. in silver—he was sober, but pretended to be drunk after we left the Victoria.

Cross-examined. He held his head forward and stumbled.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I assist my father, the Inspector of Coin to the Mint—these four shillings are bad; one of those found is from the same mould as the two uttered.

GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in May, 1862.— Nine Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-507
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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507. JOHN JACKSON (36), was indicted for a like offence. MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.

MARY ANN GREAGSBY . I keep the Cock Inn, St. Andrew's Hill—on 30th May, about 10 a.m., the prisoner and another man came in; they had two glasses of ale, and the prisoner asked me for change for a sovereign—I gave it to him in silver, and he asked if I could not give him a half-sovereign, which I did—he came again just before 12 o'clock, and changed a half-sovereign, which I laid by in a hurry—I put it in a glass with some 3d. and 6d. pieces—at 2.20 he came again for a glass of ale, and laid down a half-sovereign—I gave him 9s., 10d. change—he went away in a hurry, and I looked at the half-sovereign, and found it was bad, and the one in the glass was also bad—I sent for a policeman—the prisoner had then theft—I went to the station, and sent to Mr. Rivers, of Water Lane—as I came back I found the prisoner at the Queen's Head, Water Lane, and saw him lay down a florin—I fetched a constable—they then looked at the florin, found it was bad, and the prisoner was given in custody.

Prisoner. I never was there, and never saw the woman in my life? Witness. I am sure of you—I saw you three times in the same day.

EMILY FOREST . I am barmaid to Mrs. Greagsby—I saw the prisoner give her a half-sovereign on 30th May, and am positive he is the person.

JOHN RIVERS . I am barman at the Queen's Head, Water Lane, Blackfriars—on 30th May, about 2.20, I served the prisoner with 1 1/2 d. worth of rum and shrub; he gave me a florin, I put it in the till and gave him the change, there were only two shillings there—while he was drinking, Mr. Greagsby came in with a constable—I then looked in the till and found the florin was bad—I gave the prisoner in custody with the florin.

JOHN FREEMAN (Policeman.) I was called and took the prisoner to the station—he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money—I seized his hand and we had a great struggle, but with assistance I secured him and took him to the station—he would not let me take the money—he said "Let me put it back in my pocket again," which he did, and I took it out—it consisted of a shilling and some halfpence—I found 1l. 8s., 10d. on him at the station, and a watch and chain—I also produce two half-sovereigns and a florin.

WILLLAM JOHN WEBSTER . These two half-sovereigns are bad, and from the same mould—the florin is bad.

Prisoner's Defence. "Does it stand reasonable that they should take the gold and not try it? I am a hard working man."

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-508
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

508. WILLIAM LE VON (32), was indicted for feloniously uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN SAVERS . I am a brush maker, of 405 A, Kentish Town Road—on Thursday, May 5, between 7 and 8 o'clock, Williams (see next case) came in for a tooth brush, which cost him 3rf.—he gave me a florin, I tried it, a detector took a piece out of it, and I told him it was bad—he said that he had been to the Derby and had taken it there—he gave me a good one, saying, "Try that"—I gave him the charge of the larger piece of the florin, and gave the smaller piece to Y 428; this is it (produced)—and this is the tooth brush I sold.

AUGUSTUS JAMES STRICKLAND . I am assistant to Mr. Barnes, a chemist, of 323, Kentish Town Road—on 25th May, about 8.30, p.m., I served Williams with some capsules, which came to 4d.—they were not in a box—I wrapped them in paper—he gave me a florin, I tried it, it bent easily, and I told him it was bad—he said "A bad one, is it?"—I tested it with caustic, and it turned black—he gave me a good florin, and I gave him 1s., 8d. change, and returned him the bad florin—that is Williams in the dock—I saw him next at the Police Court, with the police, and charged him—I was shown a dozen capsules at the station, they were in a box, they were like what I sold—my porter, Sewell, came in before Williams left.

JOHN SEWELL . I am porter to Mr. Barnes—I came in and saw Williams in the shop about 8.30—the prisoner was then on the other side of the street—Mr. Strickland was testing coin when I went in—Williams left shortly afterwards—I followed him, and the prisoner walked on the opposite side, in the same direction, and when they got to Layton Road, Williams crossed and joined the prisoner, and they went on to Leverton Road together—I went to the station, got a constable, and gave Williams in custody—I then went with the constable, found the prisoner in Kentish Town Road, and gave him in custody—the constable caught him by the right arm, and with his left hand he put something into his mouth which nearly choked him—I seized him—we had a struggle, and I got him to the station with assistance—some capsules were taken from him in a box.

Prisoner. Q. When two of you pounced upon me, what was I doing? A. Standing against a wall, looking at a piece of paper—the policeman did not tell me to say that you swallowed something, I saw you do it.

JAMES HARTNELL (Policeman Y 428). In consequence of information from Sewell, I went with him and a constable in search of the prisoner—Sewell pointed out Williams at the corner of Leverton Street—I took him in custody and charged him with uttering counterfeit coin at Mr. Barnes', the chemist—he said he was not the man, and knew nothing about it—I took him to the station, but had some trouble to do so—I found on him two pocket books, a bunch of keys, a pencil, one shilling, two eggs, a six-pence, a 3d. piece, 4 1/2 d., and a tooth brush—I also assisted in taking the prisoner, and had some difficulty—I found on him 4s., 6d. in silver, 6d. in bronze, a pocket-book, and two boxes, one of which was empty, and the other contained a dozen capsules, which were shown to Mr. Strickland, and returned to the prisoner, as he said that he required them.

ELIAS TAYLOR . On the evening of 25th May, I took the prisoner and told him the charge—he said "Get away with you, do"—he strutted, I called for assistance, and two policemen came—I seized his right arm,

and he put his left arm up to his mouth and seemed as if he swallowed something.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This is a fragment of a bad florin.

Prisoner's Defence. I was standing looking at a book, waiting for a female friend, when he seized me. If I had been the man I should not have stood there, but have ran off. I am innocent.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a former conviction of a like offence at this Court, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-509
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment

Related Material

509. WILLIAM LE VON was again indicted with JOHN WILLIAMS , for unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

The evidence off witnesses in the former case was read over to them by THE COURT, to which they assented.

Williams produced a written defence, stating that he received the money in betting at Epsom races, and did not know it was bad, and that he knew nothing of Le Von.


LE VON— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

WILLIAMS— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-510
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

510. ELLEN LANNAGAN (31) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution. JANE OLDSHIP. I am barmaid at the Middleton Arms, Norton Folgate—on 24th May, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, I served the prisoner with 1 1/2 d. worth of gin—she gave me a shilling; I gave her change; she drank her gin, and left—I put the shilling in the till, where there was no other shilling, and only two sixpences—she left, and five minutes afterwards McKinnon came in (see next case,) and I served her with 1d. worth of gin—she gave me a shilling—I tried it, it bent easily—I gave it to the landlord and spoke to him—he told her it was bad—she gave a good shilling and went way—Mr. Daniels then went to the till, and found a bad shilling there—no one else had been in, and no other coin had been put in in the meantime—he gave me the two shillings and I put them away—on the next Monday, Lannagan came again—I recognized her—I served her with 1 1/2 d. worth of gin, and she gave me a shilling—I tried it, found it was bad, told her so, and showed her the two bad shillings—she denied it being bad, and denied giving the others—I called Pike, the potman, who detained her, and I sent for a constable and gave her in charge with the three shillings.

MOSES DANIELS . I keep the Milton Arras—on 24th May, between 5 and 6 o'clock, Lannagan came in; the prisoner came in after—I saw Oldship serve her, and she brought me a shilling—the barmaid bent it, and gave it to McKinnon—I gave her change for the good shilling, and gave her the bad one back—I then went to the till, and found two shillings, a good one. and a bad one—I gave the bad one to the barmaid, with another bad one from my purse, which I had taken that night—on 29th May, I saw Lannagan in the bar—I recognized her—Oldship charged her with passing a bad shilling, and I followed behind to the station—on the road, I saw McKinnon, 150 yards from ray house—I pointed her out to the constable, and charged her with being an accomplice of Lannagan—I had seen her in my house on the Wednesday.

SIDNEY PIKE . I was potman to Mr. Daniels—I have seen the prisoner and McKinnon together, often—I saw them pass together on 24th May,

between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening—I then saw Lannagan come out of my master's house, McKinnon having gone past—on the Monday following, I was in the bar, when Lannagan came in—I recognized her, and detained her till my master gave her in custody.

MAURICE O'CONNELL (Policeman G 119). I was called to Mr. Daniels' on 19th May, and the barmaid charged Lannagan with uttering a bad shilling—she said she had not done so—the barmaid said "Yes," and produced another shilling, which she said she had passed there before.

JAMES DUNHAM (Policeman G 26). I was sent for to take Lannagan to the station—Mr. Daniels pointed out McKinnon to me at the corner of the street—I took her, and told her she was charged with being concerned with Lannagan—she said she knew nothing of her—a gentleman came up, and said "Look here, what they are dropping"—I said "Who—he said "The prisoner you have hold of," and he handed me two bad shillings—McKinnon said she knew nothing about them—I produced seven bad shillings found on her by the female searcher—I got twelve altogether.

MARGARET BROWN . I am employed at the Old Street station to search females—I searched Lannagan, and found a penny and a pair of scissors, and on McKinnon, seven shillings and a duplicate—I handed them to the Inspector.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These three shillings are bad; these two shillings are also bad; these seven shillings are all bad, and from the same mould—one of the two is from the same mould as the seven.

Prisoner's Defence. Why did not she detain me when I went the second time?


She was further charged with having been convicted in 1867, of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, and sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude, to which she PLEADED GUILTY.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-511
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment

Related Material

511. ELLEN LANNAGAN (31), was again indicted, with FRANCES MCKINNON (35) , for unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it.

THE COURT read over the evidence of the witnesses in the last case, to which they assented.

McKinnon's Defence. I heard that a woman was taken for bad money, and having taken some bad money the week before for some old clothes, I thought it might be the woman, but it was not As I returned, I picked up a piece of rag containing two white coins, and seven black ones.

LANNAGAN— GUILTY **— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

MCKINNON— GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-512
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

512. RICHARD LEE (19) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. CRAUFDRD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.

PAMELA COOK, JUN . My mother keeps the Red Bull, High Street, Peckham—on 19th May, at 8 o'clock in the morning, I served the prisoner with a half-pint of beer and 1d. worth of tobacco—I knew him; he gave me a florin—I put it in the till where there was no other florin, gave him his change, and he left—my mother took the florin out of the till, and found it was bad; no other florin had been put in—on 26th May, at the same time in the morning, the prisoner came again—I knew him; he asked for the same things, and gave me a shilling—I left the bar and showed it to my mother, came back and told the prisoner I had lent for some coppers—

he said "Be quick; I'm in a hurry"—he went away without the change, taking the tobacco—the shilling was bad, I gare it to my mother.

Prisoner. Q. How do you know I gave you the florin? A. I know you by your countenance—I described you to the constable.

PAMELA COOK . I am a widow, and mother of the last witness—on 19th May, at 8 o'clock in the morning, I remember the prisoner coming—I afterwards went to the till and found a bad florin; I put it away, and afterwards gave it to the constable—on the following Friday my daughter showed me a bad shilling in my bed room—I gave her directions; she afterwards handed it to me again, and I gave it to the policeman.

THOMAS BURNETT . I was pot boy to Mrs. Cook—on 19th May, in the morning, I saw Miss Cook serve the prisoner—what she has said is right.

JOHN BALDERSON (Policeman P 15), I was sent for by Mrs. Cook, and received a florin and a shilling—the prisoner had then gone—Miss Cook described him, and I found him at Bow Street, locked up for another offence—I recognized him from the description.

OWEN YOUNGMAN . I am a tobacconist, at 29, Villiers Street, Strand—on 27th May, about 11.30, I served the prisoner with a 1/2 on of shag, which came to 1 1/2 d.—he handed me a florin—I thought it was bad, but gave him the change—he ran out as hard as he could—I tested the coin, and followed him—he dodged me up several courts, running as fast as he could, and came into Villiers Street again—I caught him in the Strand, and gave him in custody—my tobacco was found on him—I gave the florin to the constable.

GEORGE FLETCHER (Policeman E R 41). Youngman pointed out the prisoner running by Charing Cross, and gave me this florin—I took him, and told him the charge—he made no answer—I found on him, 1s., 1 1/2 d., the change for the florin, and nothing else.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two florins and this shilling are bad.

The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was not in Mr. Cook's house on the morning the coin was passed, being at Epsom at the time, as could be proved by a witness, George Sorby, who, however, did not appear; and that he did not know that the florin uttered to Mr. Youngman was bad.

GUILTY He was further charged with a conviction of burglary, at Newington, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-513
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

513. KATE BURNETT (22), was indicted for a like offence. MR. CRAUFURD conducted the Prosecution.

ROBERT HUGH NEWMAN . I am fourteen years old, and serve in Mr. Cox's provision shop, 58, Red Lion Street, Holborn—on 22nd June, about 4.30, I served the prisoner with a 1/2lb. of beef, which came to 4 1/2 d.—she gave me a bad shilling—I tried it, and called my master—he asked her if she had got any more like it—she said "No," and she knew where she got it from, and walked out of the shop—we let her have it back, as a lady and gentleman were in the shop—I followed her into the Wheatsheaf public-house—she was drunk.

JOHN COX . Newman drew my attention to the shilling, and I bent it and returned it to her, and told him to follow her—I afterwards went to the Wheatsheaf—the barman told me something, and I went after the prisoner—took her back to the Wheatsheaf, and she was given in custody.

ELIZABETH ANN JAMES . I am barmaid at the Wheatsheaf—on 22nd June, about 4.30, I served the prisoner with a quartern of gin, which came

to 5d., she gave me a shilling it was rather dark and I did not notice it; I put it in the till and gave her 7d. change—there were other shillings there—three women were with her—she afterwards called for 3d. worth of brandy, and gave me another shilling, I tried it and found it was bad—she said she knew where she took it, and would go back with it—I then noticed the first one she gave me—I knew it because it was a George III.—I told her it was bad; she said she would take it back to the next public-house, where she had it—I gave her back the second shilling and she ran off, leaving the brandy—she was brought back by Mr. Cox shortly afterwards, and I gave her in custody with the other shilling—she was quite intoxicated, but I let her have the gin and brandy because it was not for herself—she did not appear deaf.

FREDERICK CRANE . I keep the Red Lion—on 22nd June, about 4.15, the prisoner came in with three women, and a man, I think—she called for a pot of porter, took a shilling out of her bosom and threw it over the bar, it rolled on the floor and I was unable to see it—I knew that it was a shilling, and gave her the change—she then called for a half-quartern of gin to treat two of her friends, and put a shilling on the counter—I told her it was bad, she said she knew where she got it, and I gave her back the pieces as she appeared poor, and I did not like to be hard upon her—after she left I found the first shilling on the floor, it was bad, and I handed it to the constable—she was semi-intoxicated.

Prisoner. I do not recollect being near your house—I was very drunk.

JOHN CONNOR (Policeman E 56). Mr. Cox gave the prisoner into my custody—I told her the charge—she denied all knowledge of it—she was the worse for drink—I received this shilling from Crane, and the other from James—nothing was found on her—I went where she washed, and found that she had borne an excellent character till ten days before, when she absented herself without cause.

WILLIAM J. WEBSTER . These two shillings are bad.

Prisoners Defence. I daresay the policeman has got my character from my master. I did not know the money was bad.


OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 11th, 1871.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-514
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

514. JOHN DALEY (32), was indicted for unlawfully conspiring with a person unknown, to steal 1l., of Thomas Harold.

MR. N. R PHILIPPS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS

the Defence.

THOMAS HAROLD . I am a sailor—I am now living at the Home—I live at Yarmouth—on a Wednesday morning in June, I was in London—I met the prisoner; I don't know whereabouts it was—I was inquiring about the Yarmouth boat—he pulled out a lot of bills—I don't know what they were, I can't read—he took me to a coffee-shop kept by Mr. Steele—I left my clothes there and went with the prisoner to a public-house—I ordered two glasses of ale—there was another man in there, drinking—the prisoner gave him some of the ale—we then went to another public-house and had three glasses of brandy—I had 1l. 0s., 8d. in my pocket at that time—the other man said to the prisoner "We will try his conscience, if he will give me a sovereign I will give you two"—he went outside, crossed the road, and came back again, and gave the prisoner two pieces of money—the prisoner

said "I don't want your money"—after a little time I asked the other man if he was not going to stand something—he said "Yes, if you will give me change for a sovereign"—he gave me this piece of money (produced,) and I gave him 20s., in silver for it—he said "Don't you go sporting along with the girls with that"—the prisoner told me to go on to Steele's, and he Would go and get the other man's box—he said he was going to Yarmouth with me—they then left—I went trample stall to get some apples, and the woman asked me where I got this com, and told me to show it to a policeman—I did so, and we looked about for the men for half an hour—the policeman then told me to go and put on some other clothes, and go about to the public-houses to see if I could find them—I did so, and went out at night, and found the prisoner standing against a public-house, and gave him in charge—I gave the coin to the policeman—I have not seen the other man since.

Cross-examined. The other man said "Change me a sovereign, and I will stand what you like"—the prisoner saw him give it me—I don't know how far from the public-house it was that I afterwards found the prisoner; it was not far—he was standing in the street.

ROBERT KENWARD (Policeman H 171). On 7th June, about 7.30, the lad came to me and gave me this coin; it is what is termed a However, it is not gold—he told me where it was the man had given it to him—I went with him to the public-house, and found the prisoner standing there—the prosecutor said he was the man, and charged him with being concerned with the other man in stealing his money—the prisoner said he knew nothing about it, and he repeated the same at the station—I searched him, and found 10d. on him.

Cross-examined. The public-house, outside which I took him, was the Crooked Billet; that was the house where the boy represented the money was given him.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-515
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

Related Material

515. MATTHEW PILLIVANT (40) , Unlawfully and indecently assaulting Margaret Morris, with intent to ravish.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the


GUILTY of an indecent assault. Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-516
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

516. RICHARD COLLINS (41) , Stealing a handkerchief of Frederick Aldridge Clark, from his person.

MR. WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution.

FREDERICK ALDRIDGE CLARK . I am a lead merchant, at Hammersmith—on Saturday afternoon, 17th June, about 3.30, I was passing through Gracechurch Street—I felt a slight tug at my coat pocket, and immediately missed my handkerchief—I looked round suddenly, and saw the prisoner enter a hosier's shop, and out of the corner of his hand I saw a portion of. my handkerchief—I followed him into the shop, and charged him with stealing it—I observed a movement of his arm, and on looking back, saw my handkerchief lying in the corner of the shop—I called a policeman, and gave him into custody—he went on his knees, and implored my forgiveness.

JOHN REEDHAM (City Policeman 746). I was called, and took the prisoner into custody—I found the handkerchief lying behind the counter—he gave me his correct address.

Prisoner. Q. Did not I make a voluntary statement at the station, to the effect that I was on ticket of leave? A. Yes.

Prisoner's Defence. The handkerchief laid on the doorway, and I picked it up. The prosecutor does not swear he found my hand in his pocket. I believe I any indicted for a robbery in Cornhill, whereas it should have been in Gracechurch Street.


He further PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at this Court, in September, 1865, when he was sentenced to seven years' penal servitude; ten convictions being then proved against him .—Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-517
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

517. HERMAN DE LEEUW (18) , Unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, a portmanteau and other articles, of George Rolf.

MR. METCALFE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS

the Defence.

GEORGE ROLF (Interpreted.) I belong to Mayence—I came to London in June, by the steamer Batavia—I had never been here before—I had with me a portmanteau, containing my clothes—on arriving at the station in Fenchurch Street, I received a card from a private hotel-keeper—I went to a cafe for some refreshment, and asked the waiter to explain the card to me—the prisoner was there, and the waiter, not being able to speak German, addressed him—he spoke my language—he said that I should do better than that; that he was well acquainted with the locality, and he would go with me, and take a room—we went to a restaurant, at 77, High Street, Aldgate—the landlord had a room to let, at 4s., 6d.—the prisoner said he thought he could get one for 3s., 6d.—at his suggestion, I left my things with the landlord, and told the prisoner to say that if we did not find a cheaper lodging we would return there—we then left, and were riding about in an omnibus for about twenty minutes—we went to another coffee-house—the prisoner told me to wait there, while he went to a commissionaire, with whom he would speak, and procure a place for me—he came back in five minutes, and said he had missed his way, and begged me to wait another five or ten minutes, and he would then return—after waiting another five minutes, I began to be suspicious, and I left there, and went out to try and find the place where I had left my portmanteau—it took me an hour and a half to find the railway station where I had landed, and from there to find the coffee-shop, and then I found that the prisoner had been, and fetched my portmanteau away; it was not there—I have since seen it at the police-station—when I left it, it contained two pairs of trowsers, two shirts, four pairs of socks, and several small articles, a packet of letters and papers, and a 10-thaler note, a 5-thaler note, and five 1-thaler notes, and a neck-tie—this is the tie (produced)—the notes have not been found—this blue shirt is not mine, that was found afterwards in the portmanteau—this grey coat is mine, that was outside the portmanteau.

Cross-examined. I did not agree to take a lodging with the prisoner—he told me he would go to the bazaar for servants, and try to get me a place—the portmanteau was locked when I left it—I saw it afterwards at the station—before that, I saw it at the prisoner's lodging—I do not know the name of the street—he had not taken a lodging for me there—I do not understand English at all—the portmanteau was broken open when I found it; one of the pegs or nails, near the lock, was taken out, but the lock was still locked.

CHARLES BURRDOCH . I am a waiter at the coffee-house, at 77, High Street, Aldgate—some days before I went to the Police Court, the prisoner and prosecutor came together about 11 o'clock in the morning, and asked

me for a cheap lodging—I called my master—he showed them a bed-room—I took the portmanteau up after them—it was left there while they went in search of another lodging, as ours was too dear—I took charge of it, and also of this coat—about two hours afterwards the prisoner returned alone—he asked for the things, and I gave them up to him—I did not know which they belonged to—I knew nothing of either of them previously—I believed he had authority to receive them—he took away both the portmanteau and the coat.

WILLIAM OSBORNE (City Policeman.) On Saturday, 17th June, from a description I received of the prisoner, I went into Aldgate, and about 10.15, I saw him go into Carlo Collie's, No. 13—I went and told him that I was a police officer—he replied in a foreign language—there was a young man there who could speak German, and I asked him to interpret to the prisoner that I was a police officer, and should take him into custody for stealing a portmanteau—I took him to the station—he there gave his address at 2, Suffolk Street, Mile End Road—I searched him, and found in his pocket this tie, which the prosecutor has since identified, a memoran—dum book, and several small things—I afterwards went to 2, Suffolk Street; the memorandum book contained the same address; and in the front parlour there, under the bed, I found this portmanteau, with one of the pins out—I took it to the station, and in it found this blue shirt, which the prisoner afterwards said was his—some few of the prosecutor's things remained in the portmanteau, but most of them were gone, and the taller notes, his passport, and other papers.

Cross-examined. The prisoner spoke in English at the Mansion House.

CORNELIUS JOHANN KRUOIERS . I live at 2, Suffolk Street, Mile End—the prisoner lived there on Wednesday, 14th June—he came to me, and said he had a friend with him, and he wanted to know if I had another room to spare—he had this portmanteau with him—it was locked—it was put in my parlour—the prosecutor afterwards came with the policeman, and opened it—I did not see it open before that—I saw no thaler notes, or socks.

Cross-examined. The prisoner asked me if he might leave the port—manteau till he found a lodging for his friend—he gave it to me to take care of—I put it under my bed as there was no other place to put it—when the prisoner went away the portmanteau was locked and safe so far as I know, I saw nothing broken—when the prosecutor came and opened it he did not complain of being robbed.

Re-examined. The portmanteau was there three days before the police came.

WILLIAM OSBORNE (re-examined.) I saw the portmanteau opened by the prosecutor with a key—but when he unlocked it, it fell to pieces—the latch of the lock held it—he complained of things being missed.

GUILTY Six Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-518
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

518. ELIZABETH LENNY (27) , Unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child.

MR. LATIMER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-519
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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519. JOHN CHAMBERLAIN (19) , Robbery and violence, with another, on Thomas Stocker, and stealing 1l. 9s., his property.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS STOCKER . I am a coach painter, and live at 12, Portpool Lane

—on Sunday morning, 4th July, about 1.30, I was on Clerkenwell Green—I was suddenly attacked by two men, and was held back with their hands over my mouth—I fell on the ground—they rifled my pockets of a sovereign, a five shilling piece, 8s., 6d., and some halfpence, a tobacco-box, and a leather pouch—I caught a glimpse of the prisoner, the other man I did not see—I went round towards St. James' Walk and met a constable—I could not speak to him at the time, I could not fetch my breath then; I told him I had been robbed—I stayed in Sutton Street and he went up the Broadway—I had been drinking, but I knew what I was about.

CHARLES SPILLER (Policeman G 169). On Sunday morning, 4th July, about 1.30, I was in St. James' Walk, and saw two men running from Clerkenwell Green—the prisoner was one of them—I knew him before by sight and by name—the prosecutor came up, gasping for breath—he said he had been robbed—I told him to follow me, and pursued the prisoner—I caught him at the corner of Woodbridge Street, and said to him "Chamberlain, I want you"—he said "What for?"—I said "For robbing a person"—the prosecutor then came up and identified him—I searched him at the station and found on him a sovereign, 3s., 6d., and a knife.

GUILTY Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-520
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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520. WALTER CARPENTER (20) , Embezzling the sums of 1l., 1l. 3s., 4d., and 31., received on account of John Hopcraft and another, his masters.

MR. HOOKING conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HORACE BROWN the


CHARLES WILLIAM SMITH . I am a wholesale tea dealer, in partnership with Mr. Hopcraft, of 40, King William Street—we carry on business as the Metropolitan Tea Company—the prisoner was a carman in our employ—he was in the employ before I became a partner, which is about twelve months since—his duty was to deliver goods, take orders, and take money on delivering the goods—the goods he had to deliver were always entered in a small delivery-book, and he had a list given him of the moneys he had to collect—it was his duty to account for the moneys he collected on his return, either the same evening, or if it was late, the next morning—he invariably accounted to me—I produced the book in which I took down the accounts—on 1st May there does appear to be a sum entered of 1l., from H. Turner—there is no entry on 21st May of 1l. 3s., 4d. from F. Chapman—I have never received that, nor 3l. on the 22nd May from McLaren.

Cross-examined. I asked him to explain his deficiencies on 15th June—I think he said he had a quantity of goods in the stable which would make up for them—I did not receive a guarantee from him to make up the loss—his father handed us a guarantee, which we took on the supposition that the goods in the stable would cover the whole of his defalcations, but they did not—instead of being 35l. short it was nearer 100l., and they were our goods—I did not know the guarantee that it was to cover any deficiency—I did not intend to compound a felony—a signed security was brought up to me by the father, which we did not accept—we did not mean to accept any guarantee—I did not make inquiries to see whether the guarantee was worth the money, nor did anyone authorized by me—it was a guarantee of his aunt—I did not know until the other day that any inquiries were made about it—I know it now—it was not done by my sanction—I don't know by whom it was done.

Re-examined. The goods in the stable were our goods, obtained by fictitious orders.

JOHN HOPCRAFT , I am in partnership with the last witness—on 15th June I spoke to the prisoner about a deficiency in his accounts, and asked him the reason—he said he had a large quantity of goods, which would be found in the stable—I said "Then we will send for them," to give him a chance—we sent over to the stable, and found about 50l. worth of tea, and sugar, all covered over with straw—there were two cart loads—I said it was a very serious charge, and there were a lot of accounts outstanding, that ought not to be—he said "You will find the goods completely cover the outstanding accounts"—he was not authorized to take the goods to the stable—I said to him "We will send for your father, and as we have found our goods in the stable, it may be a much lighter matter than we suppose"—we sent for the father—the prisoner said "I lost 7l. out of my pocket some months ago, and I have tried to make up the deficiency by getting orders"—I said "You had better go away with your father;" but before that the father gave a guarantee that if there was any little deficiency the amount should be made up by him—I made Inquiries next day, and on 20th June I told the prisoner I had found he had been taking money from every customer, and not handing it over to the firm, and I should give him in charge—my partner sent for a constable, and gave him in charge—at the time I accepted the guarantee from the father, I had not discovered that the sums of 1l. from Henry Turner, 1l. 3s., 4d. from Chapman, and 3l. from McLaren, had not been paid.

Cross-examined. It was on 15th June I accepted the guarantee; the day I first discovered the goods—I had not then any suspicion that there were other deficiencies—I afterwards found they exceeded 50l.—(The guarantee being put in, was a guarantee to pay any deficiency arising in the account.)

FANNY CHAPMAN . I live at 66, Myddelton Street, Clerkenwell—I know the prisoner—on 21st May I paid him 1l. 3s., 4d. on account of the Metropolitan Tea Company, for which he gave me this receipt (produced.)

WILLIAM MCLORNS . I keep the Sun public-house, Clapham—on 22nd May last I paid the prisoner 3l. on account of the Metropolitan Tea Company—I produce the receipt which he gave to my wife—I think I paid him the money, and would not swear whether I paid him myself, or my wife.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-521
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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521. WALTER CARPENTER was again indicted for embezzling two sums of 1l. each, of his said masters.

CHARLES WILLIAM SMITH . At the time I accepted the guarantee from the prisoner's father, I did not know that John White, a customer of ours, had on 31st May paid the prisoner 1l. on our account, or 1l. on 27th May—he never accounted for those sums to me.

JOHN HOPCRAFT . At the time I accepted the guarantee, I did not know that the prisoner had been paid those two sums.

Cross-examined. I did not know of any defalcation at the time; 17s., was all I knew of—we took the guarantee with the idea that the father would pay that.

JOHN WHITE . I am a beer retailer, at Spa Road, Bermondsey—I deal with the Metropolitan Tea Company—on 27th May I paid the prisoner 1l., and on 31st, another sum of 1l. on their account, for which he gave me these receipts.

NOT GUILTY .—There was another indictment against the pritotter, on which no evidence was offered.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-522
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown

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522. EDWARD CROSS (31), and GEORGE GRIFFIN (26) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the delivery of goods, with intent to defraud. MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.

SARAH LACK . I keep a stationer's shop, at 24, Castle Street—on 26th June, about 12 o'clock in the day, the prisoners came into my shop—Griffin produced this order, and said he came from Mr. Bryant—I said "This is not Mr. Bryant's writing"—he said "No, it is his clerk's"—knowing Mr. Bryant, I ordered the two bundles of straw board to be given him, worth about 11s., a bundle—Cross did not speak.

ALONZO HBARN . I am in Miss Lack's service—I received the order from her, and gave the two bundles of straw board to the prisoners—each had a bundle.

RICHARD KENWOOD (Detective Officer G.) On the morning of 27th June, I met Cross, in company with the last witness—I told him I wanted to speak to him respecting his getting some paper yesterday—he said "Yes, it is quite right; I did go in, and help to get two bundles, and took them out, and put them on a barrow: they were taken away by Griffin: where he took them to I don't know"—he afterwards said "I do know where they were taken to; I will take you to the house, and show you"—he took me to 17, Barnett Street, where I found the two bundles—on the 4th July I apprehended Griffin—I told him it was for being concerned with another man in obtaining some paper from 26, Castle Street—he said "Yes, I went in, and got the paper; I had been drinking at the time, or I should not have gone.

HENRY ROWE . I am a leather-dealer, at 17, Barnett Street, Hackney Road—on 26th June, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, Cross and another man came with a barrow, with two bundles of boarding on it—they asked if I wanted to buy—I said "No"—they were strangers to me—they said they had been round to Mr. Ayling, a box manufacturer, that I do business with occasionally, and had offered it to him for 8s., and he sent them to me—I gave them 10s., for the two bundles, and this (produced) is the receipt I got for it—I afterwards gave the two bundles up to the police—I could not exactly say that Griffin was one of them, he was so altered, but I have no doubt of him now, though I won't swear to him.

Cross. Q. Was it me that came in, and asked you to buy the bundles? A. Yes, you came in along with the other: you both spoke; you were the most prominent in the affair—the boards were not on the counter before you came in—you both brought them in—you did not give me the receipt—I don't know who took the money up.

ALFRED BLAYLEY . I am the only clerk in the service of George Bryant, of Vine Street, box-maker—I did not send the prisoner to Miss Lack with that order—it did not come from our office, or with any authority of myself, or Mr. Bryant.

Cross's Defence. I met this young man in the morning; he told me he had an order from Mr. Bryant for some boards;. he said he had been in the habit of working for a Mr. Bryant, but not this Mr. Bryant; he said: "He is in a hurry, and I lent him a hand to put the things on the barrow; it is not likely if I had known there was anything wrong I should have gone to Miss Lack's, where they knew me, as I worked next door."

SARAH LACK (re-examined.) I don't know Cross—I knew Griffin—I did not know where be lived—I only knew him by coming into the warehouse occasionally some time before.

A. HEARN (re-examined.) I knew Cross by sight, working at box making—I did not know that he worked next door—I did not know where to find him, but Mr. Bryant took me round to where his wife was.

Griffin's Defence. I bad this order put into my hand, and I took it in for this other party. I was drunk at the time. I know nothing about it I have lost a good job of work by it.


GRIFFIN— GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July, 11th 1871.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-523
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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523. JOHN BRYAN (51) , unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.

MART ANN LEA . I am a widow, and keep a general shop, in Greyhound Court, Strand—on 7th June, I served the prisoner with 1/2 an oz. of tea, which came to 1 1/2 d—I am sure he is the man—he gave me a florin—I gave him the change the less—next morning I tried the florin and it broke in three pieces—I put them into the fire and saw them melt—I know it was the florin he gave me, because I had no other, only shillings and sixpences, as he gave it me after 10 at night—on the next Friday night he came again for 1/2 an oz. of tobacco, which came to 1 1/2 d.—I saw a florin in big right hand—I said then I had not got any; because I did not want to take any more of his money—on Saturday, the 10th June, he came again in the middle of the day for 1/2 an oz. of tea, which came to 1 3/4 d.—he tendered a florin again, it was shiny and black like the other—I told him I had no change and gave it back to him, and he left without the tea—he came again at 11.30 that night for lib. of bread, and offered me a florin again—it was like the other, and I took it to be the other, and I refused to take it—he left, and I spoke to a constable, and pointed him out after he had been to a butcher's.

Prisoner. I deny being in the shop; if I had been, it is very strange that she did not tell me so.

THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Detective Officer E.) On 10th June, Mrs. Lee pointed out the prisoner to me—I followed him to Mr. Attwell's, a butcher, of 264, Strand, and waited till he came out—I then went in, spoke to Mr. Attwell, and then went to the prisoner, who was 40 or 50 yards from the shop said "Where is the 2s., piece you offered to the butcher?"—he put himself into a shuffling motion—I took hold of his right hand and found a florin there—I said "Is this what you offered the butcher?"—he said "Yes" I said "I am a police-constable; I shall take you"—I took him to the shop, and Mr. Attwell said "That is the man"—the prisoner made no reply—I found on him two 4d. pieces, 5d. in copper, and some meat—the florin is bad.

ALFRED ATTWELL did not appear.

THOMAS PARTRIDGE (re-examined.) Mr. Attwell said, in the prisoner's hearing, "I told him it would not do for me, and then he took out a 4d. piece and paid for the meat"—Mr. Attwell went to the station, and charged him with uttering the florin—he made no reply.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This florin is bad—the pieces of a florin melting when thrown into a fire, shows conclusively that they were bad; but a common tire would melt a good one if it was in long enough.

