Old Bailey Proceedings.
23rd September 1872
Reference Number: t18720923

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
23rd September 1872
Reference Numberf18720923

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Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers to the Court,










On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, September 23rd, 1872, and following days,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir ROBERT LUSH , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; The Hon. Sir ANTHONY CLEASBY , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; SAMUEL CARTER , Esq., F. S.A., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., ANDREW LUSK , Esq., M.P., THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Esq., and CHARLES WHETHAM, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Deputy Recorder and Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's 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 an known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.


OLD COURT.—Monday, September 23rd, 1872.

Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-647
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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647. WILLIAM LAKE (24), was indicted for stealing 200l., 140l., and 205l. 2s. 6d., of Edward Bowden Newsom and others, his masters.

MESSRS. POLAND and DAVIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. METCALFE the defence.

JOHN HOWGATE . I am a grocer and tea dealer, of 98, Westbourne Grove—in the year 1871 I had transactions with the prosecutors—on 13th May I paid a cheque of 205l. 2s. 6d. to their collector—this is the cheque; it is crossed to the National Bank, and has been returned as paid.

JAMES BAIRD . I am an accountant, in partnership with Mr. Rutherford, at 39, King William Street, City—we were employed to investigate the books of the firm of Newsom, Burke & Co., wholesale tea dealers, in Great Tower Street—we were first engaged about 13th December, 1871—the books were very much in arrear; they were kept by the prisoner—he was ledger—keeper and cashier—we proceeded to investigate the books the prisoner was present the greater part of the time—I produce the rough cash-book for April last year—I find an entry "April 27, 1871, William Sentence, exchanged 200l."—that sum of 200l. is not included in the addition of that page; it is struck out, ruled out by two lines; that ruling out is peculiar to that item; that sum does not appear in the fair cash-book—that book is also in the prisoner's handwriting—the ledger contains no account of Sentence & Co.—on 12th May I find an entry in the rough cash-book of "Sentence & Co., 140l."—that is in the prisoner's handwriting; it is ruled out in precisely the same way, and it is omitted in the addition of the money accounted for—there is no entry of it in the fair cash-book, nor is the firm credited with it in the ledger—the entries in the fair cash-book and ledger that day are in the prisoner's writing—the entry is "May 12, William Sentence, see Cartel, 140l."—that "see Cartel" refers to the ship by which the teas arrive on 13th May there is an entry in the rough cash-book of "205l. 2s. 6d., John Howgate"—that is in the

prisoner's writing—it is ruled out in the same way, and it is omitted in the addition of the money accounted for—the fair cash-book that day is in the prisoner's writing; it is omitted altogether there, and also in the ledger—I have searched through the books, and can say that those three sums have not been accounted for—I made a balance of the amount of money deficient up to 11th December last year, it was 1230l. 6s. 9d.—I spoke to the prisoner with reference to that balance on 5th June—that amount was pointed out to him, and we asked him to satisfy himself of its correctness, and write in the balance, and he wrote "W. Lake, 1230l. 6s. 9d., to the credit of cash, "remarking "I suppose this is signing my death warrant"—that amount includes the three sums in question.

Cross-examined. I commenced examining the accounts about 13th December—my partner and I commenced simultaneously, and from that time up to June we have been continually engaged, and also subsequently to 5th June, up to the end of July, the day the prisoner was given into custody—he attended almost daily up to 15th July; he was there that day—I am not aware when Mr. Newsom knew that the prisoner had signed that memorandum—he was absent almost the greater part of the time—Mr. Burke would be aware of it almost immediately, I dare say—there are three partners—I believe Mr. Burke is at the office—he was present at the Police Court—he has not been examined as a witness during these proceedings—he did not take an active part in superintending the accounts; he placed the accounts in our hands for investigation, and we made our report to the firm—I did not say I told Mr. Burke of this occurrence; no doubt he would be made aware of it, whether by my partner or myself, I am not aware—on all these three occasions the identical cheques were paid into the bank on the respective days—the fair cash-book was very much in arrear; I can't say how much, several months—the rough cash-book was entered up, but never balanced for a good many months; it was net balanced in any way that I could understand—the fair cash-book had not been balanced from the June previous; the ledgers, of course, were correspondingly in arrear with regard to the cash—I could not tell you how long there had been no entry made from the previous balance—the cash-book appears to have been balanced by Mr. Rutherford; he had audited the accounts up to the previous June—there was no change of partnership at that time—the firm of Newsom, Burke & Co. commenced business on 1st November, 1870, and this book refers alone to their business—there had been an audit or balance since then by my partner—on 30th June, 1871, the cash-book was balanced; there is no signature to it, but I know my partner performed the work previous to my being in partnership—I was not present—I have seen his balance-sheet—I had no concern with it—the prisoner told me that he was going to Yokohama—he did not tell me that his father, at the suggestion of Mr. Burke or Mr. Newsom, had made preparation for his going there—I did not hear from either Mr. Burke or Mr. Newsom that he had—I suggested some place to him where he could see the Brazilian papers, that was with a view of his obtaining any information he might want—I did not tell him that at New York I should be able to introduce, him to some of my friends—I suggested that I might be able to do so conditionally, upon his satisfying his employers as to the state of his accounts—that was about the end of June—it was after the 15th June when he signed the document which he called his death warrant—I most likely gave him an advertisement of the route—there are entries in the