Prisoner's Defence. This florin was given to me for wheeling a truck.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-524
VerdictMiscellaneous > unknown

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524. In the cote of EMANUEL BRADBURY , committed for trial for feloniously sending a letter to John Henry McKewie threatening to kill him, MR. MOODY, for the prosecution, requested that the witnesses might be excused from going before the Grand Jury, as the prosecutor did not believe that the prisoner intended the threat, THE COURT assented to the withdrawal of the charge.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-525
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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525. WILLIAM WILLIAMS (27), and EDWARD WELSH (29) , Robbery on Henry Flint, and stealing from his person two rings and a gold coin, his property.

MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MOODY defended Welsh.

HENRY FLINT . I am an engineer, of 122, Drury Lane—on 26th June I had been to Margate, and arrived at Charing Cross Station about 11.15 At night—I was proceeding towards Drury Lane, and when near George's Court, which leads to the Adelphi, I made way for two ladies, and the prisoner Welsh rushed at me, and laid hold of my watch-chain and the strap of a sea-side glass, which I had under my coat—I had a stick, having been lame since I was three years old—I had a guinea on my chain with two split gold rings—Welsh shook me very much indeed, and I held him—he got on my left side and struck me on my left cheek, near the temple, with his right hand, and knocked me against the wall, making a wrench with his left with my guinea—the chain broke in my pocket, through having the strap, and the guinea slipped into his hand, leaving my watch in my pocket—I let go of him when he struck me, and he me down the steps towards the Adelphi—I was about to follow him when Williams laid hold of me and enquired if I had been robbed, and said "Have you lost anything?'—I thought my watch was gone, and said "I have lost my watch—I followed him towards the steps, in search of a policeman—a policeman came up, and I gave Williams in charge for stopping me in my progress, he did not attempt to run away—I described Welsh when the charge was taken, but he was in custody at that time—on 26th, two days after, I saw six or seven men in a room at the police station—I put my hand on Welsh, and told him he was my man; I recognized him directly—my head was bad, and I suffer from it very much.

Cross-examined, Welsh was not taken till 29th June—it may have been Thursday—I went to Bow Street—J described the man who assaulted me to Detective Hines on the Tuesday of the remand—I was able to go to the Police Court the following day, as I live close to it—George's Court is two or three doors from Courts' Bank—almost all the shops in the Strand were closed—the persons who attacked me were standing partly in and partly out of George's Court—I received a shock to my system—Welsh had a white apron on at the station—I cannot swear whether the others had white aprons—I described him as having short whiskers, curly hair, a small moustache, and a billycock hat.

Re-examined. I swear to him by his features, not by his apron—I had hold of him.

JAMES STRAHAN . I am a sign-writer, of 5, Adam's Place, High Street, Borough—on 26th June, at 11.15 at night, I was crossing the Strand, near Charing Cross Station—I saw Flint and a man struggling—Flint said "You thief!"—I did not know the man at Bow Street—he got away, and another man went up; that was Williams—they were all three together, at the top of the court, struggling—Williams pushed the prosecutor, and

turned his back against him, so as to stop him from going in the direction the other man had gone—I went after Williams—he stopped at the corner of Buckingham Street, and said "Oh, he is gone"—I said "You know all about this"—he said I was mistaken; I said I was not—I accused Williams of stopping the gentleman from running after the other man—Flint came up, and I said "Is not this the man who stopped you?"—he said "Yes," and gave him in charge.

Williams, Q. Did I try to get away? A. No—there was not a soul in the court till after you ran down, moving your feet on the top of the steps.

THOMAS PELLATT (Policeman E 389). I saw Williams and the prosecutor on 26th June, between 11 and 12 o'clock, in a crowd, near George's Court—Flint said "I have been robbed of part of my watch chain"—I turned to take hold of the man, and this man (Williams) came up, and stopped me—he gave him in custody—going to the station, he said "I went down to the court to make water, and as soon as I got into it, I heard someone running down; I looked round, and they passed me"—he also said he had just come out of a public-house.

Williams. Q. Did the prosecutor hesitate before he gave me in charge?" A. No.

PHILIP HINES (Detective Officer E.) I received information from the Magistrate on Wednesday the prosecutor described a man, and about 1.30 on the afternoon of 29th June, I saw Welsh with a woman in Blackfriars Road; he answered the description, and I told Sutherland, who was with me, to stop him—he did so, and I said "I am a police officer, I shall take you in custody on suspicion of being concerned with another man named William Williams, now in custody, for assaulting a man in the Strand, on Tuesday night"—he said "You have made a mistake in me"—I said "If I have, I shall take you to Bow Street Station," and handed him over to Sutherland—he said at the station "You say Tuesday night" I said "Yes—"I can prove where I was from 9 till 11"—I then found I had made a mistake in the date, and said it was Monday night instead of Tuesday—he made no reply to that—he was then placed with six other men about his own stature, and was asked whether he was satisfied with the class of persons who he was placed between—he said that he was—the prosecutor was then brought in from the inspector's room, and was desired to see if there was any one there who he could recognize—he immediately picked out Welsh, and said that he was the man who was with the other one when he was robbed—the prisoner was told the charge, and the other men left—he then said "I have not had a fair chance, for Sutherland pointed me out"—the six men were then brought back, and their names and addresses taken—Welsh then said "I am sorry for what I have said"—no policeman was near the prosecutor when he pointed Welsh out.

Cross-examined. I was in the room the whole time, and Sutherland also—it was half an hour before the identification that I took Welsh up Bow Street—when I took Welsh he was wearing a white apron doubled up under his coat—I cannot say that he was the only one among the five or six who had a white apron on, or that he was not—when I took him in the Blackfriars Road that was the first time I had seen him that day—I had not followed him some distance—he was going towards the Obelisk and we had come out of the London Road—I had been with Sutherland about two hours—I do not know that Welsh had come from the House of Detention

that morning—we had looked in at several public-houses in the search for him.

COURT. Q. From the description given to you, you had made up your mind who you were to look after? A. Yes—I was looking for this individual person.

RODERICK SUTHERLAND (Detective Officer.) I was with Hines, and took Welsh—I had received a description of him, and when I took him I knew him—the prosecutor had no difficulty in picking him out, he went straight to him—I did not by word or gesture intimate to him who he was to pick out.

Cross-examined. We met him ten or twenty yards from the place where we took him—we had not been out that morning before we left the station at 12 o'clock—I had not been to the House of Detention that morning, or the afternoon before, or since I had received the information—I did not go to the gate-keeper, and make inquiries—I did not see him speak to a butcher, or go into any public-house—we took him three-quarters of an hour, or an hour, after leaving Bow Street—I heard him accuse me of having indicated him—he was the only one with a white apron on, but it was covered by his coat.

Williams' Defence. I had just come out of a public-house, and went down a court; there was a cry of "Stop thief!" and I was given in custody.

WILLIAMS— GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

WELSH— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before con-victed, at Newington, in July, 1864, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, July 11th, 1871.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-526
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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526. MARIA SMITH (25) , Feloniously wounding Joseph Reeves, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.

JOSEPH REEVES . I am a looking-glass frame maker, of 37, Britannia Street, Hoxton—I have lived with the prisoner about fifteen months—we represented ourselves as man and wife—I went to Tottenham with her on Whit-Monday, and we there met a young man named Archer—we all had some drink together, and left Tottenham about 7.30 in the evening—we had been drinking all day at intervals—we were delayed by the train and did not arrive in London till 9—I then went with Archer and the prisoner to the London Apprentice public-house, in Old Street, St. Luke's—we left there about 10—when we got to Pitfield Street, I told Archer I did not want to see him home—I could see myself home—he said he should not like to leave our company—I said I had had enough of him, and if he wanted to please me he would bid us "Good night!"—he did so—I was giving it to the prisoner about making so free with the young man in my company—she said she had not done so—I hit her across the back with a stick—I might have hit her twice or more—I have brought the stick to show—she was not in liquor—she had had a little drop, but nothing to speak of—when I hit her she halloaed out "Police! murder!" and a mob gathered round, and Archer came back—he asked me why I did not go home and let the woman be—I told him to mind his own business, I said I had had enough of him, and he was the cause of the row, making so free with her—

he said I was to go home and not to hit her, and he said to the prisoner "If he hits you any more, you stab the b——,"and with that he went alongside but whether he gave her the knife then, I could not see—I went towards' her, and told her to go home, and then she struck me in the belly—I did not know the knife had gone into me at first—I said afterwards "Why you have stabbed me, what have you done it with?"—I felt for my knife and it was in my pocket—she said she had not stabbed me—the police came up then, and I was taken to the doctor's shop, the prisoner followed—I accused her of stabbing me, and she said she had done so, and she had given the young man the knife back again—I asked her what young man, and she said the young man who had been in her company all day—I was taken to the station, and then to the hospital—I was there a fortnight and three days—the constable showed me the knife in the doctor's shop—when I was hitting the prisoner a mob came round, and Archer came up with the mob—I might have hit her two or three times—I gave her a black eye about a month ago—I have given her a black eye more than once in our fights at home.

Prisoner. A bigger brute never lived than he is.

WILLIAM ARCHER . I am a cabinet maker, and live at Church Street, Bethnal Green—I was at the Ferry House, at Tottenham, last Whit Monday, about 3 o'clock—I saw Reeves and the prisoner there—I had never seen them before—I got a pint of half-and-half and went in the grounds where they were sitting—the prisoner asked me to go and get her a pint of ale, and I got it—Reeves was then asleep—he woke about three-quarters of an hour after I had been there—the prisoner said to him "This young man has treated me," and he said "I will treat him;" and we all went to the pext house, kept by Mr. Dabbs—we had three pints of ale there—we arrived in London about 8 o'clock, and went to a public-house in New Inn Yard, and had three pots of half-and-half—we then went to the London Apprentice—while we were there, Reeves asked me for a pocket knife to clean out his pipe—I pulled my knife out, and he said "Never mind, I have got one of my own"—the lady said "That is a nice knife"—I said "I will give it to you," and I gave it to her as it only cost me 4d.—I bid them "Good night" at the corner of Pitfield Street—I crossed over the road, and as I came back I saw them quarrelling—he was hitting her over the head with a stick he had in his hand—he had been hitting her at Tottenham—I took the stick away from him there, but he would not let me have it only a minute or two, and I gave it back to him—when I got to the corner of Pitfield Street I saw the prisoner run at the man—she then shoved the knife into my hand—I closed it, and put it in my pocket—only one blade was open—she said "Here is your knife," and I put it in my pocket—I saw her strike Reeves with it before that—I gave her the knife at the London Apprentice, and not in Pitfield Street—Reeves said "Look what she has done to me, and it is through you."

EBENEZBR MOULDY (Policeman N 182). On Whit Monday night, 29th May, I was in Charles Square, Hoxton—I saw a crowd of people, and went up, and said "What's the matter here?"—the woman said "Nothing the matter"—I said "Why don't you go on?"—I turned round, and saw the blood running down the man—I said "Who did that?"—he said "The woman done it"—I took him into a doctor's shop—the prisoner followed, and I charged her—she said she had not done it at first, but afterwards she said she had done it, and she wished she had done for him—Archer said

that he saw her go like that with the knife towards the man, and the prisoner said she had given Archer the knife back—they had all been drinking—Archer was the most sober of the lot—he gave me the knife in the doctor's shop—the knife was shut then.

PERCY STONEY . I am house-surgeon, at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on Whit-Monday, 29th May, Reeves was brought there—he was suffering from loss of blood, and a small wound in the lower part of the chest—it was such a wound as would be produced by this knife—from the nature of the wound I should say that both blades were open at the time it was inflicted.

Prisoners' statement before the Magistrate: "I never said I wished I had done for him; he was hitting me, all the way from Tottenham, on the head with his stick, and he wanted me to go on the streets to get money for him to spend; and because I would not, the row commenced."

Prisoner's Defence. I had black eyes one after the other from him.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury' on account of the great provocation she had received. Four Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-527
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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527. JOSEPH WILLIAMS (45) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Cox, with intent to steal therein.

MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.

CAROLINE BARLEY . I am a widow, and live at 8, Duke Street—the lease of Mr. Cox's house at 28, Southampton Row is mine—I have tried this key (produced) to the door, and it will unlock it.

JESSE BOUTELL . I live at 17, Duke Street—this key (produced) will open the front door of that house—I have tried it, and I saw the detective try it.

Prisoner. Q. Would it be possible for a person to be seen entering your house at a distance of 100 yards? A. Yes.

THOMAS PICKELS (Detective Officer (7). About 5.15, on the morning of 3rd July, I saw the prisoner in Duke Street, St. James's—I saw him go to No. 17, open the door, go inside, and close the door after him—he was in about a minute, or a minute and a half; when he came out, he crossed over, and went to No. 14, Ryder Street—he took a key from his right hand coat pocket, put it in the lock, and tried to open the door, but he did not open it—he then went to No. 23, Ryder Street, and again took the key from his pocket—he tried to open the door, but did not—he went from there to 15, Bury Street—he tried that door, but did not open it—he then went to 32, St. James' Square, and tried the lock of that door—he went on into Pall Mall and Trafalgar Square, where I stopped him—I asked him what he was doing in Bury Street, Duke Street, and Ryder Street—he said he had not been in Bury Street, or Ryder Street; he had come straight down St. James's Street into the square where I had seen him—I said "I am a police-constable, and I have seen you there, trying several doors; in fact, you opened one"—he said, "You are mistaken"—I said "You have the key now with you"—he said "I have not got a key on me at all"—I said "Yes, you have; you have got it in your right hand coat pocket"—he said "Yes, that is the key of my house in Kingsland"—I took him to the station, and he was put in the dock before the inspector—he then said he lived at North Street, Whitechapel—he was not known there—the inspector asked him what he was doing there? and he said he was going from Paddington to Billingsgate Market—I went to 17, Duke Street, and tried the door with the key, and it fitted.

Prisoner. Where was it you first saw me? A. In Duke Street—you were coming down from the direction of Piccadilly—I was not 100 yards from you when I saw you at 17, Duke Street—when I saw you go into Duke Street I thought you were a lodger, being a stranger to me—that is the reason why I did not apprehend you then—I first called on the gentleman at No. 17, and then I followed you and took you into custody.

JOHN BARNES (Policeman C 163). About 5.50 on the morning of 31st June, I saw the prisoner leave the house, No. 8, Duke Street—I asked him if he lived there, and he said he had been living there three months.

CAROLINE BARLEY (re-examined.) The prisoner never lived at 8, Duke Street.

Prisoner's Defence. It is nothing but a police prosecution. I am entirely innocent, the policeman says he saw me on 31st June; he could not have seen me then, at all events. I was not in Duke Street at all, and never entered a house.


He also PLEADED GUILTY* to having been before convicted, in 1866.

Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-528
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

528. JOSEPH BROOKE (38), was indicted for that he having been adjudicated bankrupt, and having in his possession certain property, did not fully and truly discover to the trustee that property, with intent to defraud his creditors. Other Counts—Concealing the property from the trustee, and fraudulently removing part of his property with intent to defraud his creditors.

MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.

BERTRAND ROBERT JOHNSON . I am a clerk in the Record Department of the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the proceedings in the bankruptcy of Joseph Brooke—I did not see him there myself.

HENRY SHELLARD . I was appointed trustee in the bankruptcy of Joseph Brooke—he was a rag merchant at 61 and 62, Fashion Street—I was appointed trustee after 9th May—the prisoner is the man—these proceedings refer to him.

B. R. JOHNSON (re-called.) The petition for liquidation was signed on 14th March, and filed on 15th—Mr. Samuel Green was appointed receiver on 16th March—it was entered into bankruptcy, and he was adjudicated bankrupt on 27th April—on the 9th May, Mr. Shellard was appointed trustee; that was the first meeting of the creditors.

ROBERT DOO . I was in the prisoner's service as clerk in March last—this cheque has been in my possession, but I can't say that I received it—I know Mr. Davis—I did not receive it myself from him—this receipt is not in my writing—I should say it is Mrs. Brooke's writing—my signature is on the back of it, and that enables me to say that it passed through my hands—I have no recollection of cashing it—I might have done so—if I got the money I should give it to Mrs. Brooke—I always handed over all the money I received. (The cheque was dated in March, 1871, for 18l. 14s., drawn by Davis in favour of the defendant.) I made out this account for Mr. Wagstaff, and on the 15th March I received this cheque for 25l. in favour of Mr. Brooke, on order—there is no endorsement on the back—I went back to Mr. Wagstaff afterwards, and he gave me 20l. in cash, and a cheque for 5l. instead—I cashed the cheque, and handed the whole of the money to Mrs. Brooke, at 61, Fashion Street—Mr. Brooke was living there on the day the cheque is dated—he was not present when I handed the money to Mrs.

Brooke—this cheque of 17th March, drawn by Wagstaff in favour of Brooke, for 1l. 4s., 6d., is endorsed by me—that made up the amount of the account—I gave this receipt to Mr. Wagstaff—I cashed that cheque, and handed the money to Mrs. Brooke, and a part of it was afterwards given to Messrs. Green & Son—Mr. Brooke was at 61, Fashion Street, when I gave Mrs. Brooke the money—she acted in the business—I gave her the moneys on every occasion—Mr. Brooke was ill at the time—I kept some of the books—Mr. Brooke saw the books from day to day, when he was well enough—I don't recollect Mr. Brooke being present when I handed money to Mrs. Brooke—if he had been, I should have handed him the money—there was no cash-book kept—there were two ledgers, and a book for goods in and goods out—Mr. Wagstaffs account is not entered in the ledger—Mr. Brooke kept that, and he was not well at the time—I kept one ledger, but not the one that would go into—I think I left the service on 1st April—I left him at Fashion Street, living with his wife—the prisoner was up stairs in bed on all those three days when I received the money—I did not make entries of all the three sums—two of them are here—I frequently endorsed cheques for Mr. Brooke—he knew of it, and approved of it—the whole of the body of this bill of exchange is in Mr. Brooke's writing—it is dated June, 1870, for 90l. 7s. 6d., and accepted by Jonathan Hurst—that is in the ledger—I know nothing about that bill of exchange, or about the goods for which it was given in payment—I think this I O U of the 27th April, 1871, is in the handwriting of John Atkinson—he is a rag merchant—I have frequently seen him at my master's place—I had left at the time this was given—this paper correctly represents goods that were packed under my directions—I made the list myself—they were goods sent away on 10th March, to Mr. Eastwood, of Dewsbury—I believe that was done by Mr. Brooke's directions—I don't recollect who told me, but I think it was Mrs. Brooke—Mr. Brooke was not there when they were being packed—I think he was up stairs—I won't swear that he was not there, but I don't remember that he was—I sent two or three lot a of goods to Mr. Eastwood at that time—this list represents another delivery of goods to Mr. Eastwood, on 13th March—it was made out from the goods themselves, sent from the premises in Fashion Street—they were consigned direct to Mr. Benjamin Eastwood, of Dewsbury—on 11th March, I sent the goods mentioned in this list to Mr. Ferrari, of Dewsbury—there is another list of the same date—I should think they were all sent at the same time—on 10th March goods were sent to Morley Station, to Joseph Brooke's order—these two papers are in my handwriting, and represent the goods packed at Fashion Street—this represents more than 100 bags of rags, sent on 13th and 14th March, to Maidstone, to Mr. Brooke's order—that list was also made out from the goods themselves—they were all packed at Fashion Street—I can't say how many tons were sent away on 13th and 14th, without referring to the papers—these receipts were drawn up by me to be signed by the railway companies—I can't say whether I got them back from the carman, or whether Mrs. Brooke did.

Prisoner. Q. Have not I been in the habit of sending goods regularly into the country? A. Yes, large quantities, two or three times a week, sometimes more frequently—you followed them down into the country for the purpose of selling them—you have been in the habit of sending to that address, at Dewsbury, for years.

Re-examined. I did not know that on the 14th he had signed a declaration of insolvency—he generally follows the goods down into the country

the next day, but sometimes it would be a month before he went—the goods were generally entered in the books as goods sent out.

WILLIAM DAWSON . I am a clerk at the Shoreditch Branch of the London and County Bank—Mr. Wagstaff has an account there in the name of Wagstaff & Sons—these two cheques are charged to his account—I paid cash for them.

WILLIAM ALLEN . I am a clerk in the London and County Bank, Whitechapel Branch—Mr. Davis has an account there—I paid cash for this cheque for 18l. 16s., on 14th March.

ALEXANDER MARAY . I am a clerk in the goods department of the Great Eastern Railway—on the 10th March the rags described in one of these notes were consigned to Eastwood, of Dewsbury, on our line; and also twenty-nine bags to the same person, by Joseph Brooke—on 11th March, seventeen bags to Ferrari—on the 10th, there were eleven bags, and on the 11th, thirty-five bags, consigned to Joseph Brooke, at Morley—on the 11th, there were thirteen bags sent to Eastwood, of Dewsbury; and also three to Osset Station, to the order of Joseph Brooke, on the 13th.

Prisoner. Q. Have I not been in the habit of sending to those places by your line? A. Yes, you have.

GEORGE WALLIS . I am a clerk in the South Eastern Railway, at Bricklayers' Arms Station—on the 14th of March, there were ninety-eight bags, weighing about twelve tons, sent to the Maidstone Station, to the order of Joseph Brooke.

HENRY SHELLARD (re-called). I was a creditor for over 100l., and I was appointed trustee on the 9th May—Mr. Green was appointed as receiver, about the middle of April, by the creditors; and, by the Court, on the 9th May—the defendant did not account to me for the cheque of Mr. Wagstaff's for 18l. 16s., nor for 25l., on 15th March, and 12l. 4s., 6d. on the 17th—he never handed over to me the bill for 90l. 7s., 6d., which has been produced, or the I O U of Atkinson for 20l.—I was not aware that he was in possession of 59l. 7s., 3 1/2 d. in money, and those securities—I had information from the bankrupt, and I went to Maidstone, and sold the rags that were sent there—the railway company were claiming their expenses, and said they would sell them themselves—the gross amount they realized was 42l. 16s., and there was 7l. 16s., expenses—I had another order to go to Dewsbury from the Registrar—the rags were sold by the auctioneers there, and they handed me the money—the amount realized altogether at Dewsbury, Morley, and Maidstone, was about 160l.—that is all I recovered myself; the solicitors have recovered other moneys—he gave up 342l. to the solicitors, from some foreign consignments—I don't know whether that was before any order was made to prosecute—I don't know the date—I was present at the first meeting of creditors, on 9th May—the defendant did not attend—a certificate of illness was sent—I never saw him, except once, in the street.

JOSEPH PERRY . I am the largest creditor—he owed me 555l. 19s., 10d.—I attended on the 9th May, when the certificate of illness was used—I left the Court about 2.15, and I saw the defendant at 3.30, opposite Bishopsgate Church—he was carrying two brown paper parcels—I was one of the committee of inspection from the first—of course I was aware of the way in which he had been dealing with his property at that time—he never gave me any information with reference to the notes or gold which was found on him at the workhouse, nor with reference to any of the cheques which he received from Wagstaff and Davis.

SAMUEL GREEN . I am a member of the firm of Green & Sons, auctioneers and surveyors, in St. Swithin's Lane—on 16th March I was appointed receiver of the prisoner's estate, and on the 17th I took possession—I received no cash at that time—during the time I acted as receiver, I received from Mrs. Brooke 10l., and a bank bill for 11l. 7s., 4d.—the 10l. was part of the proceeds of the money received from Wagstaff—I heard that they had received it, and Mrs. Brooke handed me the 10l.—I have not received any other moneys from Mr. or Mrs. Brooke; I have from debtors—I have not received anything from Mr. or Mrs. Brooke, with reference to Davis or Wagstaff—I have received a cheque from Davis direct—when I went to take possession I asked Mrs. Brooke what assets there were, and she told me of the things which had been sent away; and she handed me those documents with the particulars of those goods that had been sent away—I did not know at all of 59l. 7s., 3 1/2 d., which was found on the defendant, or of the I O U of Atkinson, or the bill of exchange.

Prisoner. Q. I think when I was putting down the bad debts, you told me it was useless putting them down? A. I did not know whether they were good or bad, I said it was useless carrying them out if you thought they were bad—there was a long list of bad debts—the 90l. bill I included in the bad debts—Atkinson is down as a bad debt for 241l. 1s., 5d.—W. Hurst is down for 14s., 2d. as a good debt, and J. Hurst is not good for 90l.—the bill was due in October, 1870, and I had not to deal with the matter till March, 1871—there are a great many entries in the books to J. Atkinson—but I don't see any entry on April 17th, of an I O U for 20l.

Prisoner. Atkinson was a bankrupt, at the time he failed I was the largest creditor, for 321l.

Re-examined. There is no entry of 18l. 16s., received from Davis in respect of goods between the 14th and 23rd February; Yes, "cheque 18l. 16s.," on 14th March—it was entered before we had the books.

ROBERT DOO (re-called). That entry is not my handwriting—here is no entry in the ledger of Mr. Wagstaff's account—it was the only transaction, and it was not entered in the ledger.

SAMUEL GREEN (continued). There was no cash-book—only the banker's books—10l. of the money paid by Wagstaff was handed to me by Mrs. Brooke—the other she said had been used for house-keeping—the goods sold to Wagstaff are entered in the "out" book, but not in the ledger—there are three entries on 10th March—it was from that we knew that Wagstaff was indebted to the estate, and also from information—I think I got the money on the 20th or 22nd March—I thought the amount was 14l. or 16l., I was not aware it was 37l. 6s., 6d.—I have never gone into the figures to see how much it made—there were no figures put to them, and Mr. Brooke was very ill, I could not see him—I could not get the information about the prices.

HENRY SEYMOUR CLARK . I am relieving officer at Whitechapel Union—the defendant was brought to the workhouse on 11th May—I searched him—I found five 10l. notes, 8l. 10s., in gold, 16s., in silver, and 1s., 3 1/2 d. in copper, making 59l. 7s., 3 1/2 d.—I also found this I O U for 20l., and the bill of exchange for 90l. 7s., 6d.—the notes were wrapped in paper—the prisoner handed them to me—he took them from a breast pocket—I can't say whether it was inside his waistcoat—I also found a pocket-book containing various papers, but nothing important.

GEORGE STANCOMBE (Policeman H 146). I took the prisoner on a warrant,

on 17th May, at the Whitechapel workhouse—he was taken to Worship Street, and committed for trial, and admitted to bail two days afterwards—he was surrendered by the bail at the Police Court yesterday week—they told me he had been drunk ever since he had been out, and they had reasons to suspect he would not surrender—he said he did not intend to go away.

THE COURT was of opinion that the only part of the indictment which could be left to the Jury was that relating to the 59l. odd.

Prisoner's Defence. I borrowed 30l. of Thomas Heyling, of Castle Street, Bishopsgate, which I owe him now. I don't think he is here. I received 19l. for goods which they left in my place, and which I sold; and I had 10l. from Mr. Green.

SAMUEL GREEN (re-examined). I gave him 5l. to enable him to go into Yorkshire, and about three weeks after that I gave Mrs. Brooke 5l.—I think it was on 22nd March; she said they had no victuals in the house, and I gave her 5l.—he was allowed stock, I believe, to the amount of 20l.

Prisoner. I sold everything they left in the place, my own clothing and my wife's, and I got 19l. odd by that; that is the explanation I wish to give to the Jury.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-529
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

Related Material

529. CLARA LEVY (25), and JOSEPH LEVY (25) , Stealing a purse, a ring, and 9s., the property of Amelia Way, from her person.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution.

AMELIA WAY . I live at 34, St. Andrew's Hill—on the night of 7th June, about 6.25, I was in St. Paul's Churchyard—I saw the female prisoner standing at the side of me, at Spence's—I felt her hand in my pocket, and missed my purse—I went to her, and told her she had my purse—she said she had not, that she was a respectable married woman—I said I would have her searched—this (produced) is my purse—it contained 9s., 7d., and a gold ring—the male prisoner stood at my side—he said "Are you sure that woman has got your purse," and I said "Yes."

Prisoner Clara. Q. Did you not speak to a fair person dressed in light clothes? A. No, I spoke to you—you had my purse—I did not accuse a young woman with a light hat.

JOHN STRIKE . I am a gate porter at the British Museum—I live at 68, Pitfield Street, Pimlico—on the evening of 7th June, I was in St. Paul's Churchyard—I saw the last witness accuse the female prisoner of picking her pocket of a purse—I was standing behind them—I saw her pass the purse from her left hand to the male prisoner's right hand, and he put it in his pocket, and walked away—I followed him till I saw a policeman, and I then gave him in charge—I took him back to St. Paul's—when he got there, he took the purse out, and said he was going to return it to the prosecutor, that he had picked it up.

Prisoner Clara. Q. At the police-station, did not you say there was a fair person next to this young man? A. There was another female with you, I know; but I saw you pass the purse to the male prisoner.

ROBERT TRUSCOTT (City Policeman 405). On the evening of 7th June, I saw the male prisoner running from St. Paul's Churchyard towards Ludgate Hill—the last witness spoke to me, and I stopped the prisoner, and charged him with stealing a purse—he said he had picked it up—I took him back to St. Paul's Churchyard, and met the prosecutrix—she accused the female prisoner of stealing the purse in my presence, and she identified

the purse—I took them both to the station—some purses were found at the prisoners' residence.

Prisons Clara. Q. Did you not leave the station to see if there was a fair person outside? A. You said there was another woman who had stolen it, and I left the station to see if I could see anyone, as Mr. Strike said he would know her again—I did not see anyone.

Prisoner Joseph. Q. Did not the prosecutrix say that all she desired was her purse back, and I handed it to her? A. You took the purse from your trowsers pocket, and I took it from your hand—she did not say in my hearing, that if she got the purse back, she would not go on with the prosecution.

Prisoner Clara's Defence. I did not do it.

Prisoner Joseph's Defence. We were passing through St. Paul's Church-yard, and I saw the prosecutrix accusing a young woman in a white hat of picking her pocket. We went up to see what was the matter. I saw her drop the parse on the ground, and I picked it up, and thought I would keep it. I walked round to the female prisoner and showed her the purse. I turned round, and saw Mr. Strike looking at me, and I walked away. I have always borne a good character.


CLARA LEVY— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

JOSEPH LEVY— Two Years' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-530
VerdictsNot Guilty > directed; Not Guilty > unknown

Related Material

530. ELIZABETH MACHIN (30) , Stealing 1 box, 5lbs. of pork, 1lb. of butter, 4lbs. of potatoes, 11/2 pint of gin, and a bottle; and on 23rd June, 31/2 gallons of gin, 6l. 10s., and one cwt. of sugar, of Thomas Magnus Cattlin, her master, and GEORGE CLARKE (32) , Feloniously receiving the same.

MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS MAGNUS CATTLIN . I live at East Cowes, Isle of Wight, and am a solicitor—I have an office in London, at 22, Ely Place—Machin was in my service for seven months—she disappeared on 23rd June—I go down from London always on Friday night, and arrive there by the last boat, and return to London on Monday morning—I found she had left on 23rd June, shortly before I got there—I missed account books, a bag containing about 3l.—I also missed some receipts for money, a jar of gin which I had from Smith and Co., about 4 gallons; and nearly a cwt. of groceries, and all the pork—I had a great number of pigs—I missed all my provisions, two silver forks, and a great quantity of sugar; I should think a cwt. altogether—I missed account books—I have seen nothing since, except the account books and a box which had been sent to George Clarke—it was found on his premises, and I identified it—it was a peculiar box, with curious nails—I received this letter from Machin on the Wednesday after she left on the Friday—"Tuesday. Dear sir. I was so ill yesterday I could not go for you, but, with your kind permission, I will be at 22, Ely Place, at 7 o'clock precisely to-night. I trust you will not be too angry with me. I have suffered enough for my imprudence. Your lost Lizzy. I am staying with a young woman I used to work with in Oxford Street"—I wrote this letter, dated 27th June, in reply, telling her to come to Ely Place at once—I also received this letter from her on Tuesday, 26th June—"I am quite ashamed to write to you after my bad conduct, and I suppose you don't care to see me, do you? I am very ill, my back is so bad I can scarcely move. That woman next door nearly drove me mad when she came; she said I was

enceinte. I have lived in misery ever since they have been there. Will you please write; don't be too angry with me. On Saturday morning I would have given worlds to have been back with you. I came across by the 8 o'clock boat, and stopped at the Temperance Hotel. I am miserable. Will you write to me at New North Street, and I will call for the letter. I will be sure to come on Tuesday next and settle accounts; if you will allow me, I will come and make up my accounts with you. I am sorry I made myself so wickedly foolish. I had no idea of it at 4 o'clock p.m. "She came to the office on Wednesday, at 7 o'clock—I asked her where she had been living—she said at a coffee-shop—I asked what she had done with the boxes she had taken away—she said they were at 29, New North Street—I gave her in custody—the detective told her what it was for, in my presence—I don't think she made any reply—we went down; the detective and the prisoner got' into a cab, and I got on the box to go with them to make the charge—the detective, who is employed in Ely Place, communicated something to me—Clarke came up as the detective spoke—I, riding outside the cab, saw that he followed to the station-house—the inspector was not there to take the charge, and I went with Detective Wakefield to 29, New North Street; to try to find the boxes; we found that they had been taken away in a truck by a person answering the description of Clarke—we then went back to the station, and saw him still outside—he was called in and asked his name, and he said "George Clarke"—he refused to say where he lived, where he worked, what he had been doing for the last six months, and most positively denied that he had touched the boxes, or moved them away in a truck—he was also asked whether he lived at 7, Holy well Lane, Shoreditch, and he most positively said he did net—he afterwards admitted that he had taken the boxes and moved them away in a truck from New North Street, where she told me they were taken to, and he refused to state where he had taken them to—the female prisoner wished to give up the boxes, and he said "Recollect, if you do they will find the letters"—she did not do so, and we have not been able to discover the letters—I learnt afterwards that the boxes had been sent to 7, Holy well Lane, and I went there and found this box only, and a letter to a Mrs. Spranklin, signed "Lizzie"—nothing was found on the female prisoner but the two account books, and the letters that I had written to her—the books were account books of fruit sold, and the other is an account of milk—she was housekeeper in my service—I keep a great many gardeners—I have a cottage residence, and a very considerable quantity of land—she had no right to take those account books.

Machin. Q. Have you brought the bills of the grocery? A. No—I sent down nearly a cwt. shortly before, from Messrs. Dean & Co.—when I got down, all the sugar was gone—I had not sufficient, even for my tea—the jar of gin contained four gallons, and there had not been anything like a bottle taken out of it—there is not a drop now—I have searched in the adjoining house, but I have not found it.

Clarke. Q. You stated you had lost upwards of three gallons of gin? A. Yes; more than 31/2—I never saw the female prisoner drink any malt liquor—I know she did not drink beer—she had the keys of all my place, and I had full confidence in her—she received my money, and accounted to me for 20l. or 40l.; she had anything she wanted, which was reasonable and proper—she was with me seven months—I don't know how long it would take to drink three gallons of gin; but she took a box away with her.

ANN HOWE . I live at East Cowes, and occupy one of Mr. Cattlin's

cottages, with my husband, a short distance from his residence—in May last I saw a boy, directed to George Clarke, taken away from Mr. Cattlin's house by my husband, by Miss Machin's direction, to the pontoon—it was addressed to 7, Holywell Lane, Shoreditch—there was another parcel, about a month ago—there was some butter, pork, flour, and a pint and a half bottle of gin—I helped to pack the box—she said she was going to send several things to George Clarke, such as a neck tie, and a yellow silk handkerchief—she said she was going to send another parcel of provisions when the currants were ripe—I know Clarke's writing—she received letters from him four or five times a week—I saw her when she left—she had a large travelling box with her; it was very heavy—she was disgustingly intoxicated—I saw that she had some money in a bag, about 2l. 15s., or 3l.—I could not say to a shilling—I asked her to return to Mr. Cattlin's till he came home, and she struck me in the chest, and said she did not care what I said—she went away with the box and the bag of money.

Machin. Q. How do you know what money was in the bag? A. I was at Ryde, and I saw my husband give you the money—you took out gooseberries; I should think five or six bushels—the Thursday, I should think, there were about five or six bushels sold, and some strawberries—I have seen you give away provisions at West Cowes, to Mrs. Spranklin.

JURY. Q. You say you assisted in packing the goods? A. Yes—I did not help to pack her clothes box; but the box that went to George Clarke—I did not know what she intended to do with it.

Clarke. Q. Could you swear that was the box that was taken away? A. Yes—my husband carried it as far as the pontoon—he is in Court.

JAMES COLLIERS . I am railway clerk at the pontoon at East Cowes—on 27th May there is an entry in my book of a box sent to George Clarke, of Shoreditch, London—the weight was 1qr.—it was a similar box to this—there was another box on 22nd June—Machin came down to the pontoon on 23rd June—I understood that she was going to London; she had a box with her—I put it on board the steamboat; I should think it weighed nearly a cwt.—I heard her say that she was going away, and she would see Mr. Cattlin at his office on the following Tuesday—I asked her when she was going—she said she was going to leave Mr. Cattlin's; that they had had a row, and she was going to leave, and going to London, and she should see Mr. Cattlin in London, at his office.

SARAH CLARKE . I live at 7, Holywell Lane—I am the male prisoner's mother—he lives with me—this box came to my house some time in May—Machin came there last Sunday week—she stopped two nights—my son went away with her—the box remained at my place; it contained pork, and eggs, and other things—I have eaten all the things, not knowing they were come by dishonestly—there was no gin in it; I am confident of that—I asked my son, when he came in, to have a piece of pork—there were three rabbits and some butter—I can't say who the box was addressed to—I only know it was for Clarke, of 7, Holywell Lane, and I thought it was a gift from the country—I had never had any other box before, and I have not since.

Clarke. Q. Where was I at work before the box came? A. At Brooks', in Blackfriars, as potman—you were not at home when the box came—I went to Mr. Brooks for your character, but he is out of town, and Mrs. Brooks is ill, and can't be seen.

JOSEPH WAKEFIELD (Detective Officer.) On 28th June, I took Machin, at

Mr. Cattlin's, 22, Ely Place—I told her I was a police officer, and should take her for stealing 6l. or 7l., a quantity of grocery, and other articles, belonging to Mr. Cattlin—she said "It is not so much as that, I only brought away 25s.,"—I took her to the station; she was asked her address, and what she had done with the box she brought with her—she said it was at 29, New North Street, Bed Lion Square—I went there, and found the box had been taken away—I returned to the station, and I saw Clarke, who I had previously seen in Ely Place—I called him into the station, and asked him what he had done with the box he had moved from 29, New North Street—he said he had not moved one—Machin said he had, she had given him directions to move it, and she requested him to tell where it was—he then said he had moved it, but he should not tell where it was, and he also told her not to tell, for if she did we should find the letters in the box, which he did not wish to be read—I then took him in custody, and told him he would be charged with receiving the box and the different parcels sent to him, directed to 7, Holy well Lane, in May—he said he never received either parcels or box—Machin said "Yes, you did; you know I sent you a box with some pork, butter, and various things, and I also sent you a parcel with a hare and a rabbit, and other things"—he said "Oh, yes, I received them; I suppose you bought them"—she said "I bought the rabbits and the hare, and I made the butter, and not being used to making butter I sent a piece, and some pork, and other articles, to them to taste"—I found a letter and two books, all Machin's, and this box at 7, Holywell Street.

The COURT considered that there was no case against Clarke.


Machin's Defence. Is it likely, that if I had gone away with the money, I should write to go to him to make up my accounts? I did wrong in going away, but if I had stolen the money, should I have gone to his house? I have known Mr. Cattlin for years.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-531
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

531. FREDERICK JONES (28) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing one watch of Robert Riley, from his person, having been before convicted in March 1866.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. And

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-532
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

532. MARY FLINDERS (38) , to stealing one coat, one waistcoat, and one jacket, of Uriah Trew, having been before convicted in January, 1871.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

OLD COURT, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, July 12th, 13th, 14th, and 15th.

For the case of EDMUND WALTER POOK, tried on these days, set "Kent Cases."

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 12th, 1871,

Before Mr. Baron Channell.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-533
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

533. PHILIP NUNNEY (45) , For the wilful murder of Rebecca Burgin.

MESSRS. POLAND and GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. STRAIGHT and HORACE BROWN the Defence.

ELIZABETH BURGIN . I live at 47, Wicklow Street, King's Cross the deceased, Rebecca Burgin, was my mother, her age was 44 or 45—she lived at the time of her death at 9, Wicklow Street, with the prisoner—she had

lived with him for a length of time—they had no family—they were always quarrelling—my mother was a sober woman—the last time I saw her alive was Tuesday night, 28th April, and this happened on Thursday; she then seemed very poorly, and very down in her spirits—the prisoner was calling me and my mother frightful names all the time I was there—he was very tipsy—I left them together between 8 and 9 o'clock, in the up stairs room—I have often heard him threaten to take her life; the last time was two or three days before Christmas, and I went and fetched Mrs. Bailey, who came in—he said that he would strangle her and me too—as I left on the Tuesday evening, and was coming down stairs, he told me to go and hang my b——self—I next saw my mother on the day of the inquest, dead.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. My mother was a laundress—they had a sitting room, bedroom, and washhouse—I was examined before the Magistrate, and said the same there as now—as far as I can say, when I left my mother they were quarrelling.

CHARLOTTE BAILEY . I am the wife of William Bailey, of 8, Wicklow Street, King's Cross Road, next door to the prisoner and the deceased—I have known them about ten years; they lived together as man and wife, and she passed as Mrs. Nunney—she was a laundress, and he is a painter—I saw them both on Wednesday, the 26th, the day before this, about 2 o'clock, the deccased was sitting in a chair, and the prisoner was lying on the floor asleep—she had been crying—I was not with them five minutes, and nothing took place between them while I was there—next morning, Thursday, some person brought a message to me, between 10 and 10.30, in consequence of which I went to the prisoner's house—I first went to the front door and knocked three times with the knocker, at intervals of five or six minutes, but getting no answer I went through the next door neighbour's house, and got over the pailings, and went to the prisoner's back door—I found it fastened inside—I rattled the latch, not more than two minutes, and pushed it to and fro—I then saw through the window the prisoner coming down, he opened the door, he had a rope round his neck—I know enough of the arrangements of the house to say that he came down from the room where the female lay—the staircase leads to the bed room—there is only one room up stairs—his face was blue—the rope was tied with a knot, but in my flurry I could not see on which side the knot was—his manner was excited as if he was a little drunk—he had his clothes on—I spoke first—I asked him whatever he was doing—he said "Why?"—I said "Where is your Mrs.?"—he said "She is up stairs dead, she has hung herself'—I made no reply—a knock then came to the front door—the rope was not round his neck then, I lifted it over his head directly I saw him—it was not tight, it was rather loose, but there was a knot which could slip—there was a mark just under his throat—he opened the front door and it was Mr. Hill, who came for some washing and asked for Mrs. Nunney—the prisoner told him that she had hung herself—I asked Hill to go up and see if it were true—he went up first and I followed—when we got into the room we saw a large tent turn-up bedstead with a canopy, turned over, the bed stood against a wall and turned into a recess; the canopy was not fixed to the wall, it came down and went up with the bed—I can't tell whether it was fixed to the wall, but it did not go up and down with the bed, it had come a foot down, and one part was resting on the table, which was almost in the middle of the room—the bedstead seemed as if it had fallen down on the woman—I could not see her—I came down stairs and went fur a doctor

and a policeman—Mr. Hill came down with me—I had not been inside the door—the prisoner was in the front parlour, he stayed there till Dr. Purcell came—I went up with the doctor—Mr. Hill had then gone—the doctor and I lifted the bedstead off the body; one part of it was resting across the cheek, when we moved it; the woman was lying on her back in her usual dress, her hands lying beside her, and her feet straight out—she had a rope round her neck—she was dead—a policeman then came, and after that the prisoner came up stairs—the doctor asked him how it happened—he said she had hung herself through difficulties, as they were both going to do it the night before—he was rather boisterous and used bad words—I can't tell you what he said, but I believe the doctor can—I remained till they took me to the station with the doctor—when I took the rope from the prisoner's neck, I threw it in the yard—I afterwards picked it up and gave it to the sergeant.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I have lived four years next door to these people; they had the whole house—the front door was only closed in the usual way—at ordinary times you could not get in at the front door without knocking—when I got into the house the front door was closed in the usual way, with the latch—I should say the prisoner had been drinking—he was incoherent in his manner—the bad words did not apply to anything in particular—I called him Philip, as I knew him very well—he has been living with her ten years—her age was about thirty-five—I had not heard of their quarrelling, or his threatening her—I supposed she was married—no one else lived in the house.

COURT. Q. When you got to the back, was there a window so that you could see the prisoner coming down? A. Yes, but I could only see the two or three bottom stairs—he came down them the same as usual—I did not discover the rope round his neck till he unbolted the door—it was loose, which allowed me to get it over his head.

JOHN HILL . I live at 1, Wicklow Street—on 27th April, at 10 o'clock in the morning, I went to 9, Wicklow Street for some washing—I knocked at the door twice, and receiving no answer went away—as I returned I knocked again, that was twenty minutes after, and the prisoner opened the door in a state of agitation—I said "My good man, what is the matter?"—he said "My wife has hung herself"—I said "You don't mean that?"—he said "I do, and if you had been a few minutes longer, I should have done the same"—Mrs. Bailey then came forward from the back part of the house—I went up stairs, and she followed me—it is a small room—the bedstead was down in a heap in the middle of the floor—I went between the bed and the wall, and saw the deccased lying by the side of the bedstead, on her back; part of the bedstead rested on her—there was a rope round her neck—I did not know her, only by her washing for me since November when my wife died—Mrs. Bailey went for a policeman.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I first went to the house at 10 o'clock, as near as I can say—I then took a walk as far as the Caledonian Road, and according to my calculation got there again in twenty minutes—I then knocked loudly with the knocker—I knew the prisoner by sight, but had not seen him out that morning, or the woman.

COURT. Q. Give us the best account you can of the rope round the woman's neck? A. It was slack—it was a long piece—it was not broken, I think—it was not tight round her neck.

EDWARD GODFREY PURCELL . I am a surgeon, of 123, King's Cross Road

—on Thursday morning, 27th April, I was sent for to 9, Wicklow Street, about 10.45—I am pretty accurate about the time—I saw Mrs. Bailey—I went up stairs into the room, nobody was there but myself—the bed and bedstead were lying on the deccased—it was a four-post bedstead, with a canopy, or cornice, supported by the four posts—when it is put up in the day time the cornice would go between the four posts; they are at the head only—the whole thing had come down, and the woman was lying under it, on her back; her arms were by her side, and her legs extended—she was dead—there was a rope round her neck which had a slip knot, or noose, so that it could be made tighter, or looser; it was relaxed, and the further end of it had been cut—it was about 4ft. long—there was also a rope tied to the cornice which had a free end of 41/2ft.—it was the same material and pattern as the other—to the best of my judgment the woman had been dead an hour and a half or more—she was warm—her neck was marked by the rope, and the mark fitted the rope accurately—there was a mark on her cheek-bone, where the cornice was lying on her—there were some fuselages on the stocking of the right foot, as if they had fallen there, not as if anything had been done to it—I lifted the bed off her—the prisoner was then in the room, and I asked him "How did this occur?"—he said, in consequence of baring made away with some property, and in order to prevent an exposure they had mutually agreed to destroy themselves; that he had been out to the Pander public-house that morning, at 7.20, to fetch some rum and gin, and when he came back he found she had forestalled him—he said "fetch," or "bring"—I understood him to say he took something home in a bottle, and that he was away five minutes—I did not notice his neck at all—he went down stairs, and brought up a portion of another bedstead, which he fixed up over the cornice, and said that was how he intended to destroy himself at one end, and his wife at the other—though the bedstead was down upon the woman, the whole of it was there—I could see that what he brought up was part of another bedstead—when the bedstead was done up in the day time, it went between those four posts—I made this sketch (produced)—it is what I call the canopy, or cornice—he put what he brought up across the cornice—there was a resting place for it—there he said he intended to hang from one end, and his old woman from the other—this portion went to the wall—there was room on either side of the bed for anyone to stand—a person could go between it and the wall on each side—the constables then took him—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination of the deceased, about fifty-six hours after the occurrence—the body was well nourished, and, except on the neck, there were no marks of violence—there was an ecchymosed mark on the neck; not all round, but in front, and on the left side, it was interrupted, and across the front of the windpipe, there was a larger one where the knot pressed—in my judgment the cause of death was asphyxia by strangulation, produced by hanging—I examined the bedstead on the following Monday, or Tuesday, and observed a depressed mark on the cornice, such as a rope would make, on the right hand side, not in front—no rope was tied there then, but a piece of rope was hanging on the posterior part—there was no top to the cornice, it was a mere frame, and was 6ft. 5in. high from the floor—the bedstead would not stand very firm when folded up, but it would keep up—the bed was about 19 in, from the floor when let down.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. The bed shuts up into the back portion during the day—the prisoner seemed very much excited, but I could

not tell whether it was from drink—I should not have formed the conclusion that he had been drinking, unless I had heard it—I saw no liquor or bottle in his possession—the further end of the rope from the woman's neck had been cut, and what was round her neck was relaxed, I could get two or three fingers in—I tried the cornice, it was sufficiently strong to bear my weight.

COURT. Q. Did you see any chairs in the room? A. Two or three—there can be no doubt that the cause of death was asphyxia, and I thought at the time that the strangulation might have been done by another person—I altered that opinion when the Coroner's Jury went to view the body, about five or six hours afterwards; I then concluded that the death was from hanging, as the mark was more developed then—my opinion then, was suicide, that she did it herself—I came to that conclusion because in the first instance the mark of hanging was not there, but afterwards it went right up to the ear; and at that time I had not examined the body—when I traced the altered marks, I thought it must have been her own act—I then examined the bed, after putting it together, I found it would sustain my own weight—I held the canopy with my hands, and hung on—I was high enough from the floor to put my hands on the cornice—the woman's height was 4ft. 10in., the cornice was 6ft. from the floor, and the bed 19in., which is included—we put the rope which was round her neck round the cornice and fixed it, and it left a fall of 6in., and her feet when suspended would be 7in. from the ground—the bedstead must have been up when the rope was put round the cornice—she could have put it there herself—the time she would take to become cold would depend upon the kind of clothing she had, and upon the temperature of the weather—there was no appearance of rigor mortis—she might have jumped off a chair, or off the bed—death would then have arisen from asphyxia—I believe that she really did hang, and she must have been taken away—the fall would bring the rope taut round her neck.

JOSEPH WILKS (Policeman G 234). On 27th April, about 10.45, I was called to 9, Wicklow Street, and saw Mrs. Bailey and Dr. Purcell—the prisoner was there; he smelt very strong of drink, and appeared very much excited—I saw the deceased lying on the floor, on her back, with her hands and feet quite straight—while the doctor was examining her neck, the prisoner said to him "I will tell you just how it was, Sir. This was a mutual arrangement between ourselves; last night we were both going to hang ourselves, but Mrs. Bailey came in, so we went to bed and agreed to get up and do it in the morning; about 7.30 I went to the Pindar of Wakefield, to get some rum, because we were going to have something to drink before we did it, and when I came back I found she had forestalled me; and seeing my wife dead, I then tried to make away with myself, but I found I could not do it in the bed room, so I went down in the washhouse and tried to do it there; but Mrs. Bailey came in and prevented me, and I am very sorry for it, because we both meant to die together, because we had been making away with other people's things; and, to avoid an exposure, we made up our minds to hang ourselves"—I took him down stairs, and be tried to force his way up stairs again several times, while the doctor was examining the woman—I asked him what he wanted to go up stairs for, and he said to see what they were doing, because the witness and the doctor might make any tale against him—in the first part of the conversation, he said "If you will follow me, I will tell you how we were going to

do it the night before"—I followed him to the washhouse; he got the piece of wood, went up, and placed it crossways on the canopy at the top of the bedstead, and said "I was going to hang at one end, and she at the other" pointing out that he was to hang agin the door, and she agin the fire-place, which was at the side of the bed—I believe the wood was strong enough for them to have done so, but I think the canopy would have toppled over.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Q. The Pindar is about 200 yards from where they lived—he was very much excited, and his breath smelt of rum, or some spirits—I am certain he said that they had arranged to do it the day before, but Mrs. Bailey had interrupted them.

CHARLOTTE BAILEY (re-examined). I was not there the night before—I was with my husband at St. James's Theatre, and have a witness to prove it.

DALE WHITING (Police Sergeant G 8). I went to 9, Wicklow Street, about 10.45, and saw the prisoner down stairs—I went up stairs and saw the doctor—the deccased was lying on the floor, and the bedstead was erected, standing upright—I told the prisoner he would be charged with causing the death of the deccased, and also with attempting to commit suicide—he said "I do not think it right that I have been kept down stairs while you and the other witnesses are up stairs—he was then taken to the station—he was very excited, and there was a slight mark round his neck, as if a rope had been round it—he smelt of rum, or some spirit—I found two bottles, each of which would hold a quartern, and which contained a very small quantity of rum, just enough to tell what was in them—I also found some pawnbroker's duplicates—this piece of rope (produced) I took off the deceased's neck, it is 41/2ft. long—this knot is in the same state; it was loose—I have tried it round the cornice—if a woman 4ft. 10in. high, stood on the bottom rail of the bedstead, which the mattrass lies on, her head would be on a level with the top of the cornice, and if she got off the rail there would be a fall of 19 inches—this other piece of rope was attached to the back cornice, pear the centre—as far as I know, from what I actually saw, the woman was not connected with that—I also produce a piece of rope from the yard, which was handed to me as having been taken off the prisoner's neck; the knot seems to have been tied.

COURT. Q. Was there any connection between the rape round the woman's neck and the rope you took from the cornice? A. No.

COURT to E. G. PURCELL. Q. What ropes did you see when you went? A. One on the deccased's neck, which I took off, and one hanging to the back portion of the canopy—there was a mark at the corner of the canopy, but not where this rope was tied.

MR. STRAIGHT submitted that down, to the passing of the statute of 7th George IV., the prisoner could not have been charged with murder, in being accessary to the self destruction of another person; and that, under the 23rd and 24th Vic. c. 94, ss. 1 and 2, he could not be so charged, unless he had been present at the time the suicide was committed, and cited the cases of " Reg. v. Russell," and "Reg. v. Briggs." THE COURT was of opinion that there was a question of fact for the Jury, as to whether the prisoner was particeps criminis of tile crime, supposing the Jury were of opinion that, to use the expression of the prisoner, "The deceased had forestalled him," then the point would arise; but the question as to whether he was an accessary before the fact, must go to the Jury.

The Jury considered that the deceased committed suicide in the prisoner's absence, entirely of her own accord, and independent of any agreement which she might have came to with the prisoner, and therefore found the prisoner


THIRD COURT—Wednesday, July 12th, 1871.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-534
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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534. WILLIAM LESLIE (37) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering two orders for the payment of 37l. and 18l., with intent to defraud— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-535
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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535. WILLIAM ANDERSON (22) , to feloniously forging and uttering two requests for the payment of 1l. each, with intent to defraud— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-536
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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536. DANIEL SULLIVAN (19) , Stealing 183 yards of velvet, and 20 yards of velveteen, of Stephen Court.

MR. ROLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.

HUGH CORRIE . I am porter to Mr. Stephen Court, of 145, Cheapside—on 21st March the prisoner came into the warehouse and asked whether there were any parcels for Johnson—I said "Yes, three"—he said "Which way are they?"—I said "One west, and two east"—he said "I will take the east parcels"—I told him they were large parcels—I brought one of them out and put it on his shoulders—he said "I think I can carry the two; what size is the other?"—I said "It is the same size"—I laid it on the top of the other one, and he went away with both—the parcels contained velvet and velveteen.

Prisoner. Q. Was I dressed the same at your place as I was at Guildhall? A. I don't remember how you were dressed—I don't rely upon your dress—I can swear you are the man.

MATTHEW HENRY HOARE . I am salesman to Mr. Court, 145, Cheapside—on 21st March two parcels were made up for Mr. Arnott, of Bethnal Green—they contained six pieces of velvet and one of velveteen, of the value of about 68l. or 70l.—the velvet is worth about 6s., 9d. a yard—I ordered the parcels to be delivered to Mr. Johnson's man—that is the way all parcels were sent at that time—he was our carman—this piece of velvet (produced) is part of what I packed up—it is the same quality and same kind—there are about twelve yards here.

CATHERINE BARTHELL . I am the wife of James Barthell, a framemaker, at 7, Hooper Street, Clerkenwell—on 21st or 22nd March the prisoner came to my house with a parcel containing this velvet—he said "Is your brother at home?"—I said "No"—he said "Can I come in your room?" I said "Yes"—he waited some minutes and then went out—he met my brother, and came back with him—he then asked me to pledge the velvet for him—I asked him if it was all right, and he said, yes he wanted some money—I took it to Mr. Bullworthy's, across the road, and got 1l. for it—I gave my brother the money at the prisoner's request—he said "Give it to your brother," and I did—I gave the prisoner the ticket, and he tore it up.

Prisoner. Q. Where is your brother? A. In prison, and I don't deny it—if he had not seen you, he would not be.

JAMBS BARTHELL (Interpreted). I am the husband of the last witness—on 21st March, between 8 and 9 o'clock, the prisoner took me to a public-house and paid for a pot of beer—he gave me a pattern of some velvet, and said "I have got 1000 yards of the same stuff"—he asked me if I wanted to buy it—I said "No," and came away, and left him there—I saw him again next day at my house, about 1 o'clock—I did not hear anything pass between my wife and the prisoner—I went away to my work—I saw a parcel there.

EDWARD MORGAN . I am assistant to Mr. Bullworthy, pawnbroker, of Aylesbury Street—I produce twelve yards of velvet, pawned on 22nd March, by Mrs. Barthell, who gave the name of Ann Queen—I gave her 1l. for it.

Prisoner. Q. You gave 1l. for that twelve yards, and it was worth 6s., 9d. a yard. A. I gave all that was asked—I did not see you with the velvet.

HENRY RANDALL (City Policeman 168). I took the prisoner on 20th June, about 8.30 or 9 o'clock in the evening, in Chiswell Street—I told him I was a police officer, and I should take him for being concerned in stealing a quantity of velvet in Cheapside, last March—he said "I don't know what you mean, I don't know anything about it"—I received information of the robbery, and then went to Mrs. Barthall, and from what she said I looked for the prisoner.

Prisoner. He took me down to the station and never told me what I was charged with, and after they brought the woman down he said "Now I will tell you what you are charged with"—I am innocent of it.

GUILTY **— Two Years' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-537
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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537. GEORGE THOMPSON (23) , Stealing one coat of John Heanlien, and one coat of Frederick Lahr.

MR. ROLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES MOUNTJOY (City Policeman 708). On the morning of 13th June, about 9.30, I was in St. Mary-at-Hill—the prisoner ran past me with these two coats—I followed and stopped him in Gracechurch Street—I asked him how he came in possession of them—he said they were his, he was a hawker and had been in Thames Street trying to sell them—I said I did not know him there, and should take him to the station and charge him with the unlawful possession of the coats.

Prisoner. Q. Did not I ask you to come with me and I would show you the man I bought them of. A. After I got to the station, you said you bought them of a Jew in Petticoat Lane—I asked you if you knew his name, you said "No," but you should know him if you saw him.

JOHN HEANLIEN . I am a merchant at 27 A, St. Mary-at-Hill—this coat is mine—I saw it safe about 9 o'clock, on Tuesday morning, 13th June, it was then behind the door—I missed it in the afternoon—it is worth about 1l.

FREDERICK LAHR . I am clerk to the last witness—this light coat is mine—I left it hanging up in the office, and I afterwards missed it.

Prisoner's Defence. I went to Petticoat Lane and bought the coats there—I did not know they were wrongly come by—I paid for them—there are plenty of coats hawked all over London.

GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY* to having been before convicted in April, 1870.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-538
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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538. WILLIAM GREEN (36) , Feloniously forging and uttering a request for the delivery of 24lbs. of soap, with intent to defraud.

MR. LATIMER conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN EDWARD FOX . I am a commercial traveller in the employ of Mr. Thompson, fancy soap maker, 12, Southampton Row—on 1st June the prisoner came into the shop and presented an envelope—I took it up stairs to Mr. Thompson, and he opened it and came down stairs—Mr. Thompson

asked him where he came from—he said "From Tottenham Court Road"—he asked him if Mr. Sedgwick gave him the order—he said "No," a carman gave it to him—Mr. Thompson gave him into custody—this (produced) is the order—Mr. Sedgwick is a customer of ours.

THOMAS WILLIAM SEDGWICK . I am an oil and colourman, at 97, Church Street, Grosvenor Square—this order is not in my writing—I did not sign it, and it was not signed by my authority—I know nothing about it—I never gave authority to any carman to fetch the soap for me—I deal with Mr. Thompson—I don't know the prisoner.

WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD (Policeman E 69). I was called at 2.45, and took the prisoner—I searched him and found an order in his pocket torn up, which I have pasted together on another piece of paper—he gave his address at 53, Suffolk Street, Borough, that was not correct.

THOMAS SNELL . I am a grocer—on Monday evening, 5th June, the prisoner came to my shop, and handed me an order in an envelope—I opened the envelope, and said "Who are you, who sent this order?"—he said it was given to him by a man—I said "This order is not in Mr. Pickard's writing, and there are plenty of orders about now, who are you?"—he said he was employed by a Mr. Mann, of Isleworth, a carrier—I said "Where is your cart?"—he said "Down in the Pimlico Road, taking in goods"—I said "I shall not deliver goods upon any orders of that kind, but when you bring the cart, and show that it is a genuine affair, you shall have them"—he went away—I tied up the parcel, but he never called for it—I never saw him before.

WILLIAM PICKARD . I know nothing about this document—I don't know the prisoner—I never signed this order, and it was not written by my authority.

JOHN MARSHALL . I am a publican, at Friar Street, Borough—I know the prisoner as a customer—I know nothing of these two orders—they are not in my writing.

Prisoner. You sent me with them? Witness. No, I never saw them before—I received a letter from the prisoner from the House of Detention, and I left a half-crown, and six stamps for him to get him more than the house allowed—I had a friendly meeting at my house to raise a fund for his defence—I did not say that he was to ask me for a character—I have always found him a steady upright man—I was examined as a witness at the Police Court for the defence—I am pedectly certain I never wrote those orders—I did not see them till I was at the Police Court—they are not written by me, or by my authority—I never signed them.

Prisoner's Defence. I was sent by that man, and he said he would give me a good character if I called on him.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Month's Imprisonment.. There was another indictment against the prisoner

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-539
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

539. MARGARET SMITH (25), and MARY ANN HOLMES (26) , Stealing a purse, and 25s., 6d., the property of James Cordner, from his person.

WALTER CATELL . I am a checker on the Midland Railway, at the goods station at the Victoria Docks—on 20th June, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I was on Tower Hill—I saw the two prisoners with a drunken sailor—I saw Holmes put her hand in his pocket, and take out a canvas bag—they gave him a shove, and he walked on—they went in another direction

—I followed them to the Black Horse, on Tower Hill—I went to the Tower Stairs, found a policeman, and gave them in costody.

PATRICK WALSH (Policeman H 123). Catell came to me, on 20th June, a little after 3 o'clock in the afternoon—he took me to a public-house, where I saw the two prisoners—he said he would give them in charge for robbing a sailor—he said "I saw Holmes put her hand in his pocket, and take out a canvas bag"—he said that loud enough for them to hear—I took them in custody—they said they were innocent of it; they did not do it—nothing connected with the robbery was found upon them—they were with another female—she was taken to the station, and charged, but there was no evidence to show she was with them, and she was discharged by the Magistrate—I saw the sailor about a quarter of an hour after the robbery—he was brought to the public-house—he was drunk—he was charged with being incapable, and was kept at the station-house.

Holmes' Defence. It is a very curious thing, if he saw me put my hand in the man's pocket, that he did not come across the road, and acquaint the sailor of me robbing him, and not allow me to go away. I am a licensed hawker, and sell watches. I went over to the sailor, who was with three sailors, and a female. I showed him the watch; he asked me how much I wanted for it, and I said "9s.,"—he said "I will give you three half-crowns," and I agreed to take it He said "I will get it from my ship-mates;" they refused to give it to him. I asked for the watch back, and he would not give it me, and we went to a public-house. I had a great deal of trouble to get it back. I had not been in the public-house four minutes when the policeman came, and took me.

PATRICK WALSH (re-examined). I found a metal watch on Holmes, with a black string to it.


FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, July 12th, 1871.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-540
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment; Imprisonment

Related Material

540. THOMAS WILLIAM CURRELL (15), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a cheque for 61l. 2s., 8d., the property of the London Tramways Company; and THOMAS EDWARDS (20), to Feloniously receiving the same. EDWARDS received a good character. EDWARDS— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. CURRELL— Nine Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-541
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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541. WILLIAM ROGERS (22) , to unlawfully attempting to abuse Sarah Anne Dewey (aged 8 years), Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-542
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

542. HENRY FULLER** (29) , to unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, two printed books and four printed books, with intent to defraud. He was further charged with, being previously convicted; to which he pleaded


THOMAS HEWITT (Police Officer, Manchester), The prisoner was convicted on 17th February, 1868—I produce the certificate—I was present at his trial—he got four months.

GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-543
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

543. CHARLES WILLIAMS (26) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of the Earl of Carysfort, and stealing therein the fittings of a dressing-case; having been previously convicted in April, 1866.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-544
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

544. WILLIAM FRANK GOSNEY (16) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Thomas de Meschin, with intent to murder him. Second Count—With intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; MR. BRINDLEY the Defence.

THOMAS DE MESCHIN . I am a doctor of laws, a barrister, and a member of the Inner Temple—I rent chambers of Mr. Wright, at 5, Fig Tree Court—the prisoner was my clerk—I went to Italy in December, 1870—I left a Christmas box for the prisoner and his brother, with their father, five shillings each—I sent word from time to time that I might return—I came back in May, suddenly—got to my chambers between 11 and 12 o'clock—I found the prisoner and his brother there—I said "Good morning"—I went into the large room—I observed there were not the same number of books that I had left—I went out of the room to go into the back-room, the door of which I found locked—I asked the prisoner's brother how it was the door was locked—he was in Mr. Wright's room, but near enough to hear me—I told his brother to fetch the key—I found they had both left the chambers—the prisoner's brother came back with the key—I was trying to open the door—I stooped down to put the key in—just when the door was unlocked, when I was still stooping, I received, on the side of my head, a heavy blow—I believed I received a very strong electric shock—I put my hands to feel where it came from, and was looking up, I received another blow from behind with the sharp end of a hammer, which rendered me insensible—while on the ground, the prisoner was standing on my left side, and he gave me another blow on my right ear, the pain of that blow restored me to consciousness—I then saw the prisoner standing over me with the hammer; I started up, went to the window and called for the police—I saw Mr. Bristowe standing at the hall-door, he said "My gracious, me, what is the matter?"—Dr. Brooks came in and attended to me.

Cross-examined. The boy's conduct was always good—he was not in my service at this time, nor responsible for the custody of my property—I was not paying his wages—I generally paid in advance—two weeks were due when I returned, I think—when I was first knocked down, I was nearly insensible—I was not conscious of being struck—the second blow rendered me insensible, and the third restored me to consciousness—he might have struck me again if he had liked—I can't say he was excited this morning—I never ill-treated the boy in my life, or any other boy.

RICHAUD W. T. BROOKS . I am a surgeon, of 168, Fleet Street—on 25th May, I was called into the prosecutor's chambers, and found a wound over his right eye 21/4 in. long, through the integuments to the bone; another wound over the temple, which went simply through the integuments; and another bruise on the neck, below the right ear—the wound on the posterior portion of the temple bone was a large circumscribed swelling, about 2in. in circumference—there were three wounds on the head—the injury in the front of the head was dangerous—he has not recovered from the effects yet—the bone is still denuded—I question whether he will ever really recover from it—all the wounds would be occasioned by such an instrument as that produced—very considerable force would be required to make those blows.

Cross-examined. His health would not have had much to do with the dangerous nature of the wounds—the severe blow has torn the periosteum from the bone; that bone will naturally decay, and that is what is taking place now—I am afraid it will not recover again—I have not met cases where

patients have recovered—the only case I know of, is where a patient died fifteen years after, with about 300 epileptic fits—the wound in the head was the more dangerous wound.

COURT. Q. Was it such a wound as would endanger the life of every healthy subject? A. It would.

EDWARD BRISCOLL (City Policeman 421). On 25th May, I was called about 12 o'clock to Dr. De Meschin's chambers—I apprehended the prisoner in the London Road, on 27th May—I said "William, I want you, I suppose you know what for?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You are charged with assaulting Dr. De Meschin with a hammer"—he said "He used to beat me and knock me about so, and it was through, that that I did it"—I took him to the station—the inspector read the charge to him—he said "I didn't intend to kill him"—the inspector asked him where he got the hammer from—he said he had sent his brother to fetch it from home.

EDWARD GOSNEY . I am the prisoner's brother—I was not called at the Police Court—on the morning before the prosecutor returned, as me and my brother were going to the office, he said to me "Ted, when you go home to dinner, bring mother's hammer, as I want to lower the caudle lamp in Mr. Wright's room"—he went out soon after, and had something to drink—I was not with him—this was on the morning the prosecutor returned—I was in the hall when the prosecutor came in—he wanted to go into the little room; he said to me "Edward, have you got the key?"—I said "No, Sir, it is at home"—my brother could hear this—my master said "Will you go and fetch it?"—I ran home and fetched it—I met my brother; he said "Don't forget to bring the hammer with you"—he went with me, and waited outside the door of the house, and walked with me, after I gave him the hammer, to the office—I gave the prosecutor the key, and went into my little recess—I heard him say "Oh, William, what is this for?"—I turned round, and saw the prosecutor on the ground, and my brother hitting him—he ran to the front window, and called the police—my brother ran way, and I ran home to my mother.

Cross-examined. My mother came to the chambers, and stayed for eight days attending on the prosecutor—the prisoner had had some brandy in the chambers that morning—the hammer had been there before, and was used for different things.

GUILTY on the Second Count. Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-545
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

Related Material

545. WILLIAM DUNCAN (21) , Feloniously cutting and wounding William Martin, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.

WILLIAM MARTIN . I live at 38, Fleet Lane, City, and am a tin plate worker—I was out with Joseph Reeve and Miss Reeve—about 12.40 a.m., on Sunday morning, 4th June, I wished the young woman "Good night!" at the corner of Southwark Street—my brother was with me, about a dozen yards away—the prisoner had been out with us early in the evening, and had left us about three-quarters of an hour before—I felt a blow at my arm as I was wishing "Good night!"—I looked round and saw the prisoner there—I remember nothing till he was in custody—I was bleeding from my nose, mouth, and arm, and was stabbed in the arm—my coat was cut—I gave him in charge.

Cross-examined. There is only a scar left now—early in the evening he was a little the worse for drink—we had all been merry—we parted good friends—we had had no quarrel—Miss Reeve was standing by my side when

he struck me—her brother stood about twelve yards off—it was all done in a second—there has been an offer to pay my doctor's fees and compensation.

JOSEPH REEVE . I live at 1, Moorgan's Lane, Tooley Street, and am a packing case maker—on this Saturday I was standing at the corner of Southwark Street—the prisoner beckoned me to go on—I remained where I was, thinking he might want to speak to my sister—I saw him suddenly run from round the corner up to the prosecutor and stab him—I ran up to them—the prisoner said "I have done it, you may take me"—I said "Done what?"—the prosecutor gets up and says "I am stabbed"—we had a struggle with the prisoner—a policeman came up and we took him.

Cross-examined. We had not been all drinking together—the prisoner was not drunk—he never tried to get away—I did not see any pipe in his hands—he was not smoking.

MART ANNE REEVE . Some time ago I kept company with the prisoner—about a week before this took place, I broke off the engagement—I was wishing the prosecutor good night at the corner of Southwark Street—he came up to us—I did not see him stab the prosecutor, but he fell and got up again, and said he was stabbed—I picked up the knife, shut it up and put it in my pocket, and took it to the station—the blade was open—I don't know if there was blood on it.

Cross-examined. The knife is here—I only found the handle, the policeman found the blade—the blade was broken.

HENRY JARMAN (Policeman M 65). I heard a row and went up to where this affair took place—the prosecutor said "I am stabbed"—the prisoner said "Yes, I stabbed him, and I am sorry for it"—I took him to the station where he said "What did he want to kiss the girl for?"—Miss Reeves gave me this knife (produced)—I found the blade about 2ft. from where this occurred, with blood on it—I saw the wound sewed up.

Cross-examined. The prisoner did not say he was cleaning his pipe out with his knife—he had a pipe—he had been drinking.

DR. EVANS. I am a surgeon—on this night I was called to the station, the prosecutor was suffering from a wound on the left arm, midway between the elbow and the shoulder, about 2 inches long—half an inch deep—the knife produced would be likely to have caused the wound before it was broken.

Cross-examined. The wound is quite well now—I did not attend him after this night—I am the Divisional Surgeon—if a man hit another with his fist, the knife being open, it would cause such a wound as this—it would have made a punctured wound if given so.

Re-examined. There must have been some considerable force to make a wound like that.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. He received a good character. Nine Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-546
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > directed
SentencesNo Punishment > sentence respited

Related Material

546. CHARLES CLAYTON (35), and FRANCIS DUVAL (38) , Stealing 882 yards of silk, of Robert Hall and another; and JANE FIELDER (35), MARY HOLMES (22), and SARAH ALLEN (42) , Feloniously receiving the same; to which CLAYTON** and >DUVAL** PLEADED GUILTY. MESSRS. BESLEY and KELLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Allen.

ROBERT NUTHALL . I am a silk agent, of Mitre Court, Milk Street—

previous to 5th June, I had 982 yards of one description of silk, which would average twelve or thirteen pieces, or an average of 90 yards to each piece—these pieces are some of my silk—I do not know the prisoners.

CHARLES SMALE . I am a silk agent, of 29, Cheapside—on 5th June, at 9.30 in the morning, I was at Mr. Nuthall's warehouse—I saw Duval there, up in the rooms, and Clayton on the stairs—I cannot identify the others—there was a woman down stairs, but I cannot identify her.

ANTHONY MUNGO . I went to Mr. Parker's, a pawnbroker's shop in Houndsditch, on 5th June, and to caution other pawnbrokers—a little after 6 o'clock in the evening, I saw Fielder trying to dispose of this piece of silk—I told her I was a police officer, that there had been a large quantity of it stolen, and asked her to account for it—she said a woman dressed in black gave it to her to pawn; that she was just round the corner—I said "I will go with you anywhere you like, if you will point the woman out to me"—she refused to go—I then took her to the station, where I saw Holmes—I said "Is that the woman that gave you the silk"—she said "No, I never saw that woman in my life before"—she refused to give her address, because it would kill her friends if they knew it, they are so respectable—Fielder, on the way to the Police Court, next morning, said "I will tell all the truth about it, yesterday morning me and my friends was in the city; both of us are unfortunate girls; we met a gentleman and told him we were unfortunate girls, he took us into the warehouse close by the Bank, and gave us that silk"—I asked how much silk—she said "Only the pieces which you have got; he gave us each a piece, and I wanted to raise a little money, and I tried to pawn it"—she meant Holmes as her friend, the other unfortunate.

Fielder. I didn't say they took us to a warehouse; I said I met two gentlemen. Witness. I think it was two gentlemen.

AMOS DUDMAN (City Policeman). At 6 o'clock in the evening of 5th June, I called at Mr. Parker's, a pawnbroker's, in Aldersgate—I found Holmes there, with this silk—I asked her where she got it; she said her sister gave it to her—I asked her where her sister lived; she said she could not tell me—I took her to the station; I found 13s., 1 1/2 d. on her, and this silk—she would not tell them her address.

CHARLES AUGUSTUS FRYATT . I am a pawnbroker, of 16, Whitechapel Road—I produce 16 yards of silk, pawned by Fielder on 5th June, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, for 10s., in the name of Jackson—I asked her what it was when I took it in—I took it for the lining of muffs—I did not ask her where she got it—I thought she was a dressmaker.

THOMAS BUCKMAN . I am an assistant to Mr. Jackland, pawnbroker, 81, Whitechapel Road—I produce a parcel of silk, 14 yards, pledged on 5th June, about tea time, by Holmes, for 7s., in the name of "Holmes, 21, New Road"—I asked her what it was for, she said "Adress."

WILLIAM IVES . I am an assistant to Mr. Telford, a pawnbroker, of 88, Whitechapel Road—I produce 14 yards of silk, pledged on 5th June, by Holmes, for 11s., in the name of "Mary Holmes, Abchurch Lane"—I don't recollect whether anything was said when she pledged it.

Holmes. I only got 7s.; you said it was 11s., Witness. It was 11s.,

CHARLES BATTERSBY . I am assistant to Mr. Upsall, Whitechapel Road, pawnbroker—I produce about 15 yards of silk, pledged by Fielder, in the name of "Jackson, 9, Union Street," about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 5th June, for 12s.,

JAMBS BELCHAM . I am assistant to Mr. Cotton, pawnbroker, 73, Whitechapel

Road—I produce 11 yards of silk, pawned on 5th June, by Fielder, for 7s., in the name of "Ann Jackson, 8, John Street"—nothing passed when I took in the silk.

JAMES PRICE (Police Constable K 451). On Monday afternoon, 21st June, I was called to Mr. Mace's shop, a pawnbroker—I found Allen there; she had 10 yards of silk—I asked her where she got it; she said she bought it in the Wick Road, Shad well, and gave 1l. for it.

MR. NUTHALL (re-called). I have looked at all these different parcels of silk—they are mine; I recognize them from the peculiar paper they are wrapped in.

JAMES GEORGE SANDERS . I live at 9, Garden Street, Stepney Green—I have a room on the first floor front; it is a four-roomed house—I know all the prisoners by sight, except Allen—they were all living together in the same house as me—Clayton lived there seven weeks last Saturday, and Duval about six weeks—Duval left about a fortnight before this affair—the last time I saw the women in the house was a week after Whitsun-Sunday.

Fielder. He is making a mistake; we had only been in the house a fortnight before we was taken? Witness. They were there part of the time I was living there—Clayton and Holmes lived there together, and Duval and Holmes came in the same night I moved in.

WILLIAM SMITH . I received some keys taken from Fielder, in her presence—one is a street-door key, and the other the key of the parlour of No. 9, Garden Street, where Sanders came from—I went there and opened the doors, not with the keys—I went up stairs, and found Clayton in bed in the back room—I have no keys taken from Holmes.

MR. M. WILLIAMS submitted that there was no cases against Allen, in which THE COURT concurred.



JAMES KEMP , a warder, stated that Duval had undergone several sentences, which Duval denied, except one, when he was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude. JOHN LOCKYER, another warder, proved several convictions against Clayton, who stated that for the last two years and a half, since his return from Penal Servitude, he had lived honestly, and Duval stated that he had brought Clayton into the mess.— Judgment respited.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-547
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

Related Material

547. ELIZABETH CLIFFORD** (18), and MARY ANNE WALSH** (18) , Stealing four woollen jackets, of Samuel Lewis, to which WALSH> PLEADED GUILTY , and also to having been convicted in November, 1870.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN DAVID ROBERTS . I am a shopman to Samuel Lewis, of 11, Holborn Bare—on Wednesday evening, 1st July, I went to the shop door—I took a woollen jacket from the prisoners—three from Walsh, and one from Clifford—I had seen them safe at 3.50—their value is about 2s., each.

GEORGE GREIG (City Policeman 323). I took Walsh in custody.

WILLIAM BRADEN (Policeman G 293). I took Clifford—on the way to the station she said "I shall have seven years this time."

Cliffords statement before the Magistrate: "The jacket was given to me by Walsh. I was in liquor."

WILLIAM BRADEN (re-examined). She was quite sensible, and as sober as I am now.


She was further charged with having been convicted at Clerkenwell, in June, 1869, to which she

PLEADED GUILTY.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-548
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

548. JOHN SULLIVAN (24) , Bobbery, upon Redmund Prenderville, and stealing one purse, and 4l. 5s., 6d., his property.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

REDMUND PRENDERVILLE . I am a costermonger, of 21, Union Court, Holborn—on Tuesday night, 13th June, at 11 o'clock, I was on my way home—I had four half-sovereigns, one sovereign, and one Australian sovereign—I had been in the Angel public-house, drinking—I left about 10.30—I saw the prisoner before going into the public-house—he came in afterwards—he followed me out—he walked with me, conversing all the way from the public-house—he suddenly knocked me down, near Moses & Sons, in Holborn—it was very wet, and there was not a soul near—he said "Turn down this street, it will be the shortest way home"—he saw me pull out a shilling from a leather bag—he put his hand on my neck, and turned me over, and ran away, taking my purse, which was next to my shirt—I got up—my coat is spoilt with the mud—I went the next day to the station, and described him—I have no doubt he is the man.

Cross-examined. Q. What time did you go to this public-house? A. As near as possible 10.30—I did not go in at 7.30 or 8 o'clock—I was there before 10 o'clock, and left it before 11 o'clock—I went there about 9.30—I stayed, I suppose, about half an hour, or a little more—I went in a cab with three men, and a man named General McCarthy—I did not know the others, but I came to know the name of one of them afterwards—I did not tumble out of the cab—I saw two girls in the public-house—McCarthy represented one of them to fee his wife—James O'Hea was in the cab—I never saw him before that day—he was a councilor—I had had a drop—I didn't offer anyone 40l., in the public-house, to marry my daughter—I have no daughter—I don't know the men I was with at all, except O'Hea.

EDWARD FISHER (Detective Officer E). On the morning of 16th June, I sent the prosecutor into the Angel public-house, near St. Giles' Church, to see if he could see anyone there that he knew—he came out again, and told me the man who had robbed him was standing at the bar—I went inside then, and he pointed the prisoner out to me, and said "That is the man who robbed me on the night of the 13th"—I said to the prisoner "Upon that charge I shall have to take you in custody"—he said "I know nothing about it; I never saw the man before."

Cross-examined. I did not hear him say "The old man has made a mistake"—he has been out on bail.

HARRIET FRANKLIN . I assist my sister—she keeps the Angel public-house, High Street, Bloomsbury—I remember the prisoner being at my house—I saw the prosecutor and the last witness at my place on 16th June—I remember them both coming in, and before they did so, he said to a friend of his, "You see if this man won't charge me with robbing him."

Cross-examined. I was not in the house on the night of the robbery—I never saw the prisoner before this 16th.

CATHERINE NOBLE . I keep the Angel public-house—the prosecutor came to my house on 13th June, with two other men—I don't know him.

Cross-examined. The prosecutor came as near as possible at 8 o'clock—

I am quite sure about the time—my husband came in to light the gas—there were a few in the bar—the prosecutor had been drinking—he changed a half-sovereign at my house for a pot of beer—the men with him had the beer.

Re-examined. He had been there an hour or two—he was very talkative—I did not hear him say anything about his daughter.

Witnesses for the Defence.

ELLEN CRONEY . I am a costermonger, of 27, Church Lane—on Tuesday night, 13th June, I was at the Angel public-house, at 6.30, with two girls, Brown and Sullivan—I saw the prosecutor there—I did not know him before—he was drunk—I left the place at 8 o'clock—I heard him say he would* give 40l. to anyone who would marry his daughter.

Cross-examined. Nobody closed with the offer.

ELLEN BROWN . I am a costermonger, of 3, Frederick's Court, St. Giles'—on this date I was with Sullivan and Croney, outside the Angel—I know a man named O'Hea—he asked me into the place—I saw the prosecutor there, offering 40l. to marry his daughter—he was drunk—I left at 8 o'clock; I left him behind, with McCarthy and O'Hea—I did not see the prisoner there that night.

Cross-examined. The landlady was present.

ANNIE SULLIVAN . I am a costermonger, of Carrier Court, St. Giles'—I was at the Angel on the 13th, with Brown and Croney—we passed by—O'Hea called me in with them, to have something to drink—I heard the prosecutor offer 40l. to marry his daughter—he was drunk—McCarthy and his wife were there—I did not see the prisoner there till 11 o'clock that night—I am the prisoner's cousin—he was in bed when I saw him that night—he lives at 27, Church Lane—I went there for matches—I could not see my way, and had no money at the time.

Cross-examined. I never went there before to get matches—it may be 50 yards from my place—I know all the people there—I asked for my aunt when I went there—the prisoner said "There's none on the mantelpiece; take them out of my waistcoat pocket"—I know the time, by their clock—I stayed there about two minutes and a half—it was exactly 10.40—I never mentioned anything about the time—I know McCarthy and O'Hea well—McCarthy lives in my street; O'Hea lives on the Dials—I don't know what time they got home on this night.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-549
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

549. ROBERT BARTLETT (17), and EDMUND BURLING (17) , Robbery on Davis Fitzgerald, and stealing from him 3s., 10d. his property. MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. RIBTON and PEARS the Defence.

DAVID FITZGERALD . I live at 10, Red Lion Court, and am a boot maker—at 12.15 I was standing at the corner of Commercial Street, Spitalfields, talking to a young woman—both prisoners came up and insulted me, using awful language, and said "Go on you b——long policeman" and Burling gave me a punch—I had two or three wrestles with him—one of his mates gave me a leg and chucked me down, and while on the ground he had a white handled knife in his hand—I did not see him stab me, but I could swear he was the man—there was one out of the four of his companions said "Get out your knife and stick it into the long policeman"—while on the ground they kept kicking me—I felt Burling put his hand into my pocket—when I got up a gentleman said "You will find you are stabbed"—I said "I don't think I am"—he said "Well, you look"—I know the

prisoners quite well—I recognized them that night—I saw Burling again the following morning—I should have given him in charge, only he got away too quick for me—I gave him in custody on the following Thursday night, in Shoreditch—he said "This is a nice thing you have got up for me"—I gave Bartlett in custody the morning after I was stabbed—I pointed him out to a constable in Pearl Street—he said "I was only talking to a prostitute."

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. It was dark when this happened—I was coming home—I have not been in the police force—I always go with them when I have done work—for no purpose much—when I am not making shoes, I am with the police after I have done work—I speak to both of these men being there on this night—the young woman is not here, she is frightened to come—she is not particularly a friend of mine—when I saw Burling the next day, I could not see a policeman, he came up to me and said "How did you like that stab," I have not mentioned this before—I had been looking for them a good time before I found them.

RICHARD GUTTERIDGE (Policeman H 161). Bartlett was pointed out to me by the prosecutor in Pearl Street—he ran away as I was going towards him—he ran into a beer-house and got behind the door—I told him what I wanted him for—he said it was not him—he said at the station "She was only a prostitute the prosecutor was with."

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. The little boys do not generally run away from me when they see me—sometimes they do—when they have been playing at pitch-and-toss they run away.

STEPHEN THOMAS (Policeman H 194). The prosecutor pointed out Burling to me in High Street, Shoreditch—I took him in custody—the prosecutor charged him with stabbing and robbing him; he said "I don't know nothing at all about it; a nice thing you've got up for me."

Burling's statement before the Magistrate. "On this evening he was talking to a woman, a prostitute, and I spoke to her, and she told me to go on, or she would cut my eye open; and I shoved her, and we fought fair in the street."


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-550
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown

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550. ROBERT BARTLETT and EDMUND BURLING were again indicted for unlawfully wounding David Fitzgerald— The evidence before given teas repeated

WILLIAM NEALE . I am an assistant to Dr. Phillips, I saw the prosecutor on 1st June, at the police-station—I found him bleeding from a stabbed wound in the left side, an inch and a half deep, slanting down—it was slightly diverted in an upward direction, inclining slightly to the vertebraelig—a wound like that would be caused by a penknife with a long blade—it is not likely to prove serious—had it been pushed in a different direction it might have been very serious.

BURLING— GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment.


NEW COURT.—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, July 13th, 14th, and 15th.

Before Mr. Baron Channell

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-551
VerdictGuilty > pleaded part guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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551. JAMES PAYNE MORGAN (25), Feloniously attempting to discharge a pistol at Herbert Chatteris, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

He PLEADED GUILTY to a common assault ; and MR. STRAIGHT, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence upon the felony.To enter into his own recognizances to appear and receive judgment when called upon.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-552
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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552. HANNAH NEWINGTON, alias FLORA DAVEY (37) , Feloniously killing and slaying Frederick Graves Moon.

MESSRS. GIFFARD, Q.C., POLAND, and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SERJEANT PARRY and MR. EDWARD JAMES the Defence.

CHARLES ROWE (Policeman X 264). On 24th May, I was on duty in Newton Road, Westbourne Grove, between 10.30 and 10.45—as I passed No. 23, I saw some people run out at the door—I saw Mary Ann Hale with a letter in her hand—I stopped her and spoke to her—she made a communication to me, and I continued on my beat—about 12 o'clock, Mr. R. Phillips, senior, made a communication to me, and shortly afterwards I met Fewtrell, of the X Division, and made to him the communication Mr. Phillips had made to me, and we both went to 23, Newton Road—Fewtrell went into the house, and I went into the police-station for the inspector.

WILLIAM FEWTRELL (Policeman X 41). On the morning of 25th May, about 12.30, I was in Westbourne Park—Rowe had made a communication to me about 12.15 that night, and I went with him to 23, Newton Road—I was met at the kitchen door by Mr. Phillips, senior, who said something to me, and I followed him up stairs into the dining-room, where I saw the deceased lying near the fire-place; a round table, with several bottles on it, was in the room; a bowl of bloody water was on the floor by the body; there were two chairs at the table, as if people had been sitting there; no white cloth was on the table, and I am not sure there was any cloth—the drawing-room is on the same floor, just opposite, separated by a small hall—I found the prisoner sitting on the sofa behind the door, in the act of pulling off her jacket, the inside of which was lined with white, and was saturated with blood—the upper part of her clothing under the jacket was saturated with blood, and her hair was very much disarranged—Mr. Phillips, jun., was in the room with her—I said to her "You must consider yourself in my custody; you will have to go to the police-station"—she made no reply, but Mr. Phillips, jun., said "Policeman, you had better leave the room"—I said "I must see that the room is secure before I leave"—Mr. Phillips said "I will be answerable for her"—she sat on a sofa behind the door during that conversation—I went outside the door, and it was closed after me—Mr. Phillips, sen., was standing in the hall—I went with him into the dining-room again, and found this knife in the fender, with a small trifle of blood on the side of the blade—I took charge of it—shortly afterwards a person came to the house, who gave the name of Captain Davey—Sergeant Woonton afterwards came—the fender was oval, rather enclosing the grate, and the knife was in it, but I could not see it till I got close to the fire-place—no fire was in the grate—there was a basket on the table with some knives in it—they were all in the basket except this one—I noticed it on the table when I first went into the room.

Cross-examined by MR. SIRJEANT PARRY. When I went there at 12.15, or 12.20, the knife basket was standing nearly at the edge of the table, on the right hand side of the arm chair (marking the place on a plan)—there were no knives loose on the table—there were five or six wine bottles, a champagne bottle, a brandy bottle, a claret bottle, two decanters, and another small bottle—they were pint decanters, I think—there were also biscuits in a glass dish, and three lights—I did not notice any dessert knives on the table—there was no fruit or dessert, or fruit dishes—the table was rather towards the back window, as if it had been pushed—the

furniture was very little disarranged—the arm chair was near the fire-place, with its back to the fire-place—I did not notice that the coal scuttle had been overturned—the couch was at the back of the door, on the opposite side of the table—the prisoner was in a state of great excitement, nearly a maddened state; she was crying out in an excited state, a very sad state—I did not hear her ask to be allowed to see the body; she may have, but she did not in my presence—she did go in to see the body, but I never heard her ask to go.

COURT. You see two chairs on this plan put to the table? A. Yes, the table appeared to have been removed nearer to the back window than the middle of the room, but the chairs were close to the table.

ADELAIDE MATTHEWS . I was parlour maid to the prisoner sixteen months, at 23, Newton Road—I knew her as Mrs. Davey—I knew the deceased gentleman, Mr. Moon; he was in the habit of coming there two or three times a week, and used to dine there—on Wednesday, 24th May, he came about 5 o'clock—I let him in, the prisoner was then in the billiard room—he went either into the drawing or dining room—he afterwards went into the billiard room, and I took a bottle of champagne there, by Mrs. Davey's order—they dined about 7 o'clock, and I waited at table, very little of the champagne was drank in the billiard room, and I took the bottle into the dining room—Mr. Moon walked round the garden before dinner—besides the champagne, this pint decanter of sherry was on the dinner table—very little of it has been taken out—there was also this claret bottle, I do not know whether it was full—the claret bottle was in the side board drawer—I do not know anything about how it came on the table—I was the only attendant who waited on them—I placed the brandy bottle on the table after the dinner was cleared, it was not on the table at dinner time at all—Mrs. Davey drank a small quantity of ale at dinner—I brought up no other drink after dinner, but I placed the sherry bottle and the champagne on the table after dinner, and Miss Pook brought up a bottle of Burgundy—dinner was over about 8.30, and I cleared away the things; the knife basket was then on the shelf, which is a raised part of the sideboard—I do not mean a drawer, but the part upon which things go—the sideboard consists of two pedestals, and there is a shelf under the top of the sideboard, which is visible, open to the eye—there was a plate basket by the side of the knife basket, I had put them there, they were always kept there—the poultry carver was in the basket, it had not been used during dinner—after the things had been cleared, Miss Dulin and Miss Pook were sent for from the billiard room—they were on a visit to Mrs. Davey—they were sent for to dessert, or to wine after dinner—I brought up this bottle of olives (produced) while the ladies were there—about 9.30 o'clock, Mr. George Phillips, jun., came, I opened the door and showed him into the drawing-room—I went into the dining-room to announce him, Mr. Moon was then sitting in the same place he occupied at dinner, on a chair with hte back to the door, facing the window—the prisoner was sitting in an easy chair between the fire place act the window—I thought she looked as if she had been crying; she told me to show Mr. Phillips into the drawing-room, and then went into the drawing room to see him—she was only there a few minutes, and then he went away—a little more than half an hour after, I heard the dining-room bell ring very loud, and then the call bell at the top of the house, in the servant's bedroom—it is a very small house, only two storeys—I then heard Mrs. Davey scream "Run for a doctor"—I rushed out of the house with

Miss Dulin to Mr. Phillips, he was out, and I went on to Mr. Phillips, sen.—I then went back to the house, and found Mr. Phillips, jun., already there—directly I got in, Mr. Phillips called for the brandy, and I went into the dining-room and noticed that the knife basket was on the edge of the table nearest to the sideboard.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. During the sixteen months I have been in the prisoner's service I knew Mr. Moon as coming to visit her two or three times a week, but not so often at first as lately—during her illness he came oftener than before—she had been seriously ill, and only got out of bed, I think, on the Sunday week before—Mr. Phillips says it was the Sunday before; whether I am right or not, I am not positive—she had been ill altogether about seven weeks—she was in bed about four weeks before the Sunday when she got up, but she had been up a time or two—she was so ill as to require rest for so long a time—they used to dine much in the same fashion, having their wine and champagne—they always treated each other affectionately; she was kind and affectionate to him, and he to her—the young ladies had been visiting there about a week—Mr. Moon enjoyed their society—they used to play on the piano to him—the prisoner used to sing before her illness—their society was pleasant to Mr. Moon—they were lively and agreeable—the prisoner had been out riding that day, and she left a message with Mrs. Toynbee for Mr. Moon if he called—Mr. Moon called the prisoner Flo, she called him Fred, and they always seemed very much attached to each other—when Mr. Moon was in the garden on this day, I noticed he appeared despondent and depressed—he was only there a short time, looking at the flowers—I did not go into the room when the prisoner returned from seeing Mr. Phillips—they dined alone—I do not think Mr. Moon was expected to dinner that day—there was an arrangement for the prisoner and the two young ladies and Mrs. Toynbee to dine together, but when Mr. Moon came, that waft altered, and extra dinner ordered—there was some broiled fowl for dinner, but the poultry knife was not used for that—I am certain of that, because I always take the dirty knives down stairs when I clear the dinner—I have a separate basket for the purpose, and if it had been used I should have taken it away—I remember the young ladies going in after dinner—I believe that was done for the purpose of amusing Mr. Moon, and keeping up his spirits—I noticed he was gloomy, but when the young ladies went in he appeared in better spirits, and laughed and joked with them—I do not know of his throwing a bottle into the lap of one of them as a joke, but he was joking when I took the olive bottle into the room—that was a little before 9 o'clock, I left the young ladies in the room, they remained there some little time, but they were playing the piano in the drawing-room when Mr. Phillips came—the drawing and dining-rooms are on the same floor—there is a passage between them—the prisoner seemed to have been crying when I announced Mr. Phillips, her eyes looked very red, but I do not know whether she had sent for him—I showed him into the drawing-room where the ladies were—I do not know whether they then left the drawing room, and went to the billiard-room—I went to announce him to the prisoner—Mr. Moon remained in the dining-room when the young ladies went into the drawing-room—the drawing-room door was open, but the dining-room door was shut—they might have been playing to amuse themselves then—after I heard the cry, she was crying out to send for a doctor, and wringing her hands—she appeared in a state of very great distress—almost everybody in the house was sent for a doctor, and three or

four came eventually—Mr. Phillips came first—I saw the prisoner lying on the floor, and doing everything she could to save Mr. Moon.

MART ANN HALE . I had been same weeks in the prisoner's service as housemaid, and on 24th May, between 9.30 and 10 o'clock at night, I was in the kitchen, which is immediately below the dining-room—I thought I heard a fall—I heard screams a few minutes afterwards, perhaps five or ten minutes—it did not seem instantly after—I was reading the paper at the time, and when I heard the screams I got up, went into the dining-room, found the door open, and saw Mr. Moon lying on the floor by the fire-place, with his head towards the sofa, very near the coal scuttle, which was in its usual position—Mrs. Davey was kneeling down by his side trying to help him, and to undo his clothes—she said "Try and save him"—she asked me to unfasten his things, and I said I could not—I saw blood at that time by the side of the body—there was no hearth rug on the carpet—Mr. Moon was lying on the carpet—you get from the kitchen to the dining-room, up six or seven stairs—the kitchen door was open and the dining-room door—I heard no struggling or loud talking before the fall, or anything to attract my attention.

Cross-examined by MR. EDWARD JAMES. I had been in Mrs. Davey's service about eight weeks; it was not my duty, as housemaid, to go into the sitting-room at dinner—I have not seen Mrs. Davey and Mr. Moon dining together—I don't recollect ringing the call-bell, which communicates with the servant's bedroom—Miss Pook was down stairs in the room adjoining, and she could have rung it—the billiard-room adjoins the kitchen, and the call-bell is pulled from outside the kitchen door—I do not know whether she came out and rang it—I did not notice persons moving about up stairs when I was in the kitchen—there was a carpet in the dining-room, and I should not hear footsteps, whether they moved slowly or quickly across the room, nor could I hear talking—I should not hear whether the prisoner was crying or speaking—that is the case always when I am in the kitchen—when I went up stairs the prisoner was kneeling near the body—she appeared in very great grief; almost overwhelmed with grief—I was very much excited—my attention was directed to Mr. Moon and the prisoner—I did not notice the scuttle, or whether there was coal on the floor or not; but I know it was in the room—I did not see it upset, and I did not see it standing upright.

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. When I went into the room, Mr. Moon's head was towards the sofa, near where the scuttle was ordinarily kept, but I did not notice where the scuttle was—I had filled it three or four days before—I usually filled the scuttle, but there was no fire in the room then—I went right into the room, and up to the body, but I did not notice the scuttle, and can't tell you whether it was upset—in the ordinary course of things the scuttle stands between the fender and the sofa—I went straight towards Mr. Moon—that would bring me between the couch and the table, with my face towards the fire-place, so that the coal scuttle, if I looked, would be close under me, but I did not see any signs of its being upset—I did not notice it—if the prisoner had called me from the dining-room, with both doors open, I should not bear her, unless she called very loud—I might hear her if she was standing at the room door and I was sitting in the kitchen—I have never had the experiment tried, therefore I can't say—the bell from the dining-room rings into the passage.

CATHERINB DULIN . I am the daughter of Madame Catherine Dulin, of 2,

Burlington Street—Miss Laura Pook is my cousin—on 24th May we were staying with Mrs. Davey; that is, we were taking our meals at her house and sleeping at Mrs. Toynbee's, as there was no room at the prisoner's house for us to sleep—we were, I believe, to have dined with the prisoner on Wednesday, 24th May, but Mr. Moon arrived in the afternoon—I and Miss Pook were at home at that time—we had been for a ride on horseback with the prisoner—we did not dine with the prisoner and Mr. Moon, but about 8.30 we went into the dining-room where they were—we were sent for—Miss Pook then, I believe, went down and fetched a bottle of Burgundy—I don't know whether it was put into the decanter—I had some claret—I remained in the room about half an hour—Mr. Moon was sitting in a chair opposite the window during that time, and the prisoner was by the side of the window—Miss Pook sat at the table, we were engaged in conversation—Mr. Moon and the prisoner appeared on good terms—I offered to play the piano, and Miss Pook and I crossed into the drawing-room, and I played—Miss Pook remained with me—we left the drawing-room door open—I did not close the dining-room door, but I came out first—I continued playing till Mr. Phillips came—he came into the drawing-room—the prisoner came to him there, and Miss Pook and I left them there, and went down stairs to the billiard-room, where we remained about a quarter of an hour—I then went up stairs with Mrs. Toynbee to the dressing-room, with some linen—that room ia one floor above the dining-room, over it—in about five minutes I heard a woman's scream—that was about 9 o'clock, as near as I can remember—the scream was repeated—I had heard no loud talking or scuffling before that—I ran down stairs into the dining-room—the door was open—it had been shut when I went up, and I observed no loud talking or quarrelling—when I got into the dining-room I saw Mr. Moon lying on the floor, and the prisoner on her knees, bending over him—she said "Fetch a doctor I fetch a doctor!" several times—I went out to fetch one, and was absent about twenty minutes—I rushed immediately from the room, so that I was not long there—when I came back I found Mrs. Davey in the drawing-room—I don't remember whether she was sitting down—she said "Oh save him, save him! pray for him, pray for him! I fear I did it!"—that was all repeated several times—she was in a very agitated state—the dining-room door was shut at that time—I only remained a minute or two with her—I then went down stairs, and saw nothing more of her till she was taken to the station.

Cross-examined by MR. EDWARD JAMES. I knew her as Mrs. Davey for some four years—I had seen Mr. Moon four years ago, but did not know him—I saw him at my mother's house, where Mrs. Davey lived at that time, and he called—I have known him so as to see him in the prisoner's society about twelve months—I have seen them frequently during that time—she was particularly kind and affectionate in her manner to him—I have heard him swear at her twice—I observed sometimes that Mr. Moon was depressed in his manner, and sometimes in rather excited spirits—he was very changeable, but that variation of spirits did not eaten my attention more than ordinarily that day—Miss Pook and I went into the room after dinner for dessert, and Mr. Moon playfully threw a bottle, or a decanter, I don't know which, into my cousin's lap—he was sitting at the table at the time he did it, and she was sitting on the floor—there was no wine in it—during the whole time I was in the room I saw no sign of ill-feeling on the prisoner's part towards him—from a quarter to three quarters of an hour elapsed

between the time I left the sitting-room with Miss Pook, and my hearing the scream, I am not certain—I did not hear a fall when I was up stairs—I was talking to Mrs. Toynbee, and attending to her—I don't think I should have heard anybody walking about in the sitting-room, or persons talking—when I went into the dining-room I stopped a very short time, but the prisoner appeared very much overwhelmed with grief—I did not know for certain what was the matter with Mr. Moon, but I saw blood on his trowsers—she appeared almost mad with grief, and was screaming and sobbing in the most dreadful manner—she said several times "Fetch a doctor," and I went for one—she was in the same excited state when I returned, and appeared almost mad with grief—I was very excited and frightened—when she said "I fear I did it" she did not use the word "struggle"—I have said that she was madly excited—she was continuing to sigh and sob when I came back—it was in the intervals of her screaming that she said "I fear I did it"—it did not appear to me that she was apparently unconscious of how it had occurred, from what she said to me.

Q. Was not the question asked you before the Coroner, "Can you say for certain whether the word 'struggle' was used or not?"and did you not reply "No, I can't say for certain?"A. That was my answer—I don't remember the word "struggle" being used by the prisoner, I can't be positive—I can't be certain that she did not say "I fear I did it in the struggle."

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I believe the word struggle was not used—I don't remember who put the question to me before the Coroner—I also knew the prisoner as Mrs. Newington—that and Davey were the only two names I knew her by—I was on terms of great intimacy with her—I am not related to her—I used to call her aunty—on the two occasions when Mr. Moon swore at her she did not quarrel with him, but he got in a passion and swore at her—that is within twelve months—I don't remember what it was about—I can't tell you the subject of complaint—I only remember his swearing at her—it was at his chambers, 40, St. James' Street—I was lunching there with Mrs. Davey, and it was in the course of lunch—I do recollect what he said, but I would rather not say—he called her names—it was a term of speech accompanied by an oath—she merely told him not to repeat it—I can't remember her words—no one else was there besides me and Mrs. Davey—she appeared very annoyed—the other occasion was at Newton Road, some months afterwards—I think it was in the afternoon—it was a quarrel, but I don't remember what it was about—it arose through some kind of misunderstanding, I believe—the one appeared to be a repetition of the other, but it was not so violent—what he said was rather offensive, and I would rather not repeat it—I don't recollect what she said, but she was not in a temper, she did not get into a passion.

COURT. Q. When you heard the scream, can you form any opinion where it came from, from the passage or the dining-room? A. I cannot—she said twice "I fear I did it!"—that was in the same room and at the same time—"I fear I did it! I fear I did it!"—she did not use the word "struggle" on either occasion, according to my belief.

FLORA POOK . I am a cousin of the last witness—I was staying with her at the prisoner's house, on 24th May—I also had been out riding with Mrs. Davey in the course of the afternoon—I remember Mr. Moon coming that evening—we did not dine with them, we had tea in the billiard-room, and they dined together about 7 o'clock, I should think, but I am not sure—

after dinner was over, we went in to have some dessert—I don't know the time—after we had been in the dining-room a short time, we were joined by Mrs. Toynbee—the white cloth had been taken off the table when we went in—there were some bottles on the table, but I did not notice what—I went down and fetched a bottle of Burgundy at Mrs. Davey's request—the servant gave it to me, and I brought it up—I don't know whether it was decanted into the claret jug—I had some claret—we remained there about half an hour, and then Miss Dulin and I went into the drawing-room, and Miss Dulin played on the piano—Mr. Phillips then came in, and Mrs. Davey came in to see him—we then went down to the billiard-room, and Mrs. Toynbee and Miss Dulin afterwards went up to the dressing-room—I remained in the billiard-room—I did not hear a ring at the bell, but I heard a scream about a quarter of an hour after they went up stairs—I did not pull the call-bell—I went up stairs to the dining-room—the billiard-room is under the dining-room—I heard nothing before the scream—the dining-room door was open, and I saw Mr. Moon lying by the fire-place, and the prisoner kneeling down, leaning over him—I am not sure, but I think the servant, Mary Hale, was also in the room—the prisoner said "Oh, Fred., speak to me," addressing the body—she then said to me "Run for a doctor"—I ran out of the house, and seeing that Mrs. Toynbee, my cousin, and the servants were running down the road, I came back again—I did not then know what was the matter with Mr. Moon—I went back to the dining-room—Mrs. Davey was still there—I think she was in the same position—the servant said to me "Oh, Miss, fetch a doctor," and I went away again, down the Newton Road, till I met Mrs. Toynbee and returned with her—we then went into the dining-room again—Mrs. Davey was there, and I think she was sprinkling water on Mr. Moon's face—the doctor then came—we went into the drawing-room—Mr. Davey was there, and my cousin—Mrs. Davey said "Oh save him! pray for him! I fear I did it!" she repeated that twice; she was in a state of considerable agitation—I did not notice the knife basket on the table or the sideboard when I left the dining-room, but it was kept on the sideboard—when I returned, after the scream, I saw it was on the table.

Cross-examined by MR. E. JAMES. I had been living with my aunt, Mrs. Dulin, in Burlington Street—there was small-pox in the house, and Mrs. Davey took charge of me and my cousin—I had seen Mr. Moon with the prisoner before that day—she always appeared to be on affectionate terms with him—that answer applies to 24th May—I did not see the slightest quarrel, or approach to a quarrel, on her part that afternoon—I was in the billiard-room just before the scream, and heard no fall, or anything, before that—there would be no possibility of hearing footsteps and talking in the carpeted room when I was in the billiard-room—I was reading—I don't know whether it is a Turkey carpet—it was a thick carpet—I saw the prisoner before she went into the room, she appeared very much excited and overwhelmed with grief—she was sobbing and crying, and when returned from the street she had gone into the drawing-room—she appeared very much excited, she was crying and seemed very agonized—that appeared to be sincere—it appeared to be evinced really and truly, and when she said "Pray for him! save him!"she said it as if she was attached to him—from real feeling.

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. This illness, small-pox, was that week—I had been there about a week—I had been there before, on a visit—I was very friendly with her—I never heard them quarrelling—I have often been

there when she has been with Mr. Moon—he has called and gone away, and he has dined there—I have dined with him—I have seen him there a dozen times—I first saw him between November and May—I have seen Captain Davey there.

ANN MARSDEN TOYNBEE . I have known the prisoner twelve years, more or less—I was present on 24th May, when Mr. Moon came—I did not see them much together that evening—I have seen them often together—they seemed very fond of each other—I have known quarrels between them—I don't recollect exactly the last before 24th May, but within a few months—he then used violent language to her—I don't know what they were quarrelling about—I never took any notice, it was so trifling an occurrence—on one occasion I heard them quarrel because she was not in to lunch in time—she kept him waiting, and I heard him quarrel with her about her daughter—I know her daughter; she visited at No. 23—the latest quarrel I heard before 24th May, was about her daughter—it was a violent quarrel—Mr. Moon was angry with Mrs. Davey, and used abusive language—she cried about it, and was upset—she was not violent, she did not use any language, but she was annoyed—I have been very intimate with her—I have never been in her service—I have not passed as her servant, only as her friend—I have not passed as her maid.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Mr. Moon has known her the whole of the twelve years that I have known her—they have been affectionate during the whole of those twelve years—it may have been two or three months before 24th May that I heard Mr. Moon use irritating language—I have never Been him throw anything at her—I heard him apologize for having thrown a bottle at her; I came soon after it was done, and saw a broken decanter in the room, a small one like this, similar in size, but not so good—he said he was very sorry for what he had done, and hoped she would overlook it—this was four months before 24th May—I saw that the decanter was broken, and that the wine was spilt—the fragments were on the floor, and the sherry had splashed on the clock, which was on the mantelpiece—from what I saw, I could judge that a bottle had been thrown and wine splashed out of it—she had been out riding on this afternoon, as it was not a certainty that Mr. Moon would come—she said if he came I was to see him, and she left a message with me to tell him that she would not be long—I have independent means of my own, about 190l. a year, under my father's will—I have been on friendly terms with the prisoner and Mr. Moon—I stayed with them, and was treated by them as an equal—when I first went into the room, Mr. Moon appeared rather depressed—the prisoner did everything she could to rally his spirits, and put him into a good humor, and for that purpose the young ladies were asked to play and sing—it is an eight-roomed house, very small, and the room where this tragic incident occurred is very small—the ladies were in the habit of playing at billiards, as well as Mr. Moon—I was not in the billiard-room when the champagne was ordered—I did not see them in the billiard-room—I followed the young ladies ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after they went in to dessert—I had a glass of claret—Mr. Moon and the prisoner appeared on very friendly and affectionate terms—I saw the prisoner coming into the dining-room about 9.30, but did not notice her much—I remember this knife basket—I remember a bottle of olives being brought in, and a two-pronged fork was taken out of the knife basket for the purpose of lifting the cork of the bottle and taking the olives out—I

think it was a poultry carving fork—I don't remember taking the knife out at the same time—the prisoner was going to Homburg next day, with the sanction of Mr. Moon, and at his expense—that was generally understood in the house, and it was mentioned in Mr. Moon's presence—she said during dessert, "Oh don't let us be melancholy the last day we shall be together," and she tried to do everything to rally him, and make him in good spirits—a courier had been engaged to meet her—I don't know whether Mr. Moon was to meet her at Homburg after a short time—when I first went into the room he was just saying that it was the anniversary of his mother's death—I was examined by Mr. Humphreys, the attorney, before the Coroner—as far as I know, in regard to money matters, Mr. Moon always behaved very kindly towards the prisoner, except on one particular occasion, and she to him—I heard the scream; I was then up stairs in the bed-room, with Miss Dulin—she was helping me in some little domestic matters—I confirm the statement of all the witnesses" that the prisoner appeared to be in a paroxysm of grief and distress—when Mr. Phillips came, she went to the drawing-room—he was sent for that night, and came about 9.30—several persons were sent for a doctor—at the time the prisoner said "Save him! pray for him!"Mr. Moon was on the dining-room floor—she was trying to disentangle his neckcloth while he was on the floor—I saw water brought, and I sprinkled him, at her instance—she appeared to be in dreadful grief—there is a Turkey carpet on the dining-room floor.

COURT. Q. Was there any oil cloth? A. I don't remember—it was a very small room, and I think the carpet was made for it.

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I call it a Turkey carpet—there may be different styles—I never knew a Turkey carpet made in England—Mr. Moon has visited the prisoner for twelve years—I am not prepared to state what the intimacy was that existed during the whole time—I have been living with the prisoner, except when I was away on some visits—I first knew them living together as husband and wife, about a year ago—he gave her 200l. on the Monday before this happened on Wednesday—I know that because I went to cash the cheque—I paid 95l. into the prisoner's bank, and took out a diamond and emerald ring from the pawn-shop—I heard Mr. Moon say that he was going to engage a courier to travel with her on the continent, and I know that he had an interview with the courier, because I saw them together in the little room at No. 23—I was told that the bottle had been thrown—the fragments were on the floor, and part of the neck was on the table—the table was about half a yard from the fragments on the floor—there was a splash of wine on the face of the clock on the chimneypiece, and Mr. Moon said "Flo, I am very sorry I have committed such an act, and I hope you will overlook it"—she was very indignant, and he entreated her to forgive him—she said she would not, at first, but at last she did—they had a few words—she said she was indignant at such an insult, and she would not allow it, but when Mr. Moon entreated her to overlook it, the did—that was about four months before Mr. Moon's death—I am very inaccurate about dates—I have never travelled with the prisoner for remuneration—I have been with her when Mr. Moon has paid her expenses and mine—she tried to put him in good spirits on the 24th—she coaxed him, and went up to him, and kissed him in my presence—that was after dinner—he expressed great regret that she was obliged to go to Homburg—he said he should be very unhappy when she went, but that he ought not to

be so selfish to ask her to remain at home in the delicate state of health she was in—he kept repeating "I wish you were not going; I shall be so unhappy when you are away"—that was all that passed, that I remember, except common ordinary topics, in which he joined very little—the persons who were discussing the ordinary topics were Miss Dulin and myself.

GEORGE TURNER PHILLIPS , M.R.C.S. I live at 37, Princes Square, Bayswater—I have known the prisoner some time—she was originally my father's patient—he is also a medical man—I attended her at his request—I saw her on the morning of 24th May, and had some conversation with her—I saw her again at 9.30 at night—she came into the drawing-room to me, and said "Oh, doctor, can you call again in an hour; Fred, is going on so" I knew who Fred, was; I had seen Mr. Moon—I always thought he was her step-brother—after seeing her for a few minutes, I left her—I went back again, in consequence of a message, about 10.20—I think I saw Mrs. Toynbee—I went into the dining-room—the prisoner was there—she said nothing—Mr. Moon was lying on his back, rather inclined towards the left side, and in a dying condition—the prisoner was lying on the ground, with half her body on the deceased, trying to open his neck-tie and shirt—I was under the impression that he was in a fit, in consequence of the message I had—I ultimately found a wound—I asked for some brandy, and this brandy bottle was produced—he was not quite dead when I arrived, but in a dying condition—he lived, I should say, about six minutes—I passed ray finger into the wound soon after his death, and was able to feel that the heart had been penetrated—I found out before he died that it was not a fit—I searched the room after his death, and found this poultry carver in the fender—Dr. Royston came before he actually died—he was perfectly insensible from the first—some time after his death, I went into the drawing-room, and saw the prisoner—as far as I remember, I said "Good God! how did this happen?"—her answer was, "I don't know how it was; I fear I must have done it in the scuffle"—she said they had had some words about her daughter—the wound must have been inflicted a very few minutes before I arrived—I put my finger in its whole length; I got down to the opening between the ribs, which was at the end of my finger, and I knew then that the heart must have been penetrated—life could not have been existing after that—on Friday morning, the 26th, about thirty-five hours after death, I made a post-mortem examination, in the presence of Dr. Savory, Dr. Westmacott, Dr. Royston, and my father—I made notes of the result of the examination—nothing appeared on the external part of the body, but a wound on the left side, under the arm, commencing a little bit forward to the side, I should think an inch forward—it was situated 71/2 inches from the middle line of the chest bone; that would bring you to one extremity of the wound; and 91/2 inches from the middle bone of the spine would bring you to the other—I did not take the measure of the body at that part—the direction of the wound was downwards, inwards, and forwards—the entire length of it was about 6 inches—it eventually passed between the ribs, but first of all, it passed between the flesh and the ribs, parallel with the ribs, one might almost say, and then dipped in between the sixth and seventh ribs—it had passed through the anterior border of the upper lobe of the left lung, through the pericardium, into the left ventricle of the heart—the end of the wound was in the apex of the heart, the ventricle—that was what I ascertained on the post-mortem—the other organs of the body were healthy—there was not the least doubt of the cause of death—death must have been instantaneous, or nearly so.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I noticed when I went into the room that the coal scuttle was overturned—there was some coal grit in the deceased's hands, when he was lying on his back—there was a Turkey carpet in the dining-room, a particularly thick one—I noticed that the arm chair was pushed back, and the table was out of its place, pushed further back towards the window—that' was all I noticed about the disarrangement of the room—I can't speak about the chairs—I was there some time before the policemen—I was not there in the afternoon, I was there at 9.30 in the evening—I got to the house before my father, after the occurrence, because the message came to me at my father's house—they first went to my house, I was not at home, and then they came on to my father's, where I was, and I ran directly—when I was there at 9.30, the prisoner was sobbing and crying violently when she came into the room, and she said "Can you come again in an hour?"—that was for the purpose of seeing her—she also said "Fred, is going on so"—I think she was not three minutes with me at that time—that was all the conversation that took place—she repeatedly begged and implored that she might go and kiss the body again; that was that same night—so far as my observation went Mr. Moon and she appeared to be on the most affectionate terms—the blade of the knife is about three-quarters of an inch in width—the orifice of the wound was an inch and a half—I can't tell how much nearer the seventh rib than the sixth the knife entered—the space between the two ribs was not quite an inch; I should think just enough to admit the knife—the apex of the left cavity or venticle was penetrated—if the knife went in between the seventh and sixth ribs, it would certainly have taken an inward direction—I am not clear about its being upwards, I can't speak positively—I could not undertake to swear it would not—it would be so near the point of the heart that I could not say whether it would be obliged to take an upward direction 'or not; it was going in an inward direction, and downwards from the very beginning—it did not go inwards till it came to the ribs—from the nature of the wound I could not say that it did take an upward direction; I could not say that it did not—the apex of the heart is between the fifth and sixth ribs—with a body perfectly at rest, a knife passing in between the fifth and sixth ribs, would be the most natural place for the heart to be wounded—I think, by the motion of the body, the heart would be brought down rather lower, but it is impossible to sty; it would not be much—the lower part of the sixth rib is the lowest place one usually finds it at—the apex of the heart would be just at the sixth rib—there is a movement of the heart and ribs at the same time by inspiration—I do not pledge my surgical opinion that the wound in the heart was caused by one blow or stab; I would not say so—I would not pledge my experience and knowledge to that as a fact—I use the term "inwards" at something different from "downwards," it does not mean "upwards"—the downward wound was nearly 3 in. in length—the whole wound was about 6 in.—there was a downward wound for 3 in., and then the tendency was inwards, it was not also upwards—there might be an upward tendency afterwards, of course; I could not say—I do not say that it might take an upward direction; what I mean is, that it took a turn inwards, between the two ribs—if it went between the ribs, and got to the pericardium, it must be downwards—apparently the ribs were not touched or grazed at all—I am not positive as to the seventh and sixth ribs—until I made the post-mortem examination, I had a doubt about it—when I was

examined before the Magistrate, I had not made the post-mortem examination—I had traced the wound by putting my finger in, and from what I then observed I gave my evidence—I said before the Magistrate, "I examined him, and found a wound on the left side, about an inch and a half in diameter, it took rather an upward direction, and inwards"—when I found the body in the position in which it then was, the direction was upwards first of all, it then took a turn down—the wound in the skin I am speaking of, the first part of the wound, not the last part where it reached the apex of the heart—it did take an upward direction in the position in which the arm was—it was upwards, under the skin first—I did not think that the blade of the knife had gone upwards—I don't think it extraordinary that I should have made that observation, because by changing the position of the arm, you change the position of the flesh and the direction of the wound—the arm coming down would bring the outer flesh over the inward part of the wound—if had not made a post-mortem examination I should have always been convinced that the wound had had an upward direction, the first part of it; the post-mortem rectified that opinion—of course keeping the arm back it would not be in the same lobe—I did pass my finger upwards, I should think perhaps an inch or half an inch, between half an inch and one inch—I put my finger between the ribs, and found that the heart had been penetrated, but that was the external part of the wound—in order to reach it, I had to pass my finger up—the whole of a wound is internal when it breaks the skin—I put my finger between the ribs, and convinced myself from that, and also from the great hemorrhage, that the heart had been penetrated—did all that, and yet seemed of opinion that the wound took an upward direction from the opening—I was not of opinion that it took an upward direction of two or three inches, only about an inch—I would not undertake to say positively that the wound could not have been inflicted in a scuffle—the body, falling on the blade of the knife, might give the same sort of wound.

Re-examined. I saw the wound at the post-mortem, and could trace it from its entrance into the body till it reached the apex of the heart—it was bared for the express purpose of the examination, and from the result of that examination, I say that the wound was downwards, inwards, and forwards—there was a decided turn inwards, at the latter part of it, towards the centre of the body I saw no upward tendency—there would be a difference if the wound was inflicted with the arm up, or the arm down, a difference in the situation of the muscles between the ribs at the moment of puncturing—I should think, from that, that it is more probable that the arm was up at the time the blow was inflicted—I say that, from what I observed at first, and afterwards; I mean, of course, the left arm—a person standing in front, and inflicting a blow of that description, the direction of the wound would not be the same; the wound would not have taken the forward direction; I account for the forward direction, from the wound being given from the side, and somewhat at the back; whether it was inflicted by any person or by accident—supposing him to have fallen on the knife, such a wound could only have happened if it struck some article of furniture, or some resisting body—the handle of the knife must have been fixed against some point—there must have been a certain power of resistance, whatever given by—if the knife were placed over the wound, in the direction that the wound took, and he fell backwards and struck an article of furniture or the wall, so as to offer resistance to the handle of the knife, the wound might have been produced

—the backward action of the man would develope the forward action of the knife—any impetus given to the knife, from whatever cause, might produce the wound—a fall against any body sufficient to resist it, would be enough to produce the wound.

JURY. Q. Can you say what amount of force would be necessary to produce a wound of that length? A. No; I could not tell the amount of pounds or hundredweights; a fall must have been a very violent one to have done it—I could not tell the amount of pounds' pressure that would be necessary to project the knife into the body—I think it is possible that the appearance of the wound on the post-mortem examination, might have been caused by the deceased falling on the knife, supposing a struggle to have existed, and the deceased to have taken the knife from the hands of the prisoner, and fallen backward, and the handle of the knife to have rested against some solid substance, such as the sofa or the floor, I quite think that possible.

COURT. Q. Or even without that, if there was any action by which the knife entered the body, would his falling backwards account for the forward action of the knife? A. It would orignally.

MR. GIPPARD. Q. Is that what you really mean to say? A. Yes.—I think it is possible—there must have been some fixture behind the weapon, or a sufficient momentum given to the handle by falling against some fixed body, or something sufficiently heavy to do it—the mere fall would not do it—it is difficult to say what is impossible; any fall which would, by striking against furniture or anything else, give the necessary weight to the handle, would be sufficient to produce the wound—I do not think the fall or inclination backwards would do it, without an impetus given to the knife—ray difficulty is in saying that anything is impossible.

WILLIAM SCOVELL SAVORY . I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and am surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I was present at the post-mortem examination of Mr. Moon—I found an external wound on the left side of the chest, between the sixth and seventh ribs—the wound passed in an oblique direction, forwards, in wards, and downwards, so that the end of the wound in front was 2 inches lower than the end of the wound behind; that represents the dip; the angle was 2 inches, in a little over 5—the wound was perfectly straight in direction from end to end—such an instrument as this knife would produce it—I can give no accurate estimate of the force required to produce the wound—it must have been considerable—I can't use a more exact term than that—I saw the clothes through which it had penetrated; a coat, waistcoat, and shirt—the wound was above the band of the trowsers—the lower end of the wound reached the apex of the heart—there was not the slightest tendency of an upward character in the wound, that I could make out—there is not the slightest difficulty, that I can see, in a weapon going in between the sixth and seventh ribs, taking a downward direction, and reaching the apex of the heart—the ribs are very obliquely placed, so that what would be between the sixth and seventh ribs, at the spot where this wound occurred, still digging downwards, would appear between the fifth and sixth, or behind the sixth rib, where the point of the heart beats—the ribs are all inclined downwards—this (produced) is a photograph from a male subject, the only one at my command, taken in the dissecting room of St. Bartholomew's—this white rod, or arrow, shows the direction of the wound, and how it would go between the sixth and seventh ribs—it was suggested that there might be some difficulty in understanding

the anatomy of the parts, and that this might assist—I am as certain as I can be of anything, because I saw it, that this wound was downwards through its whole course—this arrow shows the wound pretty accurately—the weapon must have gone between the ribs very obliquely, and then through a portion of the left lung, then through the sac of the heart, and then through the heart itself—looking at the situation of the wound, and the direction it took, my opinion is that it must have been inflicted by a stab from another person, and by one single blow—I am not able to suggest any theory by which a fall could, to my mind, satisfactorily account for it.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I was requested by Mr. Moon's brother to attend the post-mortem examination—I have been acquainted with the family for a long time, I hope I may say on friendly and intimate terms—I knew the deceased—I have known the family upwards of twenty years—the nature of the intimacy has been chiefly professional; not purely so; mostly—the deceased I had not seen for many years, except professionally—my intimacy with the family has been both that of friendship and professional—I believe it began professionally—I intended by this photograph to represent, as nearly as I could, the course of the wound in question—this represents where the knife entered, between the sixth and seventh ribs; you will see a little pin there, showing the situation of the external wound through the skin—the skin is removed there, of course, to show the ribs—the external wound would be as near as possible at the lower border of the sixth rib—I did not take this photograph—I tried the experiments myself, and in company also with Mr. Baker—he was present at the post-mortem—he is a gentleman attached to our hospital as one of the surgical staff, and lecturer on physiology and anatomy—Mr. Phillips was not present—the suggestion came to me, from someone or other, that it would be as well to have it done—it was done al out a week ago—I can't say that I had heard at that time that medical evidence was likely to be called on behalf of the prisoner—I think the attorney for the prosecution mentioned to me in conversation, that someone had suggested to him it would be as well to have a photograph of the parts involved, the ribs—he suggested that I should get as accurate a representation as I could of the direction the wound took—he did not tell me that surgical witnesses were likely to be called on the prisoner's behalf—I had not heard of it—I hope you will not cross-examine me upon Mr. Phillips' evidence; I have not the slightest objection to be cross-examined on my own—I heard Mr. Phillips state that the wound took a downward direction for 3 inches, and afterwards an inward course—this photograph does not represent such a course, because the wound was straight—I differ from Mr. Phillips' description of it to-ay materially—I did not request that this diagram should not be shown to Mr. Phillips when he appeared here, or that he should not be asked about it—I gave no sort of opinion at all—I do not speak at all in a disparaging tone of Mr. Phillips; on the contrary, I say I have expressed no opinion about it at all; anyone might see it—he has not seen it, nor was he consulted—his was the hand that made the post-mortem examination; I and Mr. Baker were looking on—it is right to say that when I wished to verify an observation, I did it with my own hand—I took the direction of the wound and measured it—the evidence given by Mr. Phillips to-day does not convey a fair impression of the wound; I mean not a correct one—it was not because I had no confidence in his judgment that I did not consult him—I should have done this quite alone, if Mr. Baker had not been in the hospital—he lives there—I had not

the slightest reason for not showing this to Mr. Phillips—when I made it, I did not know that I differed from him—from the description he has given to-day, I do—I understand him to describe the direction of the wound as changing in its course; that it went first in one direction and then in another—I gathered that from his description of the wound—I refer to that part of his evidence in which he implied that the direction of the wound changed—I say there was no upward tendency at all—I suppose it is possible that in a post-mortem examination of this kind, two gentlemen of equal professional eminence may honestly come to a different conclusion as to the course which such a wound took—it is what you look at, and see; it is a matter of fact—I was present before the Coroner, and heard Mr. Phillips examined—I beg pardon, I did not hear him examined, nor at the Police Court; I was present at both examinations, but my evidence was taken as soon as I got there, and I was allowed to go as soon as it was over; stop, let me correct myself; I may have been in the place at the time he gave evidence before the Coroner, but I did not hear it given; I was there waiting to be examined—I don't know that he was examined in my presence—I have read his evidence—I did not read it before I had this photograph done; that had no sort of reference to his evidence—I had read the newspapers; I had not read the deposition.

Q. If the blade of the knife had entered lower down than the sixth and seventh ribs than you have placed it, would that have rendered it difficult for the apex of the left venticle of the heart to be reached, except by an upward movement? A. No; not at all, because the point of the heart moves, it is not a fixed thing; the point of the heart is usually found after death behind the cartilage of the sixth rib, and at the end of a very deep inspiration the point beats below the cartilage of the sixth rib; the whole of the ribs rise and the heart sinks—it is my judgment that the wound was a single uninterrupted wound, delivered by some one making a stab—I cannot account for it by the deceased falling on the knife, I believe it to be impossible—I have not stated that I did not think it impossible—I will not swear, neither do I, that it is impossible, but I believe it to be impossible—I will not swear it is impossible, because my judgment may err—I said before the Coroner, "If the knife were fixed, a man by falling on it might have produced such a wound," that was with reference to his weight—assuming that the whole weight of the body could have been brought to bear upon the knife, it might have produced such a wound, but I don't see how that could have happened—I will not swear that even that is absolutely impossible—the heart is not represented in this photograph—the ribs were painted white, that they might catch the light—this shows directly the direction the wound took when it went in—I should like to add that I am sorry if in any way I implied indirectly the least reflection on Mr. Phillips.

Re-examined. I did not intend to disparage him—I do not agree with him in the description he has given of the wound—when I said before the Coroner that, if the knife was fixed a man by falling upon it might have produced such a wound, I was then being examined as to how much force it would take to inflict a wound of that sort—if the knife were fixed and the man's whole weight came upon it, it would go to that extent, only a man's weight could not come upon it—to the best of my judgment it is impossible that such a wound could be produced by a fall—I really can have no shadow of doubt as to what was the direction of the wound, or whether it was one straight course; I saw it, it was a matter of visual observation—

I think the force must have been from without, inward, from behind forwards, and from above, downwards; in other words, in the direction of the knife—the difficulty of reconciling it with any fall is, that the wound should be from above downwards—if the body was falling, it must have been from below upwards—the weight of the body would give force enough to cause such a wound, if it could be applied—that would presume that the body must be in an inverted position—it could not be standing in a natural position.

RICHARD PHILLIPS . I had attended Mrs. Davey for some months previous to this—it was through me that my son was introduced to her, and also attended her—on the night of 24th May, I was sent for by my son to 23, Newton Street—I went there and found the doors all open, so that I was able to walk in—I found Mr. Moon lying on the rug in front of the fire-place, dead—I afterwards went into the drawing-room, and there found Mrs. Davey—her first words were "Oh, doctor, how is he?"—I said "He is dead, Mrs. Davey"—she said "Dead! dead! impossible!"—I said "Yes, it is really so, Mrs. Davey"—she then fell into a swoon in the chair, and when she recovered she said "Oh, doctor, I am afraid it is I that have done it! oh, doctor, I am afraid it is I that have done it!"—I said "Impossible, Mrs. Davey, you could not have done it"—she said "I really think it was so"—I had examined the wound before I said that—her words were "I really think it must be so, but I don't know how it happened"—I said "For God's sake, explain yourself, Mrs. Davey"—she then said "We were both sitting after dinner, Fred. said something which annoyed me excessively"—I don't remember that she said of whom he was speaking; that she then said to him "Don't repeat it, I can't bear it;" that he said "I will repeat it, and if you are not silent, I will fling a bottle at your head"—she then said "I jumped up with the knife in my hand, we struggled and fell, I saw the blood pouring out, and I did not know how"—I said "Then I must send for your husband; where is he?"—she said "I believe he is at his club, my servant shall go for him directly"—that was the whole of the conversation—she asked me to go and see the deceased again, and begged to be allowed to go and kiss his face—I told her she must keep still till her husband came home—I then went out and made a communication to the police—when I first entered the room I noticed that the knife basket was lying on the table opposite the window.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. She was in great grief and distress at the time she made this statement to me—I understood from her statement that she was unconscious of the exact way in which this had occurred; that was my impression from her description—I was present in the room at the post-mortem examination—I could not possibly say that the wound might not have happened accidentally in the scuffle.

Re-examined. My impression is that the blow was received whilst the deceased's arm was being uplifted—I should like to give my reasons for that—I think I was the first that explored the wound; I tried to pass my finger in the direction that the wound appeared to me externally—I failed to do so, my finger would not go through—I then attempted to pass my finger downwards, it would not go in that direction—I then passed it upwards, and I found that it would go in that direction, and then the finger passed between the ribs directly under the heart—that leads me to the conclusion that the arm was up, because when the arm is uplifted the skin is lifted, therefore, what appeared a direct wound at the post-mortem, may still have

appeared an indirect wound immediately after it occurred—coupling the post-mortem appearances with what I observed at the time, I should say the direction of the wound was very fairly described by Mr. Savory—he had not the opportunity of examining the wound at the time I had—at the post-mortem the whole course of the wound was laid bare from point to point—I have no doubt Mr. Savory's description of the direction of the wound was correct, as he saw it; but the direction varied from the time I saw it in the way I have described, the muscle being raised by the arm being raised.

JURY. Q. Not by the knife being turned, but by the arm being uplifted the skin would be so also? A. Yes.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Was the direction of the knife always one with what you have been describing as the external wound on the skin? A. My opinion is that it was always one—in my judgment the wound was caused, in all probability, by a stab, but I could not say; possibly it was not—my opinion is that it was done by a stab.

WILLIAM WARWICK BAKER , F.R.C.S. I am assistant surgeon, and lecturer on physiology, at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I was present at the post-mortem examination of Mr. Moon—I heard Mr. Savory give the description of the result of that examination, and I entirely agree with him—the wound was downwards, forwards, and inwards—I believe it to have gone in a uniform direction—I was present at the arrangement of the cheat of a patient at the hospital for the purpose of showing that a weapon might go through the ribs in a slanting direction, and yet reach the apex of the heart—there is no difficulty in a weapon going between the sixth and seventh ribs, and reaching the apex of the heart—that arises from what Mr. Savory describes as the obliquity of the ribs.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. The wound went downwards, forwards, and inwards, those three words express the same direction—I mean that neither of them is incompatible with the other—each of those terries means something different, but they are all perfectly consistent, and exclude the opinion of an upward direction—the orifice of the wound was about an inch and a half—supposing it was a stab, the orifice would be larger than the width of the instrument stabbing—I see no difficulty in that—you have a knife, one side of which is a cutting one, it would be in the highest degree probable if you stick it into a body, that the edge would divide the integuments through which it passes—it would be impossible that the line taken by the knife, should be mathematically straight—the wound is nearly twice the width of the instrument that makes it, because if you pass a knife through the skin, one end of which is a cutting one, the chances are you will make a wound larger than the diameter of the knife—I cannot tell, from the appearance of the wound, which part was nearer to the shoulder—those three definitions exclude the notion that the wound may have taken an oblique direction upwards—with those three-elements in the course of the wound, it still may be direct—the orifice of the wound being somewhat larger than the width of the knife that made it, would depend upon whether the sharp part was upwards or down wards. (The witness here made a sketch of the position of the wound.) I did not take notice at the time of the width of the wound, but Dr. Westmacott took notes in writing—Mr. Savory is a coadjutor of mine at the hospital—I approve of this diagram (the photograph) except that the entrance was a little larger than this—the knife went between the sixth and seventh ribs—I did not make any drawing of the course of the wound at the post-mortem.

DR. PHILLIPS (re-examined). These are the rough notes I made—no drawing was made—and I believe no other minute was made but this rough note.

W. W. BAKER (continued) I did this rough drawing of the course of the wound according to the best of my judgment and belief of what I saw at the post-mortem—it is not physically impossible that the wound arose from an accident—I have examined wounds from stabs in the course of my practice, but I have no special experience—my experience is founded on my general knowledge of anatomy and surgery—I don't know an instance of a struggle for a knife with an innocent intention, and a party falling on it and being wounded to death; but I think such a case far from impossible—the weight of Mr. Moon's body falling on a knife, would be quite sufficient to produce such a wound, if the knife was fixed—it is not physically impossible that if Mr. Moon, in a struggle, had seized hold of this knife, or of the arm which held it, and in the struggle had fallen on the prisoner, or the prisoner on him, that it might have produced such a wound: or if the prisoner caught hold of his arm, or he of hers—I use the word physically in contradiction to what is called morally impossible; I mean that it is not contrary to natural laws—I do not wish to qualify the words "physically, impossible" in any way—in my judgment it would not probably happen by an accident—though I say that it is not physically impossible, I have not formed the opinion that it occurred in that way—I have formed the opinion that Mr. Savory has formed, that it was produced by a stab—I consider it in the highest degree impossible that the wound was caused accidentally—I should hardly think it likely that gentlemen in my profession, of equal position with myself, might, with the same facts before them, form a totally different opinion, but I am not prepared to say—I attended the post-mortem, and was introduced into this case at Mr. Savory's instance—I attended with him on behalf of the family—I was not acquainted with the family at all—I have been two years lecturer on physicology at St. Bartholomew's and six or seven years at the college.

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I think everybody would be able to form a very good judgment as to the wound going downwards, forwards, and inwards; common sense might dictate part, but a medical man might form an opinion better—by downwards I mean, from the head towards the feet; by inwards, in a direction from the side of the body to the middle line—I don't think I could give a diagram inwards on a piece of flat paper, I could give the direction alone—I could represent a breast-bone, and the upper surface, but by a mere line without shading, I could not represent it on a flat surface.

Q. You have been asked what you mean by physically impossible, and you say, not contrary to any natural law, if you find a man with a hole on the top of his head, it would not be physically impossible that he should have turned a somersault and done it, and that is what you mean by not physically impossible? A. I agree perfectly with Mr. Savory, that the angular direction of the wound was 2 inches in 5 inches—when I speak of the wound being produced by Mr. Moon's weight, I speak of the amount of penetration into the body, irrespective of other circumstances—it is far from impossible for a person to fall on a knife and produce a wound which would cause death—that answer does not assume any particular position of the wound, or any particular position of the body—in forming a judgment in this case, I have viewed all the circumstances, the situation, and

direction of the wound, and so forth, and I believe it not to have been accidental.

JURY. Q. Taking the view of the knife entering, we will not suggest any cause, but the elements involved mere direction and force? A. Yes—a mathematical diagram would represent it—the diagonal of a cube would undoubtedly be downwards, forwards, and inwards.

COURT. Q. You say you can discover no ground for supposing this was an accidental wound? A. No—a blow from another person might be accidental or wilful, but an accidental puncturing would hardly be a blow—a person falling in a fit of delirium, or intoxication, would not be likely to produce such a wound, but it could not be impossible.

JURY. Q. Supposing a knife struck into the body enters the skin and punctures the flesh, would not the orifice be enlarged by withdrawing the knife? A. Very likely, indeed that would be a good way of accounting for the difference between the width of the orifice and the width of the blade—it is very likely that the act of withdrawing might enlarge the wound without reference to the direction the knife took when in the body—if the man fell on the knife, it would remain in the wound, unless someone else withdrew it, to do which the body must be turned over.

COURT. Q. The apex of the heart had been punctured? A. Yes, that would produce very speedy death—I believe it is in the highest degree improbable that the deceased could have withdrawn the knife himself—I can-not say that death would be so speedy as to make that certain, but I have the firmest belief that that could not have been done.

CHARLES ROYSTON , M.D. I am a licentiate of the College of Physicians, and have two other appointments—I was sent for on the night of 24th May, and arrived about 10.20, as near as I can remember—Mr. George Phillips was there when I arrived, and the deceased was alive, but he lived a very short time—he gasped two or three times after my arrival—I have heard Mr. Baker, Mr. Savory, and Mr. Phillips, sen., examined—I concur in the testimony Mr. Savory and Mr. Baker have given—I was simply there through the courtesy of Mr. Phillips—I swear to the wound being forwards, downwards, and inwards, and I say that it is possible it might have been done by an accident, but at the same time it is highly improbable.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I was examined before the Magistrate, but not before the Coroner—I was there, but it was not necessary, as he was satisfied with the medical evidence—I said before the Magistrate that it was not absolutely impossible to have been accidental—I said "I think it possible that the wound might have been inflicted, supposing the knife had been fixed in her hand, and he had fallen against her, provided the knife had been fixed"—I agree in substance with Mr. Baker.

DR. WESTMACOTT. I am a M.R.C.S., of Edinburgh, and a member of the University of New York—I attended the post-mortem—I have heard Mr. Baker's, Mr. Savory's, and Mr. Phillips' evidence, and concur with them as to the direction of the wound, and the mode by which it might be caused, both as a question of possibility and probability.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I have had cases of stabbing, but I never saw one of the same severity—I stated before the Coroner that an idea occurred to me that it might possibly have occurred in a struggle, and I thought over it, but I could not come to that conclusion, as I did not think it would take that direction—I meant that the other party seizing hold of the knife, and the deceased seizing hold of the arm at

the same time, I thought it might possibly occur in that way by a fall, but I changed my mind afterwards, and before I had finished my evidence, I forgot what I said exactly—I volunteered that suggestion to the Coroner—nobody was on their trial—I tried to see if it might happen in that way, and I positively stated, on my oath, that it might have—I did not describe the struggle—the knife never touched the ribs, it went into the intercostal space—I said, both before the Magistrate and the Coroner, that if the two persons were struggling together, and he fell on her, or she on him, it might have happened in that way—I picked up a piece of a comb, which Inspector Horsley, of the X division trod on, and gave it to him, and the broken tooth with it—that has not been mentioned before—I was never asked about it—the post-mortem was held in the parlour, and the piece of comb was under the table.

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. It was an entire comb, except the piece which I found, which made it complete—I found both, and gave them to the inspector—Mr. Phillips will recollect the circumstance, because he kicked it, and trod upon it—I do not know whether it was a back or a side comb; it was such as ladies wear in their hair—I found it at the post-mortem examination—Mr. Phillips trod on it—I was present at the time, and took notes—I made a diagram of the course of the wound, and I made rough notes—I made a more perfect one afterwards—this is merely a pencil sketch I took of a portion of the lungs and the heart—I put them on a piece of a paper, one piece lapping over the other, to show the true position—it is a drawing I copied some years ago from Gray's Anatomy—I put as near as possible the entrance of the knife in through the integuments, and close to the apex of the heart—I have represented the wound entering between the sixth and seventh ribs, going in a diagonal direction, and nevertheless entering the apex of the heart—I made a more finished diagram than that, showing the lungs lying over the heart—this shows the one lying on the other—the lung there is separated from the heart, but in this I fixed the lung on the heart, so as to show the two wounds together—the wood engraving represents the work as it was prepared before—it represents the anatomy of the parts, and I put in the pencil-marks.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Then it struck the apex of the heart just on the border of the lower part of the sixth rib? A. No, not the lower part—it passed between the sixth and seventh ribs, and struck it near the upper part of the sixth rib—that was done by a direct wound, an inch and a half across—these are very rough notes, I did not intend them as evidence.

WILLIAM BUTLER LANGMORE . I am the brother-in-law of the deceased—his name was Frederick Graves Moon—his age was forty-one—he was about my height—he was a healthy man, and of a very lively, cheerful disposition—information of his death was first received by his relatives on the Thurs-day, the day after—I then went to 23, Newton Road, and arrived about 3 o'clock that afternoon—I saw the prisoner—I was accompanied by Mr. Alderman Sidney, who asked the prisoner to whom the house belonged—she said it was her own—Alderman Sidney asked her how this event had occurred—she said she could not tell, it was the work of a moment, as near as I can recollect—I understood her to say that he had been of late very much depressed in spirits, in consequence of the Licensing Beer Bill in Parliament—she also said that he had lost a great sum of money on the Derby—it was the Derby day—I can't say whether she said what time he

came to Newton Road on the Wednesday, but I think it was the afternoon at 7.15, and that he was disappointed with her not lunching with him, after receiving a telegram to do so—Alderman Sidney asked her if there had been any quarrel between them—she said "No, only a few words"—I think the Alderman asked her whether he had spoken after the wound had been given; I won't be positive, and she said he gave a kind of sigh after it—that was all I heard—I returned home.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Mr. Moon was connected with the trade of brewing—I knew the prisoner some years ago—I did not know of my brother-in-law's intimacy with her of late years—she was at her own house on that day—Alderman Sidney is connected with my family—these two letters (produced) are in Mr. Moon's writing—this other letter is not—I think the Alderman asked whether he spoke after the wound, but I was just coming out of the room at the time, and I think she said he gave a kind of sigh after it was received.

WILLIAM HENRY PICKFORD . I am a medical man, and knew the deceased very intimately—he was the greatest friend I had—I have known him about twenty years—I have also known the prisoner for some time—about a month before this I was present at a quarrel at 23, Newton Road—it was in the middle of dinner—Mr. Moon asked her if she had paid certain bills, she said "Yes"—a threat was used in the course of the quarrel—she said "By heavens! I will have your life some day!"—I knew the prisoner first about twelve years ago, but I only renewed the acquaintance fifteen months ago—about six weeks previous to this, one day after luncheon, at St. James's Street, I heard her say "By Jove! I will stab you some day i"—on the day after the catastrophe, about 1.50 in the afternoon, I went to her house in consequence of this telegram which I received—(I found that it had been sent by Mrs. Toynbee)—she said "Have not you heard the news?"—I said "No, what news?"—she said "What, have not you heard yet?"—I said "No, what is it?"—she said "Not about poor Fred. Moon?"—I said "No"—she said "Fred. Moon is dead"—I said "Good God! when did he die?"—she said "Last night"—I said "Where, in Portman Squaret" that id his father's house—she said "No, here"—I asked "What did he die of?"—she said "He got into one of his violent fits of passion, burst a blood vessel, and dropped down dead"—I wanted to see the body; she said "You can't go in, the door is locked"—I said "What a fool you were to send for the police, Flo."—there was a policeman in the hall when I went in—she said "There is going to be an inquest, you will see it in the papers"—she told me she expected his brother John and his brother-in-law there directly—I said I had rather not see them, and would not wait, and I left.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Mr. Moon became acquainted with the prisoner about twelve years ago—there were occasional interruptions in their acquaintance; twice, I think—I first knew her under very different circumstances, and when I renewed my acquaintance, I was aware that she was living with Mr. Moon—I am assistant-surgeon in the Guards, and have been so thirteen and a half years—during the whole of that time I have known Mr. Moon—I have been in the habit of visiting constantly at 23, Newton Road, during the last twelve months, and sometimes meeting Mr. Moon, and sometimes not—I was not more than five or six minutes in her presence when she made the statement about his having burst a blood vesssel—I was on very friendly terms with her—I used to call her "Flo"—I frequently dined there—sometimes there were young ladies there—Miss

Dulin used to be there—I do not know her intimately, on my oath—I say "on my oath," because you used the word "intimately," and it was my impression that you meant criminally—if I am asked if I know a lady intimately, I consider that it means criminally, in some cases—I travelled with Mr. Moon on several occasions—I went as his guest; he paid my hotel bills—someone else travelled with us, whom he paid for also—a companion; not my companion—we travelled abroad—he used to pay my railway fare; I went as his guest entirely—he paid all my expenses—this (produced) is a letter I wrote to the prisoner the day before the occurrence—I was constantly at the house, playing and singing, and joining in the entertainment, both when Mr. Mooon was there and when he was not—not almost every day, but very frequently, and taking my meals there—I was in the habit of writing to her as "My dear River"—I have written to her frequently in that way.

Q. Were you paying honourable attentions to Miss Dulin? A. I don't see that I should answer that question—no, I was not; I never spoke to her of an offer of marriage, and never intended—I took her out to theatres on one or two occasions, but not to balls—my age is thirty-seven, and she is eighteen or nineteen—I know her mother—I have been to her house often—I never visited Miss Dulin as a lover—I had no intention of marrying her—I never visited her under another name than my own—I am quite certain of that—I never called at her mother's house, and left another name than my own—I know the name of Cross, but I never used it—she has mentioned it to me—I never represented myself as anyone but who I am—I used to be constantly in the society of this young lady, at 23, Newton Road—I used to send my best love to her, through the prisoner, and used to call her Kate, or Kitty, and I have called her "My dear little Kitty"—am I bound to answer the question whether I have attempted to kiss her—yes, I have attempted to kiss her—I do not know what you mean by asking if I acted as a lover to her—I have kissed her, and put my arm round her waist—I have not complained to the prisoner of her preventing my being alone with Miss Dulin by her own presence, either by writing or word of mouth, but I always thought two was company, and three was none—I wrote to the prisoner, and said "I want to have a chat with her alone"—I complained I never had a chance of being alone with her—it would have been more agreeable to have been alone with her—I mode a complaint to the prisoner on the morning of the 23rd—the reason I said "What a fool you were to send for a policeman," was because I believed her statement that Mr. Moon had fallen down, and that the body was locked up in the room—I knew it would expose his family—I did not try the door, to see whether that was true—I went away almost immediately, when she said she expected John Moon and Mr. Leighton, and said "Whatever you do, don't say that I have been here."

Re-examined by MR. GIFFARD. There has never in my life been any improper intimacy between me or the prisoner, or between me and Miss Dulin—the meaning of "My dear River" is this, there is a song, "Flow on thou shining river," and Mr. Moon called her "Flo" and I called her "River"—when I left her, on the 25th, I was on terms of friendship with her—these suggestions were never made before I gave evidence before the Magistrate—I have had no quarrel with her, and have no desire to injure her.

COURT. Q. After the month you referred to, and after the six weeks

before that, did you see the parties together frequently, and on friendly terms? A. Yes.

SUSAN HUGHES . I live at 40, St. James' Street—Mr. Frederick Moon had rooms there for some years—I have seen the prisoner there occasionally—Mr. Moon lunched at home by himself on the Derby-day, 24th May—he left about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and I saw nothing more of him—I knew that that was the anniversary of his mother's death—he seemed in his usual spirits when he left.

HUGH ECCLES (Police Superintendent). I first heard of this transaction about 2.30 on the morning of the 25th May—when I was called to the Paddington Police-station, some questions arose about keeping her in the station—I went to the house with Dr. Westmacott about 4.30—I examined the dining-room and found the deceased lying in front of the fire-place, parallel with the fender—I saw the bottles produced on the table, and took charge of them, they are all in the same state now—I saw Mrs. Toyubee, Miss Dulin, Miss Pook, and the servants who have been examined here; and on Friday, 26th, I apprehended the prisoner on a warrant—I said "What is the meaning of all this?"I said "You will have to go the police-station."

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. It was after I read the warrant to her that she said "What is the meaning of all this?"—she had been out on bail—she was re-arrested next day—she went before the Magistrate on Thursday morning, 25th—she was bailed, and on the third day a warrant was issued for her apprehension—I was before the Magistrate when she was called upon to say what she had to say, and she read a statement.

Heexamined by MR. GIFFARD. When she was first brought before the Magistrate and bailed, no one was present from Mr. Moon's family—Captain Davey bailed her—she went voluntarily with me—he is a retired captain in the Army—there had been, I believe, three remands before she read the statement, and on each occasion Mr. George Lewis, the attorney, appeared for her. (Mr. Gifford declined to put in the statement, it being prepared by the attorney.)

GEORGE GREENHAM . I am a Sergeant of Detective Police at Scotland-yard—I am also a draughtsman—I prepared this plan of the dining-room at 23, Newton Road—it is correct; the distances are accurately marked on it—I saw the room a few days before the prisoner was brought up before the Magistrate at Marlborough Street.

JOHN BARDOLPH BOWS ELLIOTTS . I have known the late Mr. Moon six or seven years—I also know the prisoner—in July, 1870, I was in the dining-room at 23, Newton Road—I was looking for the deceased and the prisoner after dinner, to say "Good night"—I heard an altercation in the dining-room—I asked what was the matter, and the prisoner said the deceased wished to stop there; she was not willing he should stop—she said they had had several quarrels lately, he had given her a great deal of annoyance, and she would not put up with it any longer; and if he continued to do so, she would either kill him, or stab him—she did not use both words, but one or the other—he said "It is not your fault that you have not done so already, you have tried."

Cross-examined by MR. E. JAMES. I saw she had been crying; she seemed to be vexed—I had been playing at billiards down stairs—Mr. Moon said on that occasion that he would settle 3000l. or 4000l. on her, by way of a life annuity, and never see her again, if I would meet him next morning

for the purpose—I went to 40, St. James's Street, next morning, but he did not meet me—I have not seen them together since—the separation or annuity was never carried out, as far as I know.

MRS. TOYNBEE (re-examined). I took the fork out of the basket to open the olive bottle, but I don't know whether the basket was under or on the sideboard—I removed the fork only, not the basket.

Witnesses for the Defence.

EDWIN CANTON , F.R.C.S. I am surgeon to Charing Cross Hospital, and have been twenty-five years a lecturer on anatomy and surgery—I have heard the whole of the medical evidence, and the whole of the material evidence in this case, and I have read the evidence before the Coroner—I have seen the photographic diagram Mr. Savory produced—this drawing produced by Mr. Westmacott does not differ materially from Mr. Savory's—I believe that the wound on the deceased penetrating through the left side to the heart, might have been done accidentally, from the evidence I have heard—I did not attend the post-mortem, and never examined the deceased—my evidence is founded on what I have heard in Court during the last two days, and what would happen under the circumstances—I have heard Mr. Savory's evidence, and assuming it is correct, I believe the wound might have been purely accidental—it is equally probable that it was caused by a stab or accidentally, and I think it is more probable, from the evidence, that it took place by pure accident than from an intentional stab—assuming it to have occurred as I believe it to have been done, purely as a matter of accident, the knife being held by Mrs. Davey daggerways, if she held it in her right hand so as to have a firm hold of it, and at the same moment her hand was instinctively upraised, it would be momentarily done under the aggravation of it being said that something would be thrown at her: Mr. Moon, I suppose, passed from where he was to her, and suddenly approached her with a view of wresting the instrument from her hand, he would come quickly to her with his left side, raise his left hand and arm, and grasp her hand or wrist, or the handle of the instrument; her hand with the instrument would be suddenly drawn down by a natural instinct, and with his body close to it, it would go down into his chest; he would then have fallen, I believe, to the position in which he was found—if the wound had been inflicted that way, I believe it would have taken the course it did, which Mr. Savory explains—it went downwards, forwards, and inwards, between the skin and muscle, and through the space between the sixth and seventh ribs, injuring the front edge of the left lung, entering the back of the heart, and piercing its apex—I assume that Mr. Moon, either had his hand on the wrist or the handle of the knife, or grasping the hand; or if he first seized the wrist, that would make no matter; if I were to seize this knife, and take if from the table, I should assume an attitude of defence; a person coming to me from this side would have his left side towards me; he raises his hand, and as a matter of course exposes the left side of his body, and in trying to take the knife away, he draws down the hand, and also lessens the power of the muscles, which are in an upraised position, and obliquely downwards, forwards, and inwards, it passes into his body.

BY THE COURT. I have adopted this view from very deep consideration of all the circumstances, and among them is one I have not alluded to, as showing that Mr. Moon did upraise his hand beyond a distinctive movement, the arm must have been upraised and the wound inflicted; when the

arm falls the muscles fall, and so it was that Mr. Phillips felt it to go a little upward—I assume the hand to be upraised with the knife in its grasp; how it came to be upraised, whether by the owner or not I cannot say, but I suppose it may have been the instinct to grasp the instrument—the view I entertain is, that Mr. Moon in seizing the hand, or the wrist, or the handle, drew it down—I do not suppose he raised it up first, I think he pushed it downwards from the beginning, and as his body was so near, it had just gone in; he drew it down suddenly, and the knife was made to enter his body.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. How would the wrist be drawn down I A. By the movement that he would make; if I were about to take a knife from the hand of a person, I should certainly and instinctively draw the hand down, because the higher the arm is raised the greater my danger—I think the prisoner's arm must have been raised some distance, fully this (imitating), so as to give it the necessary impetus to drive it into the chest, which would require a great deal of force, and if I went to seize a knife in that way I should draw it downwards with all my force—I have never said the prisoner's arm was raised, I have said that it was depressed by Mr. Moon's left arm—I do not think a person could pull it down with the left hand with such force that it should be forwards, inwards, and downwards, there was no back action—this gentleman (Mr. Phillips) represents Mrs. Davey, he takes the knife and he raises his arm, I as Mr. Moon, with my coat buttoned, come from this side and draw the arm, and I take this hand and draw it right down into my chest; if the coat had not been buttoned, some little irregularity would occur, but being buttoned, the knife goes instantly down, I may or may not use my right hand, but I draw it down with force enough to draw it into my chest.

COURT. Q. I do not impute to you anything but what is right and conscientions, but you supposed the shoulder raised upwards before, now you have given a theory that her hand was raised up and he pulls it down? A. I most fully intended to say that from the first, I mean that he raised his hand to that of Mrs. Davey—I believe the knife if kept at a distance would have far less chance of being withdrawn from the grasp than if it was drawn near.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. Might this in any way be accomplished in a fall, in a struggle between two parties? A. I believe it might; if an effort were made by Mr. Moon to obtain the knife, he might have fallen on it; there is double resistance, the resistance of the hand that held it on one side and the weight of his body on the other—there must be some resistance; if I grasp a hand of another person there is force, there is power of resistance, and if I fall, the two together would do what has occurred, but I believe my view to be the case, though I cannot deny the possibility of the other—an accidental wound would tally in every way with the supposition I have made.

Cross-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I understand the wound to be 61/2 inches from the breast bone here—supposing the wound to be between the sixth and seventh ribs, and taking the middle line, and one inch forward, that would be a good deal under the left arm, but quite consistent with my theory—when I was giving the illustration on Mr. Phillips, I made the knife come down at no particular point, I merely wanted to show the way the accident occurred—I was not present at any of the examinations—I was first applied to, to be a witness, a fortnight or three weeks ago—in the illustration

I gave, my mind was not applied to the wound being more forward or backward—I don't know whether I used both hands to bring the assailant down—I stated, in connection with that, that the left hand certainly was used, but whether the right was used I cannot say—if I approach a person with a dagger, I raise my left hand, and expose this side of my body, the very part that has been penetrated—I use my hand thus, and draw the hand downwards, and drawing it to me, it enters my body—I don't see where I strike my own body—I assume that the dagger is in the hand of a woman, in an upraised condition—I can say no more than that I believe the attitude was just that which would immediately and instinctively follow on taking up a knife, held dagger ways—I believe the higher the hand is raised the greater would be the force necessary to draw it down—I don't know why I should make use of the phrase that the knife was raised in a striking or threatening attitude—I suppose her to have held the knife in an attitude of self-defence, judging from the collateral circumstances, by which I mean, the great fondness that was shown by the two to one another, and the sum of money that had been given—I am referring not to the medical question, or to the appearance of the wound, but to the effect of the evidence—I think the prisoner's attitude was just as much one of protection as of threatening—if any person were to tell me he was about to throw a bottle at my head, and I seized this, I should place myself in an attitude of protection—I do not believe it follows that she was about to use the dagger—if a person were intending to make a blow, they would certainly use the attitude she assumed; that is the attitude I believe that Mrs. Davey was in—from the position of the wound, I think there is no doubt that Mr. Moon approached her with his left side towards her; I mean that she was to the right of him—the table was close here, which prevented him coming full face to her—I consider he approached her with his front partly towards her, but more inclined to the left—I do not think there is anything to favour the view that she approached him from the right—I have said it was more probable that he approached her, while she kept her position, but it is possible she approached him—I might just as well have said one way as the other.

Q. You have said "From the evidence I have heard in the case, my judgment is that it is more probable that it was the result of an accident than intentional; "I ask you to justify that? A. I justify it by saying that I take my data from the surroundings of the case, and upon those I have my views—judging from the medical facts above, there is certainly nothing which renders it more likely that it was an accident than an intentional blow—I assume the weapon to be grasped by the prisoner in my hypothesis—I don't think it necessary that it should be still grasped by her at the moment it entered the deceased's body, but my hypothesis is, that it was so—I think the fact of the body being found on its back, inclining to one side, favours that hypothesis, that being the position in which he is, he receives the wound, and falls powerless—I see the arm-chair marked in this plan, and a chair with its back towards the wall in which the door is, not the one to the fire-place—if Mrs. Davey went from the arm chair to the sideboard, and then approached Mr. Moon, sitting in this chair with its back towards the wall, she would be approaching him from his left—presuming she had the instrument in her right hand, his left would be just from that.

Q. Supposing Mrs. Davey came from the sideboard towards the chair

in which he was sitting with its back to the door of the couch wall, she approaches in a threatening attitude, and he raises up his left arm, would a blow administered suddenly, give the direction in which the wound was? A. Whatever their relative positions were, it would do so; that is the way in which I believe it happened—that would be almost instantaneous, and involve no struggle and disturbance at all—I am speaking of this chair (Pointing it out in the plan), and if that was the relative position of the two persons meeting, the same result would ensue as I have stated—if the chair was moved out of the way, and he was nearer the fire-place, so that the fatal blow had taken place there, that would make no difference, provided she came from the sideboard—I do not think that upon my hypothesis the wound would have commenced more in front, and gone more backwards, nor laterally—I think the forward movement of the right arm is always more in an inclination forwards, or the left arm—my hypothesis assumed the left arm, and it is not altered; taking the left arm to be seizing the wrist, or handle of the knife, or arm, the wound would be far more likely to be from back to front than in an opposite direction—I have heard the wound described—it does not point out a wound coming somewhat more from behind than from the front.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. In the supposition you have made, have you taken into account that the body of this gentleman was found lying down by the fender? A. Yes, with the head a little inclined to the sofa, and close by the coal scuttle—there is nothing at all in the supposition Mr. Giffard has put to me of his being struck in the chair, it does not account for his lying in that position by the fender—this photograph of Mr. Savory's is a very imperfect view of the framework of the chest, it is not sufficiently worthy of being trusted to in such a case as the present—before I saw this, I had formed my opinion from the anatomy, my anatomical knowledge is not interfered with by the photograph—it goes beyond what the photograph shows.

Q. My learned friend tried to induce you to say that the prisoner must have had the knife in a threatening attitude; do you mean anything of that kind? A. I thought it best for me to give the position, one might call it one thing, and one another, that is not a medical opinion.

HAYNES WALTON , F.R.C.S. I am surgeon to St. Mary's Hospital, and was late teacher of anatomy at St. Mary's Medical School—I have been in Court during the two days of this trial, and have listened attentively to the evidence of the surgeons called on the part of the prosecution—I have heard from them the position of the wound, and have carefully listened to the evidence of the last witness, and, in my opinion, it is not at all necessary to establish that the wound must have been inflicted by the blow of a second person; it may have been inflicted in the way Mr. Canton describes; he suggests that Mr. Moon went to her, but she may have gone to him—he puts either alternative, and I put both; he might have approached her; I rather gathered that he concluded that she approached him—if either party came in contact with the other, the same result would follow; if he walked to her and she to him, it might have occurred in the way mentioned—no two witnesses have agreed about the position of the wound; but taking it at 701/2 inches from the middle of the breast, and 91/2 from the middle of the spine, and entering between the sixth and seventh ribs, there is nothing inconsistent with it happening in the way Mr. Canton has represented—it might have been occasioned in that manner by accident—I agree in Mr. Canton's

opinion that the hand might be brought down in the struggle—it might have occurred by two parties struggling for the knife, and the deceased falling on the knife—a parallel case occurred to me at St. Mary's Hospital—a party falling on the knife would not be a blow, it would be the reception of a wound—I can suggest another mode, the deceased and Mrs. Davey might be struggling for the knife and they might have fallen—the knife might be in a fixed position, and she might have fallen upon him, or he upon her, but the knife must have been fixed, or held, so as to cause resistance—there would be resistance enough in the hand—I have had practical experience upon which I base that opinion, in the Spring of 1844, at St. Mary's Hospital, in the accident ward—I am prepared, if Mr. Giffard asks me, to give the details of that case in to to—if there is a knife which presents resistance, anybody falling on it might receive such a wound—I express that opinion as to the power to enter between the sixth and seventh ribs into the heart and cause death, that is the result of my practical observation.

Cross-examined by MR. GIFFARD. Q. Do you suggest that you witnessed a transaction yourself, or only attended a case and heard the statement? A. I heard the statement of the man who was wounded, and saw the post-mortem, I did not see the transaction—this is the first time I have been here as a witness—I have been engaged in civil cases, but not many times in the course of the year—I assume the wound in this case to be 71/2 inches from the middle line in front of the body—I span exactly 8 inches, this is the centre of my body, and this is 71/2 inches, it would be here—I do not measure exactly the same round the waist as the deceased; the coat, waist-coat, and shirt would make a difference—it was stated in the evidence yesterday, that the coat was buttoned; here is the centre of the coat, and if I put my hand here, as I span 8 inches, it would make a difference of half an inch—I did not see the body, but being in Court the last two days, I give my opinion upon the evidence—the distance from the middle line was taken at the post-mortem from the naked body—I do not know whether this is called a Newmarket coat, but I understood it was buttoned up—I wished to answer in the best way I could, and I buttoned it, it was rather pushed up a little where the hole is—I do not see that the wound could not be produced in the way Mr. Canton says—taking the combination of facts, that it was downwards, forwards, and inwards, I still say that it is reasonably possible that it could be produced in the way he suggests—it is possible that the weapon could be brought from the supposed antagonist, whoever it was, just in that position under the left arm—I mean that a selfinflicted wound might have taken that direction if he had instinctively come forwound to protect himself; that is my answer after a great deal of thought, in Court and out of Court, and a great deal of study on the dead body as well as the living.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. I believe that in order to arrive at your opinion you have made several experiments at the hospital? A. Yes, with knives of this size, and according to my belief I have exhausted the subject by experiment—the witnesses who spoke of the orifice of the wound were speaking from the dead body, but my impression was that the coat was buttoned, I think Mr. Phillips stated it—the middle line to the orifice was taken from the dead body—the body lying by the side of the fender is one of the data which I have taken into consideration in forming my opinion—I should imagine that a wound given by a second person would give a backward momentum to the deceased—if the prisoner had struck this blow

with all her force, I should expect Mr. Moon's body to hare taken an opposite direction, because being disabled by the blow, as all bodily blows do, it would have an inclination backwards—that is a matter of physics.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Must the degree of force with which the knife penetrated have been considerable? A. According to the experiments I made, it requires enormous force—I am certain that the blow must have been inflicted with considerable force—according to Mr. Savory's diagram, it did not touch either of the ribs, it passed between them—a little bit of rib is chipped out in this diagram. (This was not the photograph taken from Mr. Moon.) I have assumed the account of the wound as given to be correct—I did not see it—if I take this diagram, I must come to a conclusion that the knife did not go clean between the ribs, as a portion is chipped out—it was not I who suggested the difficulty about touching the apex of the heart, and yet going downwards, but we have had several conversations—we have evidence in the examinations before us that the knife entered between the sixth and seventh rib, and yet touched the apex of the heart—I did not come here to prove that it could not, because the heart was wounded—I never questioned that for a moment—I accept Mr. Savory's evidence—I say that no two witnesses are agreed—the wound went downwards, forwards, and inwards—I did not bear it given in evidence, that inasmuch as the wound passed between the sixth and seventh ribs, the direction of it must have been upwards—I always assumed the direction of the wound to be downwards, because the upper part was above the internal aperture—it always had preserved one uniform line—my impression was that it had turned more, but that might be the position of the heart in inspiration—that had occurred to me before Mr. Savory said it—the conclusion I came to was, that it was forwards and downwards—Mr. Savory's suggestion about the descent of the heart during inspiration, was not a new fact to me—my chief reason for receiving what Mr. Savory has said, is because there was not that difference between the external and the internal wound as was stated—if I had received what Mr. Phillips, jun., stated, that the knife traversed between the ribs and the skin nearly 3 inches, and then went in, that would have been different, but it went obliquely in—I must have accepted the fact of it rising a little, but Mr. Savory said that that was all wrong—I adopt Mr. Savory's statement, and reject the other.

Q. You heard Mr. Savory's explanation of the descent of the heart in respiration? A. I retract that; it was answered rather hurriedly—of course, I know that the heart descends a little in respiration—I say still that I had accepted Mr. Phillips jun.'s view of the course of the wound, and was prepared to show that the wound must have had an upward tendency—the first day I heard Mr. Phillips' evidence, the theory was that the knife went upwards, and in that way suggesting the possibility of a fall upon the knife, and I accepted that theory—I came here as a witness the first day, and was prepared to show to all possibility or probability this happened by a fall, and I base that upon Mr. Phillips' evidence that the wound would have taken an upward tendency—there is very little downward action in it at all—there is an angle of 2 inches in 5, downwards—still that does not do away with my belief as to the fall—I was prepared to My that a fall might have produced that wound upward, and I adhere to that now that I find the direction of the wound was 2 inches downward—it might have done so.

MR. SERJEANT PARRY. Q. You know Mr. Savory is a gentleman of

meinence, and you have accepted whatever he has stated as within anatomical knowledge, that the situation of the heart is within 6 and 7 inches of the rib? A. Yes—the knife entered the lower border of the sixth rib.

THOMAS CARR JACKSON , F.R.C.S. I am surgeon to the Great Northern Hospital, and hold other appointments—I have heard and read the evidence in this case—I heard Mr. Savory's, Mr. Phillips', and Mr. Canton's evidence here, and the last witness—I am aware of the situation where the body was found—I agree with Mr. Canton's demonstration of how the wound might have been inflicted—it might so have occurred by accident through a fall—to give my explanation of how it might have occurred, it is necessary for me to assume a struggle, and on that assumption of a struggle it surpasses human ingenuity to devise how it might not have occurred—it is not necessary for me to assume a struggle that must have been caused by accident—assuming the knife encountered some sufficiently opposing medium, in my judgment the accident would have happened by a fall, independent of a struggle—such a wound as that inflicted would be caused, if there had been sufficient resisting force to the knife by the fall, by the weight of the body falling—in my judgment, if the prisoner, as it is suggested by the prosecution, had delivered this blow with all her force, lie would have fallen backwards by the force of the blow; if it was delivered with sufficient momentum; but it would depend upon the position of the parties whether he would fall back or not—I think the body struck would have fallen away from the body striking.

Cross-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I mean that the body must fall from the force of the blow backwards, if delivered with sufficient force; you could not stick a knife in a leg of mutton without moving it on the table—it is a question of degree—I have not seen the cut—having seen Mr. Canton's demonstration, I think it is reasonably probable that that wound could be made in the way suggested, under the arm—the cut in this coat is fully 3 inches below the left armpit—it is in conformity with the direct stab—I do not believe it possible to construct a theory to explain it outside the struggle—you may have people engaged in a struggle moving in fifty different directions in that number of seconds, and it is only sufficient to show that the knife would encounter a sufficient force to account for that theory—after considering Dr. Canton's theory, I say that it is reasonably probable—in my own mind I have discarded all theory of how this sort of thing could have been done—it is not reasonable that it was done by a stab—the appearances presented by a stab would be such as those that have been described by Mr. Savory in his report—the appearance described are equally consistent with the theory suggested by the knife drawn down by the man's own hand and stabbing himself—Mr. Canton has assumed that a person was advancing towards him with a knife and the arm uplifted—I account for the knife getting to that place by his seizing with his left hand the uplifted arm of the other person—everything is in such obscurity, I cannot suggest any theory by which that wound could have happened—I was first consulted three weeks ago—we consulted this morning—I have declined to entertain any theory up to this time—I mean to say I formed no decided opinion as to the reasons that led me to those conclusions—I am quite certain I never said I could not support Dr. Canton's theory—it is as consistent that she stabbed the deceased as that she did not—there is nothing unreasonable or improbable, so far as the medical evidence goes, that the prisoner stabbed him.

Re-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. I quite believe that this was the result of accident—there is no pretence for saying I do not support Mr. Canton's theory, not one word has passed from me to the contrary—I have had twenty-five years' experience as a medical man.

JOHN GAY , F.R.C.S. I am chief surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital, and a Member of the College of Surgeons—about three weeks ago I directed my attention to this case—I think this wound was more probably the result of accident, and more easily explainable as such than an intended stab—I speak from the medical evidence only—I think there is great difficulty in accounting for the kind of wound, if it had been produced by a stab—if produced in that way, I think you must assume the person stabbed must have been in a fixed position—it would have been exceedingly difficult, in my opinion, the person being a free agent, to have driven a knife of that kind through the integuments beneath the sixth rib into the heart, and made such a wound as has been described—I assume that the deceased was in a fixed position, and that as far as any voluntary movement is concerned, he must have been fixed—there was no jagging or notching of the edges of the wound where it penetrated the chest, and that must have been, I believe, necessarily the case, had a person been in the condition to have been a voluntary agent—in puncturing the chest of a patient, it is essential that he should be kept most quiet and still in order to drive the instrument into the chest—the slightest movement would almost frustrate the act—I think these diagrams are very at indeed to mislead persons with regard to the facility with which an instrument could be driven into the chest—they are manifestly wrong here, the ribs are represented separated from each other, much larger than they usually are—in almost every man the space between the ribs is the same—I have no intention of imputing anything to Mr. Baker or Mr. Savory, but these photographs do not represent the state of things in a human being when alive—I agree with Dr. Canton's theory, that it was caused by the deceased falling.

COURT. Q. The immediate cause of death was the penetration of the pericardium? A. Of the heart—I think when the body fell it had no control over itself, and by that means it forced the knife, I think, into the heart, causing its insertion into the apex of the heart—in my judgment it must have been caused by accident—I am quite sure if it had been otherwise there would have been some sign about the wound, showing it was jagged and notched, and not such a clean wound—if this had been a deliberate blow, the deceased must have fallen in the direction the force was given—he would have fallen backwards—I think it consistent that he might have taken the knife out of the wound himself.

Cross-examined by MR. GIFFARD. I have not had much experience of wounds to the heart—I think it possible that the deceased raised his left arm to protect himself, and that she stabbed him with one clear blow—I have considered that hypothesis—it has not been discussed, but I have turned it over in my mind—there is a surgical fact which renders it unreasonable or improbable that the prisoner stabbed the deceased with one clean stab, in one continuous direction, and withdrew the weapon; the moment the wound was felt he would have shrunk or moved, and under those circumstances there would have been great difficulty in carrying the thrust on so as to make a clean thrust—as far as volition is concerned, it must have been a fixed position—the difficulty of getting an instrument through such a small space is impossible—if a person was taken off his

guard, you might stab him in the way described—the walls of the chest of a thin person are easier penetrated than a powerful person's, because you would not have so much tissue to go through—a good deal would depend upon the thinness or thickness of the weapon—I think if I wanted to stab a man between the sixth and seventh ribs, there would be a difficulty—the man would move involuntarily, and that would get rid of the blow—it would be oblique to pass between those ribs—the difficulty of hitting the inter-costal space is very great—from the commencement of the orifice of the wound, to the apex of the heart, is one uniform line; that leads my mind to the conclusion as to the probability of the fall having completed what Mr. Canton's theory suggests in a struggle begun—in falling against some fixed body, it might have been done; by giving some impetus to the knife in the fall against some fixed body—supposing the knife had gone through the first two inches of its course, it would have been very difficult to have altered its direction; the ribs would have confined the blade—that would not have made the wound jagged, if it had been forced against some other body in falling—the wound is from 2 in. to 3 in. under the arm pit, and that has been the mistake throughout the inquiry—the perforation of the clothes would not give the precise point of the wound—the evidence of the wound does not correspond with the clothing—how the knife entered is difficult to say; I would leave that to Mr. Canton's theory—I think it possible the knife might be in the hands of two persons, and that they might have accidentally fallen.

Re-examined by MR. SERJEANT PARRY. It is purely conjecture how the knife entered—it is the most difficult question I ever had to deal with—the size of the wound, between the ribs, would be enlarged as a matter of course; not by the cut itself, but by the muscular structures—the wound is quite smooth—if it had been inflicted by the man falling upon the knife, it would have been as it is.

MR. ECCLES (re-examined.) These are the clothes taken off the deceased at the time.

MR. BAKER (re-examined.) The ligaments in the photograph are as they are in your body.

MR. SAVORY (re-examined). Not a single ligament as in nature has been touched.


The Prisoner. "I have only to say that I am innocent, and that if I had been guilty, in my own mind no punishment could be too great for me, if I did that to him who for so many years has been all in all to me. I left my husband for him. Mr. Moon knew me when I was in society, and in my own family. Upon my husband leaving me, he wished me to get a divorce. I returned to my husband at Boulogne to save him from a divorce. I returned turned to this country again, and my husband followed and broke up everything in the house, saying that all I wanted was a divorce, and that he would not have it. Mr. Turquand wrote letters to my husband at the dictation of Mr. Moon. After that his family persuaded him to leave me. He did leave me. I went to John Moon and asked him to give Frederick Moon a letter for me, and I would never see him again. He said 'No,' and that Sir Francis had determined that no letters should be sent. In the meantime Frederick Moon returned, and it was agreed that I should belong to him; not to live together, but to belong to him; and I have all these years belonged to him. This last year or eighteen months he was always unhappy. He thought he did not see enough of me. He then proposed

that I should live with him altogether. He was very unhappy. He then settled that he would be with me. We have been most happy. He was most kind. His whole consideration was my happiness, and I could not have done him an injury. He tried to take the knife from me. I am not sure whether he got it or not. We struggled and fell. I thought at first that I must be the one injured. I found blood on me; warm blood. I said "Oh, Fred., Fred., what have you done?"Then I found, of course, that it was him, and not myself. I tried all I could to do something to stop it. First of all I applied cold water. Then I remembered that cold water produced blood instead of stopping it. Then I sent for ice and tried that, and then the doctors came. Then, my Lord, you spoke to the Jury that the servants heard a scream, and that there were only so many steps dividing the kitchen from the dining-room. There are two nights of steps; I should think the first one about twelve, the other one about six. Mr. Eccles can answer that. You spoke of the scream. The fact is, the bell rung violently, and the servant, Mary Hale, rang the call-bell. That has been in dispute; as to Mr. Pickford's evidence, you must know I could not say he had broken a blood-vessel. I have nothing more to say, my Lord."

Eight Years' Penal Servitude.

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, July 13th, 1871.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-553
VerdictsNot Guilty > no evidence

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553. RICHARD FREDERKING (31) , Unlawfully pledging seven warrants for the delivery of goods, and converting them to his own use; and also obtaining, by means of false pretences, a bill of exchange for 10l. 5s., with intent to defraud.

MR. F. H. LEWIS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.


FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, July 13th, 1871.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-554
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

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554. JOHN STEVENS (19), and HENRY HOLLIER (12) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Charles Woodcock, and stealing therein one pair of sugar tongs, and other articles, his property; to which STEVENS PLEADED GUILTY .

MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.

CHARLES WAITE (City Police Sergeant 25). About 3.15 on Saturday morning, 17th June, I was on duty in Smithfield—I saw two men resembling the prisoners leave the prosecutor's house, and speak to Policeman 283 in Hosier Lane, about twenty yards from the house—I ran across the road, called to the constable and whistled to him, and beckoned him towards me across—Hastings and I went back to the house—I called to the barman' "George!"—receiving no answer, I walked in, saw the place in confusion, one till on the counter and two tills on another, and letters strewed about on the floor—I rang the bell, and the landlord came down—about 11 o'clock in the morning I went to Mr. Clay's, in Bread Street Hill, and saw Hollier—I went to 1, George Street, Spitalfields, and there saw Stevens—I called him on one side—I said "I am a police sergeant, and charge you with being concerned with another man in committing a burglarv at a public-house near Smithfield"—he said he knew nothing about it—I took him to

the station, placed him in the dock with the other prisoner, and asked him his name and address—he gave the same address as Hollier—he was asked if he knew Hollier—he said "I never saw him before in my life"—Hollier, upon being asked to account for his living with Stevens and not knowing him, said "Well, I have seen him, that is I know him very well, but not to know much about him."

Stevens. Q. Did you see me come out of the house? A. I saw a man resembling you—I am not positively certain it was you—I was not near enough to see your face.

HENRY HASTINGS (City Policeman 283). On Saturday morning, I was on duty in Hosier Lane—about 3.15, Hollier spoke to me—I have known him for years—I went to the prosecutor's house with Waite, and found the place ransacked—the prisoners are the men who spoke to me—I had known Stevens by sight before—no other person spoke to me before the sergeant came up.

Stevens. Q. Did I speak to you? A. Yes, you said "Good morning."

WILLIAM WOODCOCK . I am landlord of the Crown public-house, Smithfield—on the night before the robbery, I had closed my house at 12.15—I am sure the street door was locked, I closed it myself, it is a spring lock—I bolted the door as well—I am particular about it, if I find it shakes I bolt it at the bottom and the top—I examined my premises—we examined the cellar flap to see if it was possible for them to get in that way; it had not been removed—they must have been concealed in the house, and then broken out—these things (produced) are mine—this letter could not have found its way into the prisoner's custody without it was stolen—I missed spectacles, and several minor things—the spirit bottles were not disturbed—I can't say if they had taken anything from the barrels.

Stevens. Q. Did you ever see me in your house? A. Your face is familiar to me—I cannot swear positively.

Stevens's Defence. When the constable came, I gave him my right name and address. I did not do it. I know nothing about it.


STEVENS*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

HOLLIER— Ten Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-555
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment > other institution; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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555. GEORGE ELLIOTT (19), and JAMES COOK (11) , Stealing divers post letters, the property of Albert Alfred Tindall and another.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

ARTHUR RICH . I am clerk to Mr. Wood, of 15, King William Street, Strand, a watchmaker—on the morning of 8th May, I saw Elliott about 8.30, leaning against a post at the end of King William Street, opposite the Ophthalmic Hospital—I saw him after that, at 8.45—he had a boy with him then—I cannot swear to the boy, but I have no doubt about the man—he was standing at the door, and the boy was drawing a piece of paper from under the door of 20, King William Street—he then took it up by the four corners, put it under his coat, and they walked away together—Elliott was standing by the boy's side, watching—I picked out the man from eight or ten others—I identified the boy from five or six others at the Guildhall.

Cross-examined. Q. You say you cannot identify the boy? A. No.

WALTER HENRY WOOD . I am a son of Mr. Wood, 15, King William Street—on the morning of 18th May, I saw Elliott standing at the corner

of the street, at 8.30—he came down the street, and met a boy—I cannot swear that that is the boy—I saw the boy stoop down at No. 20, and draw a good-sized piece of paper from under the door—he gathered it np by the four corners, and put them under his coat—the boy and man then walked away—No. 20, is right opposite my father's—while the boy was doing this, the man was watching up and down the street.

OBED PICKERING . I am a letter-carrier, in the employment of the General Post Office—I saw both prisoners that morning—I am sure it is the boy—I first saw them at about 8.40—I saw them loitering about by the corner of Chandos Street, opposite the Ophthalmic Hospital—directly they saw me enter the street, they walked away—I saw them after, at the corner of Agar Street, watching—I picked the man out from seven or eight others, at Guildhall—I had to identify Cook before the policeman would take him in custody—I put between thirty and forty letters into my bag—I did not count them.

ALBERT ALFRED TINDALL . I am a publisher, at 20, King William Street—the method of receiving letters was in a box, but the box would not hold them all at times, and it was very often forced open in consequence of the over-crowding of letters, and we allowed the letters to fall on the floor—we had had complaints from customers about the crowding, and we removed the box, and letters fell on the floor—we put up another box on the Monday, three days previous to this—I am sure that new box was there the day before this occurrence—on 18th May, the box had been separated from its holder by a piece of wood or strong instrument, from the outside—I received twelve letters that morning—I counted them—there is a space under my door of about half an inch—I had seen the prisoners three mornings previously—I watched from the drawing-room for three different mornings—one morning I saw a boy trying with a stick—I can swear to the boy at different times trying to get the letters with a stick—I have seen both prisoners together—I picked the man out from several others at Guildhall.

GUILTY .—ELLIOTT also PLEADED GUILTY* to a former conviction at Wandsworth, in July, 1870, in the name of George McRae.

COOK— One Month's Imprisonment , and Five Years in a Reformatory .

ELLIOTT— Seven Years Penal Servitude.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-556
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown

Related Material

556. JAMES THOMAS (34), SAMUEL LOWE (24), and JOSEPH PARRY (25) , Feloniously killing and slaying Joseph Guest PARRY was also charged upon the Coroner's Inquisition, with the like offence.

MR. HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS appeared for Lowe.

RICHARD HAMPTON . I live at 14, Grace's Alley, Whitechapel, and am a boot-maker—on the night of 12th June, at 12.30, I was in my shop—about 12.40, I went to my mother's, next door—five men came in—the prisoners are three of them—they had supper—after they had finished, I asked them to pay—they said "We were called in by a friend up stairs"—I called the friend, as they called him, down stairs, Murphy, who said he did not know them—the prisoners said he was not the friend, it was the tall one who asked them to sup—they tried to get out of the house; I tried to prevent them—they eventually got out of the house by the deceased opening the door for them—before they went, they smashed the windows of the doors, and one of them struck my brother—deceased and I followed them—he was my cousin—I came up with them; they turned round—I did not have

time to say anything to them before I was knocked down by two of them—I could not recognize which of the four knocked me down, as it was very dark—I did not see anything done to my cousin—after I was knocked down they all ran away—I ran to my cousin, he was lying on his back—I looked in his face; he was breathing—I did not see the men go into the Sailors' Home—I saw Thomas afterwards at the Home, about 3ft. or 4 ft. inside the door—I recognized him as one of the men who had been in the shop—I cannot say which man attacked me, and which my cousin.

Cross-examined. My mother keeps a fried fish shop, sells stewed eels, and baked potatoes—there were women of the town there—I did not know the prisoners were sailors just come off a voyage—I might have said they were fighting—I don't believe the prisoners said when we came up, "Are you going to fight?"and offered to do so, and that we said we would do the same—I did not see stones thrown—I could not say I was able to see them had they been thrown.

HENRY HAMPTON . I live at 6, Grace's Alley—on 13th June, I was with my brother, and the deceased, in Well Street—I saw the prisoners in my mother's house that evening—they had supper, and would not pay for it—they rushed out of the house—I, with my brother and the deceased, followed them—I saw Thomas take the deceased by the waist and legs, and lift him up, and drop him down on his head, and while on the ground kick him—I sprung upon his back—he threw me off—I called out "Murder!"and "Police!"—they then ran towards the Sailors' Home—I am certain about Thomas—there was somebody else besides Thomas, but I could not see them—I cannot swear to the other prisoners—I was near my cousin at the time he was attacked—Thomas kicked him on his head, twice or three times, while he was down.

Thomas. Q. Did you not throw stones? A. No—I did when you was running towards my cousin—I did not see you fighting with the first witness—the gas was not put out in the shop—I did not see you offer my brother a shilling in the shop, or see him knock it out of your hand.

Re-examined. I threw one stone.

GEORGINA HAMPTON . I am the mother of the last two witnesses, and live at 5, Grace's Alley—the deceased was my nephew—on 13th June the prisoners were in my shop—they had supper, and refused to pay—I did not see the occurrence—I reached my nephew, and found him quite insensible, just breathing—he was taken to the station on a stretcher—he breathed about three times, and then died.

Thomas to R. HAMPTON. Q. Did you not put the gas out when I offered to pay for the supper? A. The gas was never put out while I was there—you were in the room, smashing the windows, and trying to get out—I did not take off my coat, neither did I see a shilling.

FREDERICK MOORE (Policeman H 10). I was on duty on 13th June, in Grace's Alley—I heard cries of "Police!"—I ran up to the top of Grace's Alley—I passed four men standing at the door of the Sailors' Home—I cannot recognize them—I ran up to the deceased—R. Hampton cried out "There they are, stop them"—I ran to the Sailors' Home, just at that moment the door was opened, and four men rushed in—I went in, and saw Thomas standing at the door—I touched him on the shoulder—he said "What do you want me for, I never saw the man before"—later in the day I went with Hampton to the Home, and took Low in custody.

JEREMIAH ROBINS (Policeman H 66). I took Lowe—he had been told

the charge before—he said "Is the man dead, constable?—I said "He is dead"—he said "I suppose I shall be hung for it; there is another man as bad as me, or worse, I shall not take all the blame on my own back, I shall round on the other; it is through the others I got into this; he put himself up to be a fighting man, and he has challenged everyone else."

GEORGE B. PHILLIPS . I am a surgeon—I was called to the station at Leman Street, and found deceased there, dead—there were marks of violence about him—his upper lip was very much contused—there were cut bruises about his forehead, and on the upper part of his head—there was a contused wound communicating with a fracture of the skull at the back part of the head—my impression is that he had received a blow upon the month with a fist, and had fallen on the back of his head.

COURT. Q. Would it be caused by that fall? A. Yes—I made a post-mortem examination, and found a wound at the back of the head communicating with a laceration of the brain, which would have been caused by hit coming into contact with the pavement—I cannot say how he fell; but the appearance led me to the conclusion that he had received a blow about the mouth, which had caused him to foil—the cause of death being undoubtedly fracture of the skull.

Thomas. He brought it on himself; we had a row in the shop first; he was not satisfied with that, we were going to the Home, and the boy followed up, throwing stones. We turned round on him, and I was fighting the first witness; I never saw the deceased at all.


THOMAS— GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-557
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

557. THOMAS HALE (54), Feloniously killing and slaying William Cuthew; he was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution.

ELIZABETH CUTHEW . I live at 32, Commercial Road, Lambeth—I had a child named William, about nine and a half years old; he was brought home at 6.30 in the evening of 30th May, bleeding profusely from his legs.

JANE TAYLOR . I am the wife of Reuben Taylor, of Henry Place, Cornwall Road—I was at the corner of Cornwall Road, I saw the prisoner turn the corner very quick, driving a horse and cart—a woman and child were crossing at the time—somebody came up and pulled the woman out of the road, the cart shaved her shawl—the child tried to get out of the way, but it was too late, the cart knocked it down and ran over it—the prisoner took up the reins and hit the horse with them, and went faster than ever—they were in the middle of the road when struck—if the woman had not been pulled away, she would have been pulled under as well.

Prisoner. Q. When the man ran after me, did I not stop directly? A. You got away some distance first.

JURY. Q. Could he have seen anybody going against his wheels? A. Yes—it was a short cart with two wheels.

ROBERT BOUCHER . I live at 41, Martin's Street, Fryer Street—I was standing at the corner of Cornwall Road, and I saw the prisoner come driving along the Commercial Road at a trotting pace; he turned the corner of Commercial Road—I shouted to him to atop after the accidents—five or six of us halloaed out to him before he touched the child—he ran over the child and still kept on driving—I ran after him and brought the hone and

cart back—about 100 yards from where it happened I stopped him—he would have got away had I not run after him—I had a good sharp run—he was sitting on the front—he could see if there was anyone in the way—if I had been driving the cart, I am sure I should have seen the child.

Prisoner. Q. Did I not pull up when you told me I had run over a child? A. You did.

FREDERICK MEEKHAM (Policeman N K. 26). The prisoner was given into my custody—he was drunk.

Prisoner. Q. Did I not say "I can walk very well, I am not drunk?" A. You said you were not drunk, but you were, I could see it.

ABRAHAM BAKER . I am a carman, of the Ship Tower, Commercial Road, Lambeth—I was standing at my shop, and saw the prisoner driving as fast as he could—I saw him turn this corner—he did not alter his speed—he was not using the least ordinary caution—anything but that—he was not so drunk but probably he could walk—he was three parts drunk—I saw the child run over.

Prisoner. Q. Where did you see me hit the horse? A. In the Commercial Road, with the reins—I did not know what it was for—there was about a ton weight in the cart.

WILLIAM JOSEPH RICHARD RAY . I am house surgeon at Weaminster Hospital—I recollect the child being brought in nearly fainting from loss of blood, and very much collapsed, with his left leg crushed below the knee, and much lacerated—the right leg had a wound 8 inches long at the back of it—the left leg was removed—it had been run over, to all appearance—he died the next afternoon from exhaustion.

Prisoner's Defence. I was not drunk. I did not see, the child.

SERGEANT STEGGALS. I took the charge—the prisoner was drunk when brought to the station.

The prisoner received a good character.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-558
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

558. HENRY FRIER (44) , Feloniously carnally knowing and abusing Rosa Snow, a girl under the age of ten years.

MR. MORGAN THOMAS conducted the Prosecution.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-559
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

559. AMOS THURLOW (37) , Rape on Emily Sarah Jackson; Second Count—Common assault. MR. MORGAN THOMAS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ST. AUBYN the Defence.

MR. THOMAS offered no evidence on the First Count, the prisoner was therefore charged on the Second.


THIRD COURT.—Friday, July, 14th, 1871.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-560
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

560. CHARLES DE BADDELEY (41), and SARAH DE BADDELEY (37), Unlawfully supplying a certain noxious drug, to wit, Ergot of Rye, knowing that it was intended to procure the miscarriage of a woman.

MESSRS. POLAND, G. S. GRIFFITHS, and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution;

and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS contended that there was no case to go to the Jury, the application for the drug being only a contrivance of the police to ascertain what business was carried on by the prisoners, there being really no person in existence who intended to take it; and that the police and the aunt were accomplices

and required corroboration. MR. GRIFFITHS submitted that the question was what was passing in the prisoner's minds at the time they supplied the drug, and that if they believed that it was intended to be used for the purpose of causing a miscarriage, they would be guilty, just as a person would be convicted of forging the name of another person not in existence; and, further, that to make the police accomplices, it must be shown that they had agreed to commit the offence; whereas they had agreed with the woman to detect crime if possible. THE COURT, (having consulted LORD CHIEF JUSTICE BOVILL and MR. BARON CHANNELL), overruled the objections.

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

THIRD COURT.—Saturday, July 15, 1871.

For the case of Agnes Norman, tried this day, See Surrey Cases.


Before-Lord Chief Justice Bovill.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-561
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

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.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-562
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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562. HENRY SULLIVAN (20) , Stealing one box and two keys, the property of Harry Edmund Dolphin.

MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence.

WILLIAM FLOWER . I am servant to Mr. Harry Edmund Dolphin, a lieutenant in the Royal Horse Artillery—he has his quarters in the barracks at Woolwich—on the afternoon of 14th June I missed the key of the quarters from the top of the door, and in the evening I missed a cash box—there was nothing in it, I believe—there was also a latch key taken away—the things were shown to me afterwards, and I identified them.

JOSIAH TURNER (Woolwich Policeman 35). I apprehended the prisoner on 22nd June, in Artillery Place, Woolwich—I searched him and found three keys—I found the cash box at his mother's house—he gave me his address at 4, Wentworth Street, Plumstead—I. went there and found the cash box—his name was scratched on the top of it.

Cross-examined. He gave his address without any hesitation.

WILLIAM FLOWER (Re-examined). This is my master's cash box, and the one that was taken away—the name was not on it when I saw it last.

Cross-examined. The key was taken from the top of the door—there are a great number of women about the barracks, passing in and out.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "The keys were given me by a female on Saturday night. I don't wish to say anything about the cash box.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-563
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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563. HENRY SULLIVAN was again indicted for stealing one cap, one cigar case, and one tobacco pouch, of Robert Hugh Wallace.

MARK MULHOLLAND . I am servant to Lieutenant Robert Hugh Wallace, of the Royal Artillery, at Woolwich—on 18th June I missed a forage cap from my master's quarters—I saw it safe, on Saturday night the 17th, at 7 o'clock—on the Monday I missed a tobacco pouch and a red morocco cigar case—I have seen a tobacco pouch since at the Police Court—this is it (produced) it is like the one I missed—when I went to my master's quarters on the Saturday night, they were in the, usual state.

Cross-examined. Lieutenant Wallace, is at Woolwich I don't know why he is not here—I don't know whether he has seen the pouch.

COURT. Q. How do you know the pouch is not in your master's pockets? A. I have searched them all, and I know it is not—it is not at his quarters.

CHARLOTTE WILLS . I am single, and I live at 6, Marshall Grove, Woolwich—I know the prisoner—I saw him on Woolwich Common on Saturday,

17th June, about 5 o'clock in the afternoon—he left me, and I met him again, and again I was with him till 9 o'clock—he told me he had been home to have his tea—he came back again about 7 o'clock—it came on to rain, and we went underneath the trees for shelter—he left me there and went up the steps to go to the officers' quarters—he came back a short time afterwards with an officer's cap, a pouch, and a cigar case—I think there were some cigars in it, but I would not be positive—I asked him where he got the cap from—he said a friend of his, in the officers' quarters, had lent it to him, as it was his sister's birthday, and he was going to act a charade at home.

Cross-examined. I first saw him about 5 o'clock—I met him on the common, by chance—I am a respectable girl—I went up there on a message from my sister—I went to Nightingale Street, to get a parcel for her—I was with the prisoner from 5 o'clock to 9 o'clock—it was not raining all the time; it was not raining when he went to his tea—I was going home when it came on to rain, but we stood up—I had known the prisoner for a long time—he used to come down to my house, and take me out—I thought him a very respectable young man—I suppose he was courting me—I did not see any women about when he came out with the cap—I did not see him speak to three women—there was an old lady and a young lady standing under the shelter, but he never said anything to them—he was about 50 yards from the officers' quarters when he showed me the cap—he took it from a large coat he had on—he took the things out, and showed them to me voluntarily, or I should not have seen them.

WOOLF STACKVIS . On Saturday 17th June, someone came to my shop, 5, Artillery Place, Woolwich, about 10 o'clock, with a forage cap, with lace round it—I have a bit of the lace here—the cap is destroyed—they are no use, we only buy them for the old lace—he asked me what I would give for the cap—he looked very respectable, and I gave him 3s., 6d. for it—I did not ask him where he got it—I was just in the act of closing—he was so wrapped up on the Saturday night that I could not identify him again, except by his voice.

Cross-examined. He had the appearance of an officer—officers come and sell their old caps to me sometimes—it is not a very common thing, but it is done occasionally—I had no doubt that he was an officer—the price for a new forage cap would be 18s., or 1l. 1s., and the lace, when old, is worth 3s., 6d.—that is the full value, I assure you—he came alone.

JOSIAH TURNER . I apprehended the prisoner on the 22nd—I went to his address—I found the tobacco pouch in the cupboard in his room—I received a forage cap from Sergeant-Major Richey, which he bad received from Mr. Stock vis, but not relating to this charge.

The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "On Saturday night, I met three women and a man, standing under shelter from the rain, at the officers' quarters, and one of the women took the cap, and asked me to go and sell it She said one, of the officers had given it to her, who had not paid her, and I took it to Mr. Stookvis and: sold it and gave her the money.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-564
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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564. HENRY SULLIVAN was again indicted for stealing one cap and one sword knot, of Hardress O'Grady.

EDWARD WALLER . I am servant to Lieutenant O'Grady, of the Royal Artillery—on 21st June, I missed a cap and a sword knot from my master's

sitting-room—I had seen them safe on the previous evening—this is the cap (produced)—this sword knot is like the one I lost, but I should not like to swear to it—I am able to swear to the cap.

Cross-examined. The lace has been repaired on the cap, and you can see where it has been turned, and a new piece put in—my master is on duty at Woolwich.

WOOLF STOOKVIS . I am a general dealer, and live at Artillery Place—this cap was brought to my place, and I gave it up to the police afterwards—I could not swear to the man who brought it—I heard the prisoner speak, and identified him by his voice—I did not recognize him by his appearance—I heard him speak when the policeman brought him in, and I knew him by his voice—the cap was brought on Tuesday evening, the 20th, and the prisoner was brought to my place on the Thursday morning following—of course I heard him speak when he brought the cap, and judging from his voice, to the best of my belief, the prisoner is the man—I don't say positively he is the man—I gave him 4s., 6d. for the cap and sword knot—he said he had some more things to sell, but he did not like to send his servant out with them, that he did not doubt the servant's honesty, but he would rather bring it himself the next day—he did not come the next day.

Cross-examined. The first time the man came it was a very wet night, and he had his features his with his great coat—I was in the act of shutting up, and I did not notice him much.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-565
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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565. HENRY SULLIVAN was again indicted for stealing one cap, one jacket, and one set of studs, the property of Edward Kensington.

JOHN CLEWS . I am servant to Lieutenant Kensington, of the Royal Artillery—on Wednesday morning, 21st June, I put a cap and jacket in my master's cupboard—this is the cap, and the jacket (produced)—I can swear to the cap by the lining—it is rather a fancy lining—I don't know whether there is any other cap like it—I can swear to the coat by the tabs on the collar—they are official tabs—I don't know that every officer has them; no one but my master, that I know of—I brushed it on the Wednesday morning, and put it in the cupboard about 8 o'clock—the next morning I went to fetch the coat and cap, at my master's request—that was about 7 o'clock—he was going on duty at 8 o'clock—they were both gone—I also missed a set of studs, which were in the cupboard—I missed a pocket-handkerchief; it was in the coat pocket—this is the one—it was in the coat pocket—I felt it when I folded the coat up—the handkerchief has my master's name upon it, "No. 12, E. Kensington, 69"—I have seen them by sending them to the wash—the prisoner was apprehended on Thursday, 22nd, and the things were shown to me on the following Wednesday, at the Police Court.

Cross-examined. The wife of Gunner Sharp washes for my master—I don't, know where she lives—she is not here—I don't know whether she washes for the prisoner.

JOSIAH TURNER . I found this pocket-handkerchief in, the prisoner's pocket—I asked him about it, and he said lie would answer no questions—he gave his address, 7, Whitworth Road—I went there, found this cap and coat between the bed and the mattress, in his room—his mother was present when I found them—she pointed out the room as his room.

Cross-examined. I had not been to the house before—the mother pointed the room out as his room.

The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never stole the studs,"

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-566
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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566. ALICK KEANE (25) , Feloniously ravishing, and carnally knowing, Maria Bates.

MESSRS. BESLEY and THORNE COLE conducted the Prosecution; and

MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence.

GUILTY Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-567
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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567. GEORGE WHEELER (44) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 103l., of Henry William Waller, his master.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-568
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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568. AGNES NORMAN (15), was indicted for the Wilful Murder of Jessie Jane Beer.

MESSRS. POLAND, BEASLEY, GRIFFITHS, and PEARS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MORGAN THOMAS and MR. ST. AUBYN the Defence.

MR. POLAND, in his opening speech stated that he should produce evidence as to the prisoner's disposition to commit crime. THE COURT considered that evidence of a tendency or habit to commit crime could not be given, nor evidence that animals died during the time the prisoner was in the service of various people as a domestic servant; and after consulting LORD CHIEF JUSTICE BOVILL and MR. BARON CHANNEL, said, "The learned Judges whom I have consulted are of opinion such evidence must be excluded. As to the cases of unaccountable death of children under her care, I shall admit that evidences, and reserve the point."

JOHN WILLIAM BEER . I lived at 58, Newington Butts, at the time of this occurrence—I am a dealer in jewellery—on 4th of April, 1870, the prisoner came into my service as a general servant, to look after my children—I had three children, Arthur Samuel, aged six years; Alfred James, three years, and the deceased, fifteen months the day she was buried—the prisoner was in my service one week—on 7th April I and my wife went out at about 2.45 in the afternoon, leaving the prisoner in charge of my children—she was the only servant—they were in perfect good health, the deceased as well—she never had any illness in her life—we returned at 11.45 at night—we went together into the sitting-room, where the prisoner was apparently asleep—there was a very large fire—she sat close to the fire, in the arm chair—she woke up by our entering the room—none of the children were in the room with her—I believe my wife spoke to her about the children—she said they were quite well—after I had been in the room a few minutes I heard a screaming from one of my children up stairs—it was usual for the children's bedroom to be locked after they had gone to bed—I had several lodgers in the house—the key was kept in the sitting-room—the bedroom was over the sitting-room—we occupied the shop, sitting-room, and bedroom over it—the bed-room was five or six steps from the ground—the sitting-room and shop were on the ground-floor—my wife, I, and the children occupy the bedroom—the servant had another—I got the key; I don't know who handed it to me—I went up to the bedroom, and found the door locked—my lodgers have nothing to do with my apartments—when I got in I found my boy, Alfred James, lying on the floor; he had fallen out of bed—I picked him up, and placed him in bed with his brother, in the bed from which he had fallen—

they had their bed together in my room—there was no light in the room, but a lamp outside gave a glimmering light, sufficient to see anyone in the room—I turned round to see the deceased, wondering she had not woke up by the noise—she was in the bed I and my wife occupy—I found her close to the wall, lying on her back, with her clothes thrown off her—the bed was close to the wall—her head was near the pillow—I reached over and caught hold of her legs—her head was about three inches from the wall—it did not touch it—the bed was on the mattress, it was narrower, and did not completely cover the mattress—her head was a little higher than the remainder of her body—the mattress was nearly touching the wall—there was not room for her head to get between—the bed sloped off—there was no crevice in which her head could get fixed—she had her night-gown on—the bed-clothes looked as if they had been kicked off—she was in the habit of kicking off the bed-clothes—she was very strong in her limbs and her bodily powers, and able to deal with any complication of the bed-clothes over her—I caught hold of her by the leg, and pulled her towards me, and said, "My poor child is dead;" she was perfectly cold—I could tell by the dead weight that she was dead—my wife came up, and took her down stairs, from my arm into the sitting-room—I followed her; the prisoner came down, and stood very unconcerned, as if nothing had occurred—I sent, and Dr. Williams came—he pronounced her dead—I asked the prisoner when she last saw it alive; she said "Half-past ten, in the middle of the bed;" I said "I don't believe it;" she made no reply—there was an Inquest on 13th April—the bed-clothes consisted of a sheet, a single blanket, and a Macella counterpane, very light—the child was never subject to fits—it had recovered about six weeks from a slight hooping cough—Mr. Cottrell, his wife, and one child, and Mrs. Brands were my lodgers—Mr. Cottrelf's child was six or seven years old—they occupied a first floor above my room—Mr. Broster, his wife, and three grown-up daughters occupied the second floor—the third floor was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Grains, and a grown-up daughter—their occupations were distinct from each other, and my part of the house—six steps led up to my bedroom, and were part of the general flight up stairs—everybody would have to pass my bedroom—there is only one key to my bedroom—I always desired to have the door looked, and the key brought down after the children went to bed.

Cross-examined by MR. THOMAS. Before Good Friday, the day this happened, the prisoner had been with me three days—her wages were 3s., a week, and food, and lodging—when we left home the children were in her sole charge for nine hours—she is as much a woman as my wife—I can't say she was feigning sleep when we went in—she got up about 8.30 in the morning—I remember saying before the Coroner, in speaking of how I found the deceased: "I cannot say positively, not having a light, her actual position; as I raised her, she appeared to be on her back or body on the bed, with her head between that and the wall"—it was a full-sized iron bedstead—the mattress touched the wall, the bed did not—there was a space between the bed and the wall, of three or four inches, making a slight hollow space—her head was lying partly on the bed and partly on the mattress—the iron part of the bedstead would be uncovered near the wall—her head was lower than her legs—the verdict before the Coroner was "Accidental Death"—I said at the Inquest "I have not seen any want of feeling on Norman's part towards the deceased or any other of the children"—I never did see any, and should probably say so now—Dr. Williams said

that the child had been dead about two hours and a half—I can't swear I heard the prisoner say she put the children to bed about 7.30.

Re-examined. I caught hold of the child's leg to pull it to me—I could not say, positively, that the head not was touching the wall—it might have been—there was light enough from the street lamp to enable me to see that her head was as I describe it.

ROSINA BEER . I am the wife of the last witness—the prisoner entered my service on 4th April—a person next door, Rosina Lloyd, recommended her to me—the prisoner said she had been in Mrs. Gardner's service, Stock-well Park Road, twelve months ago, and since then she had been working at Army work—she said Mrs. Gardner had gone to Scotland—I thought it no use applying for a character—I was rather prepossessed with the prisoner, she seemed so very clean and respectable—I had three children, all well—the deceased never had any illness; only slight hooping cough—I wanted no doctor for that—she at this time had been well six, seven, or eight weeks—she was a lively child—on Good Friday, at 2 o'clock, she was playing with the kitten—she did not eat her dinner—it was salt fish, and she gave it to the kitten, and fell over the plate, but did not hurt herself—we went out about 2.45—I said "Be sure and take charge of the children," and she asked if she might have needlework, and I said "Yes, I don't want you to do any work, but take care of the children"—we returned about 11.45 or 11.50—we went into the sitting-room—the prisoner was there, in front of the fire; she appeared to be dozing—my going into the room probably roused her—I said "How are the children, Agnes?"—she said "Oh, very well, ma'am, Jessy was rather cross in the park, and I could not keep her from going to sleep"—I had told her never to let them sleep out of doors, in case of accidents—I said "Perhaps she is not very well," but I knew nothing serious could be the matter with her—she said "The man has not brought the beer"—I said "You had better make me some tea, I am so thirsty"—while she was making tea, we heard the second little boy scream out—I said to ray husband, "Run up stairs, there's one of the children fallen out"—he got the key, and went up stairs—she was getting a light when he called out "My girl is dead"—I rushed up, and he had her quite dead in his arms—the child was brought down stairs, and I put her feet in hot water, and went for a doctor—the prisoner seemed reluctant to go up stairs with the light—she went up when she heard that the child was dead—she passed no remarks whatever—she was not agitated, she never offered to look at the child afterwards—she said she last saw it alive at 10.30, lying on its left side, the same as when she put it to bed—Dr. Williams showed me marks on the lower part of the child's lower lip, about the width of two or three teeth—the gums were perfectly white, as if bloodless—the child had all its front teeth—there were teeth top and bottom, opposite the mark on the lip—the castor would prevent the bedstead coming close to the wall—she was a big girl—there was not sufficient room for her head to have got between the bed and the wall—her feet were towards the middle of the bed—a quantity of wet had run down on to the palliasse and then on to the floor—it was not dry by the morning—it had come from the child's mouth—it made a pool about 6 in. on the surface of the floor—this was between 2 and 3 o'clock the same morning—the child was never subject to fits.

Cross-examined by MR. ST. AUBYN. The child was very restless, and wakeful at nights, for its age—it usually kicked the clothes off—I found

it at times in all sorts of shapes and positions in the bed—I have known it fall off the bed—I have known it to get off the bed of itself—it could not get on to the bed again, not if it had tumbled off—the prisoner did everything I told her to do when we came home this night, and always did—she was quite indifferent, and did not express any sorrow, and looked on more as if it was in her usual work—all the children usually went to bed at 7 o'clock—the deceased was teething—I never gave her fish to eat before—she ate the egg-sauce, and had made a good dinner with that and bread—from pain, I daresay, she would kick about a good deal—the girl took the light up to my husband—there was no light up there, but it was light enough to see in the room—Parsonage Walk runs down by the side, and the lamp there enables us to see—I can't say I showed the wet to the doctor—he went up stairs next morning—I showed it to my husband—the wet was not on the wall—I never knew the child to dribble much—some of my children have done so—the deceased was on the left hand side to the wall, with her back to the wall—what I saw was too much wet to be accounted dribble.

JOSEPH LEES . I am a demonstrator of anatomy, at St. Thomas's Hospital—I made the post-mortem examination of the deceased—I saw her a week after Good Friday—the cause of death was suffocation—it was a well formed child—there were morbid appearances indicative of suffocation—on the inner space of the lower lip were two white marks, corresponding in shape and size with the two upper front teeth—they might be caused by the child pressing against some hard substance—the mere pressure of the child's head on the bed-clothes would not account for those marks—the nose would protect the child's mouth, a little—I should think the pressure of the lips against the iron band of the—bedstead would cause those marks on the lip—I think they were made during life—I think the pressure against the teeth was continued until shortly before death—I could not say within a minute or two—if the child had got its head down upon the bed-clothes, so as to interfere with its breathing, and afterwards it had sufficient strength to raise itself by getting on its back, in my opinion it would revive if it had strength sufficient to draw its head out, and to turn on to its back—if it had died from suffocation by the head being down, caused by the pillow being found over it, it would have been found in that state—if it had got down between the bed and the wall, its head would have remained there, and it would have been found dead in that position—it is not unusual after death to throw up mucous, especially after the head is turned down—it is impossible to say the quantity—it would come from the air passages of the lungs and throat—a very small quantity would have made a stain enough to cover a shilling.

Cross-examined by MR. THOMAS. I remember saying before the Coroner that if the child's head had been in such a hollow as has been described, the marks upon the lips might have been made by the force of the child resting upon the lip—the positions were described by the Coroner—the cause of suffocation must be continued a minute or more—I recognize Dr. Taylor as an authority on medical jurisprudence—I have known oases where portions of food remaining in the larynx produced suffocation; even by a pea remaining in the throat; even the close wrapping a child's head in a shawl may produce suffocation—I agree with Dr. Taylor that where a child is presumed to be suffocated, owing to the position where he has fallen, evidence of the position of the body, or the sight of the body, is necessary

before forming any opinion—I recognize Dr. Christison as an authority of eminence on matters of medical jurisprudence—the marks on the deceased's lips must have been produced during life—I agree with him that the appearances of a body, the death of which has been caused by suffocation, are in many cases identical with appearances causing death in other cases.

Re-examined. If the pea or food obstructed the passages, I should expect to find them in the throat—the throat and air passages were clear—the fact of the marks on the lips affords very strong presumption that suffocation was caused by pressure—a person may have gone across the child's face and so produced suffocation; that would be accident.

Q. You heard the description in which the child was found; from what you saw at the post-mortem, and the remarks related by the witnesses, do those circumstances exclude or not the notion of an accident? A. It is a very grave question; I don't like to answer it—if it were shown that the child's head went down this hollow place, I could quite conceive its being suffocated there, and the marks on the lips would be caused by the pressure against the iron bedstead—you will not press me beyond my conscience—I can't say sufficiently that accidental suffocation is excluded—I don't believe the bruises on the lip were caused many hours before death—a piece of the lip was removed and examined microscopically, and the mark was found to be simply due to the blood being excluded, and I take it to be pretty nearly certain that if the pressure had been removed before death, the abnormal appearance of the parts would not have been caused—I examined the body eight days after death.

MR. THOMAS. Q. I want to know whether the appearances presented by a bruise inflicted shortly before death, would not be identical with a bruise inflicted shortly after death? A. Yes; this was not a bruise, but a mark—I think if the pressure had been applied some time subsequent to death, the same kind of mark would not have taken place—you would have an indentation, without any blood being in the vessels—the surrounding vessels were congested—there was no sign of the redness of the gums showing painful teething—if the child had had strength to extricate itself and lay down on its back, it would have recovered.

JOHN JAMES WILLIAMS . I am a surgeon, of 116, Walworth Road—I was sent for to Mr. Beer's house, on Good Friday evening, about 12 o'clock—I found the child on its mother's lap, dead—she was bathing its feet with hot water—it had probably been dead an hour, or an hour and a half; it would be difficult to be precise—I examined it carefully—I opened the lips, and observed the impression of the teeth—I asked her if she could account for it—she said she could not—it was somewhat strange to me—I have heard the evidence to-day—where the bed was, there was not room enough to enable a child's head to get between the bed and the wall—it might have been on the edge of the bed, and been suffocated in that way—the mark of the teeth was unusual, and could not be accounted for on the lips—the frame of the bedstead would be here—it was a flock bed, not very far above the mattress—the bed was not more than an inch, or an inch and a half, in thickness—I supposed the child died from suffocation—I assumed that it might be found dead in bed—I was not told that it was found lying with its head upwards, and no bed clothes on—I saw nothing at the time to indicate its being accidentally done, except the marks on the lips, that aroused my suspicion—those marks were, in my judgment, caused before death, and were the result of external pressure, unquestionably—I saw the

prisoner—she was unconcerned; there was nothing special about her—there was no discoloration of the child's skin—I was present at the post-mortem examination, and concur with Mr. Lees.

Cross-examined. I requested to see the bed—I went up stairs, and immediately examined it—the mattress projected beyond the bed three or four inches—my attention was not called to any fluid on the floor—I put my hand on the sheet, and found it damp—it was where the child had been sleeping, near the edge of the bed—the damp had come from the child's mouth—it did not give me any impression of urine—if the child's head had been lying between the bed and the wall, its mouth might have caused this moisture—it is possible, if the child's hand had been pressed against its mouth, the mouth lying upon the hand, for the weight of the head upon the lip to cause the marks I have spoken of—the child's stomach was very much overloaded with food—it is possible that the child lying across the bed, with its mouth against the bed, and its head projecting on the mattress, the chances of suffocation would be increased by its having an overloaded stomach—I think it possible, if the lower lip had been sucked in by the child, it might have produced the mark—the weight of the child's head lying on its face would have been sufficient to produce suffocation—I have known, recently, cases of children dying from suffocation, without any apparent cause.

Re-examined. I have known two cases of suffocation lately, without apparent cause—they were found in bed—one instance was a child lying in bed, with one leg cocked over the other—there may have been some food in the passage to stop the breath—there were no external appearances—in that case, the child was well at 8.30, and found dead at 11.30.

COURT. Q. Looking at the circumstances, the post-mortem, the appearances, and the facts, as disclosed by the evidence, is it or not your opinion that the notion of accidental suffocation is excluded? A. Not absolutely; it is possible for it to have been accidental.

JAMES DODD SWALLOW . I am a surgeon, of 285, Clapham Rise, and 61, Kennington Park—I was at the post-mortem examination—I am of opinion that the cause of death was suffocation—I agree with Dr. Lees that the child could have been suffocated from the head being downwards, and there being pressure on the back of the head so as to keep the lips and nostrils against the clothes, it would have died in that position—I am of opinion that if it had sufficient strength to rescue itself from the obstruction, it would revive—I have heard the evidence of Mr. Beer, and if he is right in the description he gives of finding the child on its back, I should say it would be impossible to be an accidental suffocation—I rely on its having nothing over its mouth—there was nothing in the throat or air vessels to cause an obstruction—the marks on the inside of the lower lips were caused by pressure against the upper teeth—it could hardly be understood that a healthy child, if lying on its face, with no pressure on the back of its head, would continue in that posture, and die like that, without nature making an effort to extricate itself from that posture—to cause these marks inside the lips, the pressure must have been continued up to, and probably beyond, the period of death.

Cross-examined. It is impossible to tell within one or two hours the time the pressure would have continued on the lip—a bruise or mark made after death is almost identical with one made during life, but this was not a bruise, this was an impression—I saw it eight days after death—a pea, and.

such slight causes, would produce suffocation, or wrapping in a shawl—I have known cases of people lying on their faces being suffocated, in one case, the child was weakly and delicate, through being wrapped in a shawl—I have known children to die without apparent external cause—a child might be perfectly healthy at the time of death, but be suffering from catarrh, or cold—a child suffering from catarrh, the throat being filled with mucous and having an overloaded stomach, the chances of suffocation would be increased—a child does not secrete mucous profusely after recovering from hooping cough—it is of the first importance to come to a correct judgment as to whether the suffocation was accidental or not, that the actual position of the child at the time of death should be considered—the appearances of a body, the death of which has been caused by suffocation, in many cases are not identical with death from other causes—I think the morbid appearances peculiar to death by suffocation are different to other post-mortem causes—I recognize Dr. Christison as an authority.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-569
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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569. AGNES NORMAN was again indicted for attempting to strangle and suffocate Charles Parfitt, with intent to murder him.

MESSRS. POLAND, BEASLEY, GRIFFITHS, and PEARS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MORGAN THOMAS and MR. ST. AUBYN the Defence.

ELIZABETH PARFITT . I am single—I lived in July and August last at 19, Temple Street, St. George's Road, Newington, with my neice, Mrs. Brown and her husband—the prisoner came into her service in July—Charles Parfitt was a member of the family—he was in very good health—about a fortnight after she came, she went out for a holiday—she came back on the following morning, between 7 and 8 o'clock—she had leave to stay out—the boy had slept with me that night—I got up about 7.30, leaving the boy in bed, in good health, asleep—I went down into the shop—about an hour after I heard a noise, a stifled cry—I went up stairs, I found the prisoner in the act of getting off my bed—the boy was in the bed, crying—I asked him what was the matter, the prisoner said that she thought he had been dreaming—he was in a great state of agitation—he heard me put a question to her—he said "No, I have not been dreaming, Ellen has been trying to strangle me"—I called her by that name—I asked her whether it was true, she said "It is not"—he showed me the way, and put his hands to his mouth and throat—he said "That is the way in which she tried to do it"—his uncle called him into his room, and asked him if it was true—that was not in her presence—she said she did not try to strangle him—the boy said "You did"—he had a sweet in his mouth; I did not see that—his aunt saw that, and asked him what he had in his mouth—I was present—he said he had a sweet in his mouth; Ellen had given it him not to cry—his aunt made him take it out of his mouth directly—Mr. and Mrs. Brown then came up stairs—they called him away into the other room—his mouth was very sore inside the lips—I could not say what kind of sore it was—for two or three days after, the glands of his throat were swollen and tender—I heard her say once she was not fond of children, shortly after this event—she remained a few days after that.

Cross-examined. I was living with my niece, as a relation—she was very delicate, and I assisted her—she engaged the prisoner—I never told her father or mother what I have here to-day—I never communicated with the police; I told several people about it—I was examined before the Magistrate;

I said, "I have told somebody of it, Mr. Freeman;" I told Mr. Sauders the Same day, I believe—they are not here—as near as I can recollect, I told Mr. Saunders that the prisoner tried to strangle Charles Parfitt—I can't say I used the word "strangle" before to-day—I can't swear the boy said "Ellen has been trying to strangle me"—I believe I told the Magistrate the boy said Ellen had given him a sweet not to cry—this is twelve months ago—I believe I gave the Magistrate the same account as I have given to-day—I said before him, "The boy put his hands to his mouth and throat, and said, 'Ellen's been doing so, and knelt upon my stomach"—I thought I had told all to-day—I took the boy to Mr. and Mrs. Brown—they called me—Mr. Brown came out on the landing, and took the boy in to them—I did not say before the Magistrate, "Mr. and Mrs. Brown came and took the boy away"—I said "Mr. Brown came on to the landing"—I did not discover that the boy's neck was swollen till some days after—I said before the Magistrate, "I looked at his mouth, and found the inside of his lips very sore; his throat was very much swollen"—I did not send for a doctor, and none came—I did something for his sore throat—I rubbed it with hartshorn and oil—I and Charles Parfitt slept in the prisoner's room this night only—the shop is on the ground floor—the kitchen is on the same floor as the shop—at the top of the stairs is the bedroom, on the first story—I was in the shop—when she first came in that morning, she went into the kitchen first, then to her bedroom, where the boy was sleeping—there is no doubt I heard this cry.

Re-examined. In consequence of hearing that, I went up stairs at once—I mentioned it to several persons, I daresay—it made an impression on me at the time.

CHARLES PARFITT . I am eleven'years old—I have been to school—I remember being at Mrs. Brown's, 19, Temple Street, last year, at the end of July, or some time in August—the prisoner was there—she had a holiday—I slept that night with Aunt Betsy—I was woke up in the morning by somebody strangling me—like this, with her hand on my throat, and her finger upon my nose—I tried to make a noise—she gave me a sweet—she said, "Don't cry here's a sweet for you"—my aunt took it away from me—Ellen was on the bed when I first felt this on my mouth—she was lying on me across my back—it hurt me inside my lips and throat—when my aunt came up I said "Ellen has been trying to hurt me"—I did not hear what she said—after some conversation I went into Mr. Brown's room, on the same landing—he looked at my lips—next day or so, I felt my throat sore—I was frightened.

Cross-examined. It is holiday time now—I go to school at Brecknell, near Windsor—I was not very good friends with Ellen—I did not play with her very much—we did not have many romps together—I recollect telling the Magistrate I had many romps with Ellen, and used to play with her—I was asleep when I found Ellen on the bed that morning—I did not hear her come into the room—the first I knew of it was feeling something on my throat—she said "Don't cry, here is a sweet for you"—I didn't think she was going to hurt me—I took the sweet from her—I tried to cry out—I didn't cry out—I made a noise—I could not cry out bud—the Browns were in the next room when this happened—I don't know if the partition is thin—I have heard uncle and aunt talking in the next room—I don't know in what month it took place, or how long ago—I don't know which room is farthest, where the Browns were, or where Betsys was—I don't know when it

happened—I recollect going to the Magistrate—I don't know who first spoke to me about it—I recollect telling the Magistrate I had forgot all about this until a week or two ago—Aunt Betsy never told me nothing—the Magistrate put some questions to me—I saw that gentleman (Mr. Poland) there, and in consequence of the questions he put to me, I remembered all about it—he was very kind to me and asked me a lot of questions, and I answered him yes or no, without remembering any thing at all about it.

CHARLOTTE BROWN . I am the wife of George Brown, of 19, Temple Street, the prisoner was in my service—she came in July last—I recollect after her holiday her coming back—that morning my husband and I were in bed asleep; I was awoke by hearing the boy before 8 o'clock, or past—he woke me by coming into my room—his Aunt Betsy was with him—he was agitated, pale, and trembling—he had a sweet in his mouth—my husband was in the room—he had been out of the room on to the landing, and came with the boy and Aunt Betsy—my husband called the prisoner upstairs; she came—I do not know that he said anything to her—I did not hear her say anything to him—I was not out of the room—I looked at the boy's lips almost directly—his aunt said he complained of his lips being very much inflamed inside—I told him to take the sweet out of his mouth, which he said the prisoner had given him not to tell—I did not notice anything wrong about his mouth when he went to bed the night before this—nor his throat—I noticed his throat afterwards, about the next day; it was very much swollen—the prisoner said she was at the toilet at the time, she said "How can you say that, Charley?"—he said she was trying to choke him—my husband said nothing to her in my presence—after some time I asked her what she meant by going into Charley's room, she said "Nothing"—she said when he spoke of it "I was at the toilet putting on my cap when he spoke about it"—I had told her what complaint he had made—she said "Oh, Charley, how could you say so?"—I don't think Charley was present then—she ran away on the Thursday following—I gave her notice in the morning, for her insolence—a week's notice—I went over to Mrs. Gardner's, where I saw her the same day—she did not expect to see me there—she said she didn't intend going back to me—I didn't know she had run away till then.

Cross-examined. If Mrs. Parfitt said I and Mr. Brown fetched the boy, that was incorrect—I had a good written character with her from Mrs. Gardner—I kept her a few days at my house, after this affair—I saw her mother before she left—I told the prisoner, in her mother's presence, never to trifle with human life—before the Magistrate I said "I don't think I did tell her mother, now I come to consider, and if I said anything to her at all it was because I dismissed her, because she was saucy," that is a fact.

Re-examined. She slept in the same room—the boy slept, the night after, with us, I believe.

GEORGE BROWN . I live at 19, Temple Street—the prisoner was in my service—when she came home from her holiday that morning, I was awoke by aunt coming up the stairs—I cried out "What's the matter?"—I got out of bed, and went to the landing—I met her there, bringing the little boy into our room—he was very pale, and trembling—he complained to me—I saw his throat—I did not examine it—the prisoner had gone down stairs—I called out, over the banisters, "Ellen, what have you been doing, what do you mean by this?"—she came up, and I went into my bedroom again—I said the boy said she had been trying to choke him—she said

"You naughty boy, I have not"—she said she was at the mirror at the window, taking off her things—I think he continued agitated, and trembling, for an hour or two after—his nerves now are generally affected; he will not go to bed, or be left alone—he is especially nervous now when anything of the sort is mentioned.

Cross-examined. He did not contradict her when she said "You naughty boy, I was doing up my hair"—he said nothing—I heard Betsy's feet creaking, as she came up stairs; that awoke me—I don't know the thickness of the partition between my room and this—we can hear people talking when awake—Betsy brought him into my room—that was the first I heard of it—I could not believe, myself, that she could have been guilty of such an act, and I tried to persuade myself that it was not so—if it had not have been for these other things we have heard of, you would probably not have heard of this case at all.

GUILTY.— Recommended to Mercy by the Jury, on account of her youth.—Judgment respited.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-570
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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570. CHARLES WILLEY (34) , Feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 13s., 9d., with intent to defraud.

MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.

EDWARD GREANEY . I live at 7, Grove Place, Kennington Park—on 20th May I gave the prisoner 14s., to buy a judgment summons for 13s., 9d.—he was a lodger of mine—he afterwards brought back the summons receipted—I was applied to on the following Thursday, and I spoke to the prisoner—he declared positively that he had paid it—I said "How is this, Willey, that I am applied to again for this money?"—he said "You will find it all right, Mr. Greaney, I paid it to an elderly gentleman at the Court; and, to prove that, I will go down to-morrow morning, and then you shall see that I have paid it"—he left my house in the morning and did not return—he left his wife and children in the house—I saw him, I think, on the last day of May, and gave him into custody.

HENRY JUPE (Detective Officer L). I apprehended the prisoner on 1st June, in Clapham Road, about 9 o'clock in the morning—I charged him with stealing the money—he said "I did have that amount of money, and I intended to repay it as soon as I could"—I said "You have signed this summons"—he said "Yes, I did; but it is fictitious."

WILLIAM RANSON . I am managing clerk at the County Court of Surrey—on the 4th February last a plaint was entered, in which Jenkin Evan was the plaintiff and Edward Greaney the defendant—there was a judgment for the plaintiff, and 13s., 9d. to pay—it has not been paid—this is not receipted by me or by any officer of the Court.

The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "The plaintiff is well aware that when I broke into that money I had no intention of stealing it; when I got to the Court on Saturday it was closed, and when I reached home I found my family wanted food, and I was tempted to break into it. I was told at the County Court, that if I paid it on the Friday, it would do. Money was sent to my wife on the night I was taken. I have not heard whether it has been paid or not; if I had not been locked up, it would have been paid."

Prisoner's Defence. I was in distress. I had no guilty intention.


10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-571
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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571. THOMAS TADMAN (30) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. POLAND and O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON

the Defence.

MARY ROBBIE . I am a widow, and keep a corn-chandler's shop at Stepney Green—on 31st May, about 8 o'clock at night, I served the prisoner with a truss of straw, a truss of hay, a truss of clover, and a bushel of oats—they came to 11s., 9d.—he gave me a half-sovereign and a florin, and I gave him 3d. change—he took the goods away in his cart, and about three minutes after he had gone, I found the half-sovereign was bad—I kept it in my hand, and sent my lad to find the cart, but be could not, and I put the coin in a cupboard, and afterwards took it to the Police Court—I there saw the prisoner in a cell, with three more, and picked him out—he was not pointed out to me in any way—a man without an arm was in the cart with the prisoner, and another man held the horse.

Cross-examined. He was from five to ten minutes in the house—the gas had just been lighted—my lad assisted in putting the things into the cart—I had no other half-sovereign—the prisoner wore a high hat when he came, and I told the policeman so—I did not see a high hat on any of the other men in the cell—it was not the hat which drew my attention, I recognized the man's features—I did not say before the Magistrate that I could not recognize him till he put his hat on, but he put on his hat, and I said he was the man—I did not say before the Magistrate that I could not identify him unless his hat was on.

Re-examined. I recognized him by his features, and by his hat, too—he had a hat in the cell—I think I should have recognized him if he had been without his hat—I never failed to recognize him without his hat—I did not see him without it till he was at the bar—it is not correct that I failed to recognize him till he put it on—he bad it on when I went to the cell door—I have not the least doubt about him.

THOMAS HENRY BEALAND . I am fifteen years old, and am servant to Mrs. Robbie—on 31st May, in the evening, I helped the prisoner to put some hay and oats into his cart, and he put the clover in—two other persons were with him—he had a black horse in his cart.

Cross-examined. I was taken by a constable to the prisoner's cell, and said, at first, that I could not identify him—three other gentlemen were in the cell with him, and were brought out with him—I could not pick him out—I think the others had their hats on; I am not quite sure—the other three had round hats on—they were all of a row—one of the policemen did not nudge me, and say "Go on, pick him out"—I told the policeman outside, a second time, that I could not pick him out, and I did not do so at all—I think the prisoner is the man—I walked away without saying whether he was the man or not—I told them I did not know anyone there—I next saw him at the Police Court.

LYDIA BAGGARLY . My husband keeps the Hand in Hand, New Kent Road—on 2nd June, a little after 6 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a pint of ale—he laid down a good sovereign—I went up stairs to a drawer in my bedroom, and took out a half-sovereign, and 10s., in silver—I left another half-sovereign there—I have one key of the drawer, and my husband another—no one else has a key—I went down, and gave the prisoner the half-sovereign, and 9s., 6d. in silver, and then went to the till, and gave him 3d. in coppers—he then asked me if I would give him all silver—I said "Yes"—he laid a half-sovereign on the counter—I took it up—it felt

very slippery—I weighed it, and found it bad—I took it into the bar-parlour, and said to my husband "You must either have taken this bad half-sovereign, or this man has changed it"—the girl, Elizabeth Stevens, then took it, and said "Let me look at it"—I did not see her give it to my husband—the prisoner said "I have not touched the money"—my husband said to me "I can take an oath that you could not have given that half-sovereign to the man"—I don't believe it was the same half-sovereign that I had brought down and given to the prisoner—I had not noticed that the one I gave him was slippery.

Cross-examined. I do not say it is not the same, because it is bad—we never take any gold without weighing it, therefore it cannot have been the same—my husband had taken it—I cannot say when there was only one other sovereign in the drawer, and no sovereigns—there were other people in the shop who said they had not seen him touch the half-sovereign—the counter was not wet with beer where he stood—that was the only part that was dry—a man named Burridge, an undertaker, lives near us—two of his men came in—I do not know that the prisoner had been at Burridge's, looking after a horse—he had a horse and trap at the door—he is, I believe, an undertaker—he might have been in the house twenty minutes.

ELIZABETH STEVENS . I am Mrs. Baggarly's servant—I saw the prisoner there on 2nd June, my mistress brought in a half-sovereign and was going to put it on the table, I asked her to let me look at it, and she gave it into my hand, I put it between my teeth and found it was bad, I gave it to my master—it had not gone out of my possession.

GEORGE BAGGARLY . I remember the night—the prisoner was at my house—there is a drawer up stairs where I kept money, of which I have one key, and my wife the other—there were two half-sovereigns—I had taken them, and passed them—I am quite sure they were good—I was called up from the cellar into the parlour—the girl handed me a half-sovereign—I saw the prisoner there, and my wife said "You have either taken a bad half-sovereign, or else this man has changed it—I put it on the scale and found it light—I told the prisoner I should detain him; he said if I gave him in charge he would make me pay for it, for he had plenty of money—I sent for a policeman—the prisoner said he would drive me to the station if I liked—he seemed anxious to get out, but I stood by the door—he said he thought he was as good a man as I was, and we had better come and settle it outside—I declined—he said he should not stop any longer, pushed me from the door, jumped up in his cart, and without stopping for his carter to get in, drove away as hard as he could—I ran after him, halloaing, "Stop him," but he whipped the horse all the way—two boys ran after him, and he tried to slash them with the whip—a policeman came—a young man stopped him, and he walked back with the policeman to my house—I showed the policeman the half-sovereign—the prisoner said "Let us look at it," and took hold of it—he put it in his mouth, and said "I could swallow it if I liked"—he appeared to swallow something, and I believe he swallowed the good one—he then offered me ten shillings not to give him a showing up—I gave him in custody, with the half-sovereign—he had a black horse, and I believe he is an undertaker—he offered at the station to give me a half-sovereign or a sovereign, not to charge him.

Cross-examined. I did not say before the Magistrate that he offered me a sovereign, I did not think of it—I have not talked about it to any policeman—there was only two half-sovereigns in my drawer, as I had paid away

all the gold I had on Tuesday—I took these two half-sovereigns of two of the neighbour's children, at different times, one of whom I can recollect by name—I never take coin without weighing it, and I weighed these—I have not made inquiry of the children, because the coins I took were good.

ROBERT ATKINSON (Policeman P 365). I was called, and saw the prisoner in a cart in Wellington Street, galloping, and beating the horse with a whip—a crowd gathered round, calling "Stop thief!"—he was stopped, and the prosecutor charged him, and I took him back to the shop—I looked at the half-sovereign and found it bad—the prisoner asked to look at it—I let him do so—he threw his hand up to his mouth, and handed back a bad half-sovereign—I did not see anything go into his mouth, but I saw him swallowing afterwards—he said he would give Mr. Baggarly a half-sovereign to settle it—I searched him at the station, and found 19s., 9d. in good money—there was not a dent on the half-sovereign when I was examined at the Police Court, it has been made since.

Cross-examined. The horse was going as fast as he could—the dent in the half-sovereign was done when it was marked at the station.

WILLIAM MASON (Police Inspector M) On 2nd June I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—he said to Mr. Baggarly "I will give you ten shillings or a sovereign not to charge me"—Mr. Baggarly said that he should, and the prisoner said "If you book this charge against me I shall hold you responsible"—after the adjournment on the 14th Mrs. Robbie saw the prisoner with four others in a cell at the Police Court—she at once went up to him, placed her hand on him and said "That is the man"—she gave me this half-sovereign on the 14th.

Cross-examined. She said nothing before she identified him about his having a high hat, but she did after she came out of the cell—there were four others in the cell, not three only—most of them had billycock hats—he was I think the only one with a high hat—she did not tell me before she identified him that he had a high hat, or that she could not identify him unless he put his hat on—the Magistrate did not order him in my presence to put his hat on—but I was not in Court all the time—I don't know who the other men were, they were in charge—the boy failed altogether to pick him out, though they were brought out of the cell.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These two half-sovereigns are bad, and from the same mould,; they are both light.

Witnesses for the Defence.

GEORGE DOUGHTY . I am a general contractor in the building trade, of 8, Globe Road, Bethnal Green—I have know the prisoner seven or eight years, he is an undertaker at Shadwell—I have always known him to be respectable—he has buried several of my relatives, which caused me to know him—on 31st May, he was in my company for three hours, from 5.45 or 6.15 in the evening till past 9 o'clock—it was then dark—I went with him to look at his stable at Shadwell, about some repairs he wanted me to do, it is seven or eight minutes' walk from his house—we remained at the stable three-quarters of an hour, I then went to my house; we parted just before dusk, before 9 o'clock—I was not at his house at all—we were at my house an hour and three-quarters or two hours, talking, before we went to the stable—I know it was 31st May from being at home for my holiday, I was not transacting any business—it was Tuesday evening in Whitsun week—I saw by the papers last Sunday week that he was in custody.

Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. He is not a particular friend of mine,

only in the way of business—I did nothing at the stable, I could not come to terms with him—I saw it in the Weekly Dispatch or Lloyd's—the prisoner's father ascertained from my brother where I lived, as he did not know, and he asked me if I knew what evening it was Mr. Tadman had been to my house—that was after I saw it in the newspaper—I did not come forward when I saw it in the newspaper, I was too busy, but the father came to me—my wife was at home, she came here with me to-day, but whether she is here now I don't know—I keep no servant; my daughters were out—the prisoner walked to me—you can go from my house to some parts of Stepney Green in about fifteen minutes—it took us half an hour and five minutes to walk to the prisoner's stable—the prisoner has never had penal servitude, on my oath—I know nothing about his committing a watch robbery—he has never been in unlawful possession of a decanter—his father is not a friend of mine, he is here.

Re-examined. My wife opened the door to the prisoner, but she was not with us all the time.

COURT. Q. You saw the stable, do you know what animal he keeps there? A. A black funeral horse, and a funeral carriage—he keeps no private trap.

John Turner, a gentleman's servant;. Joseph Goodfellow, an undertaker; Mary McFarlane, a shop keeper; and John Vicars, a servant, gave the prisoner a good character.

MR. POLAND called

EDWARD DILLON (Police Sergeant A 19). I have known the prisoner since 1862, when he came out of prison, after having four years—I had him in custody in January, 1864—I have known him up to the present time—he lives not very far from our station."

Cross-examined. He had four years' penal servitude, and I can tell you some more, if you wish to know it.

MARY ROBBIE (re-called). The Magistrate asked me what sort of a hat he wore—I said I did not know the names of hats, and he told the prisoner to put his hat on—I then said that that was the sort of hat he wore.

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-572
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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572. JOHN LESTER (44), PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after a previous conviction— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-573
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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573. MARY CONDON (42) , to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-574
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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574. JOHN DUNN (22) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Eliza Meeres, and stealing therein one seal and one pouch, her property— Nine Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-575
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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575. FRANCIS DALE (38) , Forging and uttering an endorsement on an order for 8l. 12s., 1d., with intent to defraud.

MR. STRAIGHT condwted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS

the Defence.

ALFRED MARSHALL GALLET . I live at 4, Dorrington Cottages, Camberwell Road, Peckham, and am a sea captain—I have known the prisoner about nine months—my brother-in-law, James Austin, introduced me to him—he had known him before that—at that time I was engaged in purchasing guns for the French Government—the agents for the French Government, at

that time, were Shroeder & Schiller—I employed the prisoner to go to the gun makers, and ask them if they had guns for sale, and went myself afterwards to inspect and buy them—I paid the money myself to the gun makers—I did not make any arrangement with the prisoner as to what he was to be paid for the trouble he had in finding out these guns—I gave him money—I saw the prisoner two or three days before, and he said he was very miserable, and I gave him 1l.—he was in a very bad position at the time, and I did not make any contract or agreement with him—I said "You had better work, so that you shall not come on me for money always"—then it was agreed he should go to the gun makers, and look for guns, as I kept him, and gave him enough to live, and his family—I have given him more than 200l., during the time I have known him—when I made his acquaintance, he was in a furnished house, and I advanced him money to take the house, and I became answerable for the furniture in the house—I paid for thirty guns that were found by the prisoner—I myself bought 10,000 guns, perhaps, or more, and 6,000,000 cartridges—the prisoner had nothing to do with those 10,000—I have a father and brother carrying on business at Bordeaux, as Gallet & Co, wine merchants—I have been agent for them since I have been in England—I employed the prisoner as agent for the sale of those wines—amongst other persons, some wine was supplied to Mr. Whittet, of the Horns, Kennington, to the amount of 8l. 12s., 1d.—I never gave the prisoner any authority to endorse my name on cheques, or to sign receipts in my name—if he received money on my behalf, it was his duty to bring it to me—the endorsement on this cheque is not in my handwriting—I did not authorize any person to write my name on the back of it—these two receipts are in the prisoner's handwriting—when I received money from the prisoner I gave him receipts to take to the customers—once or twice I gave him a receipted invoice, to take to persons who did not know me, and he got the money.

Cross-examined. All the business the prisoner did for me was to find thirty guns—that is as to the guns—he sold, perhaps, 30l. worth of mine in five months for me—that is all that he did, and I mean to tell the Jury that I paid him 200l.—I do not keep a banking account—I kept eight persons for nine months—I did not pay it by cheque—I kept his family during nine months—I have not any written account of the moneys I have paid him—I never knew the prisoner before he was introduced to me—I don't say that I paid him 200l. in cash, but I kept him and his family during nine months, and that cost me 200l.—I arrive at that by guess work—I have no written entry—when charity is given, no receipts are required or demanded—there was no necessity for an intermediate party to buy the guns, but he was a man who could work, and he asked me every day for money without working for it—I did not represent to Shroeder & Schiller, or to anybody, that he was my partner—the wines came from my brother at Bordeaux, and sometimes from Shroeder & Schiller, who are wine merchants also—I am quite sure I received wines from my brother—I don't know that the prisoner bought eight hundred guns from Tate & Salby—he paid me 5l. of Mr. Griffiths—he did not receive 10l. commission, and give me 5l.—I don't recollect that he handed me any commissionmoney—I can't say that the prisoner purchased two hundred and sixty-eight guns from Messrs. Griffiths & Co.—I don't know—I can't say that the prisoner received any money from them as commission; as far as I am concerned, I have done business for those gentlemen, and I received my commission

—I don't know whether he received any commission or not—I can't swear that he did not receive it, because I don't know—this is the book I keep, where is the entry of the thirty guns bought for Shroeder & Schiller—for the wine I have another—I have no book which shows the number of arms I inspected—I have no entry of the ten thousand guns I inspected, as I was not the purchaser of those guns; I was simply the agent for Shroeder & Schiller—I have no document or paper to show relative to those ten thousand guns—I have certificates to show that I was the inspector for the Gironde & Brittany—the book would not show the number of guns inspected—I have my books relating to the money transactions in the wine trade—this is one, that is the only one I have—I don't consider the wine business my business—I only did it for a month—I only carried it on intermediately, till I should have my own business established.

Re-examined. I met the prisoner at the house of my brother-in-law, Mr. Austin, a solicitor—it was not Mr. Austin who first introduced the prisoner to me—I had been in Australia, and my wife had been living in Mr. Austin's family, and she introduced the prisoner formally to me, saying "They are an honest family" and so on—when I saw him first he told me he had not eaten anything for forty-eight hours, and I gave him the business to provide him with something to do—as inspector of theae 10,000 guns I simply saw them, and then reported upon them to Shroeder & Schiller—I was in England in April and May.

ALEXANDER WHITTET . I live with my father, who keeps the Horns Tavern—in April we had some wine supplied by Mr. Gallet, to the amount of 8l. 12s., 1d.—I wrote this cheque, and my father signed it—it is made payable to order—I put it in an envelope and addressed it to Mr. A. M. Gallet, 5, Sidmouth Terrace, Camberwcll Road, Old Kent Road—the cheque was afterwards returned through our banker's, paid—I received this receipt shortly after I sent the cheque—(Read: "Received from Mr. Whittet, of the Horns, Kennington, the sum by cheque, for goods as per invoice, 28th April, 1871. F. Dale, 3rd May, 1871")—I had seen the prisoner about some wine before this transaction, and he brought Mr. Gallet to me—I think my father ordered the wine.

JOHN HATTON . I keep the Duke of Edinburgh, Albany Road—the prisoner brought this cheque for 8l. 12s., 1d. to me one evening—I don't exactly recollect the date—he asked me for the money for it, and I gave it to him—the name of Gallet was endorsed on it at that time.

Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner a few weeks before—I bought some champagne of him.

CHARLES STBVENS (Detective Officer P). I took the prisoner into custody on 8th June—I went to his house, he said "I know what you are come for, you are come about that cheque of Mr. Gallet's"—on the road to the Police Court be asked if I thought there was anything else against him, and he did not think Mr. Gallet would carry it so far—at the police-station he said "Mr. Gallet can't charge me, for I am in partnership."

A. M. GALLET (re-called). The 8l. 12s., 1d. was never paid me by the prisoner—I learnt it had been paid by Mr. Whittet a month after—the prisoner did not tell me he had received it.


Strongly recommended to mercy.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-576
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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576. BENJAMIN OGDEN (17) , PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Richard Wayte, and stealing 7lbs. of mutton and two knives, his goods— Six Months' Imprisonment.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

10th July 1871
Reference Numbert18710710-557a
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > penal servitude

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557. HENRY STAUNTON (33) , PLEADED GUILTY * to several indictments for stealing a quantity of size and glue; and also embezzling various sums of money of Peter Brown & Co. his masters.— Seven Years' Penal Servtiude.


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