cash-book of goods received from his father in respect to this money; they are not the prisoner's entries; they are all subsequent to the signing of the document spoken of—an estimate of the amount has been made—I should say it amounts to between 700l. and 800l., consisting of tea warrants, policy of insurance, debts owing, and harmoniums, watch and chain, & c.—the entries are Mr. Burke's writing—this (produced) is a summary of them; they are all credited; the prisoner was not present at the time they were credited to him; that was prior to his being given into custody.

Re-examined. These things were credited against the general deficiency—the 1230l. does not represent the total deficiency, it would be about 600l. more, of this firm alone; there was also a deficiency in the liquidation of the old firm—the 700l. or 800l. went against his general deficiency—he did not tell me anything about the tea warrants—I find entries in the ledger by the prisoner after April and May, 1871—the books have been balanced once after that date; they could not be correctly balanced, if omissions are made, no one could do so.

CHARLES RUTHERFORD. I am partner of Mr. Baird—I have been engaged in going through the books of the firm—I had a conversation with the prisoner, about 18th March, as to the subject of his deficiency and the accounts of the firm—a large deficiency had been discovered at that time—Mr. Newsom spoke to him for a very long time in his private room, urging him to confess the deficiency, and so save us further trouble in the investigation—he said "I can't confess because to do so would be to confess to an untruth, and I say in the sight of God, "or "I call God to witness"—I am not sure of the precise words—"I have not had one penny or one farthing of your money"—reference was made to the sums that were then shown as deficient in the cash-book, which amounted to the somewhat singular sum of 1111l. 6s. 10d—that was subsequently corrected, but it forms part of the 1230l.—on 8th April, I was present at a further conversation with the prisoner and Messrs. Newsom & Burke, in their private-room—he was asked to account for two specific sums of 45l. and 35l. paid into the bank—he said "Oh, I can't account for them, for their not being credited; but have you traced the notes?"—he was told there was no use in fencing any longer about it, that Mr. Burke had been to the bank—after a good deal of sparring and fencing the prisoner said "I suppose I must have had the money"—he said "I have securities to a very large amount, I have private property, and I will not only make good the whole amount of my deficiency, but I will pay for the expense of the investigation of the accounts"—he said he had property at Dorking, in the hands of the London and County Bank, which was in the joint names of himself and his uncle, Mr. Kilner—he spoke of his property as about 2000l.—on 13th April I saw the prisoner in the presence of his father and Mr. Newsom at his father's house, in Goswell Road, very late in the evening, I believe it was after 12 o'clock—the prisoner had not been at the office for three or four days, and Mr. Newsom and I went to his father's house and saw him there—his father said that he must make restitution of all the property that he could, that he, the father, could not do anything himself, otherwise he would do so; but that his son must give up all the property he had—his father asked him what property he had—he said some tea warrants and some jewellery, and a harmonium there, which he pointed out—his father said "Well, will you give up your watch and chain"—he said yes, he would on Monday—he said "Give it now, "and he took it out of his pocket and handed it to Mr.

Newsom, who returned it to the father—I said to Mr. Newsom, "I don't think you need have any hesitancy in taking it, seeing his father is willing that you should have it, as it has been purchased with your money, "and Mr. Newsom did keep it—I believe these things were credited at their full value—the prisoner said that on the following Monday he would make out a list of all that he had, and hand it over to Messrs. Newsom & Burke—I believe he did make out a list, and property was given up estimated at 700l. or 800l.; it has not been realised; that was partly the estimate of the firm and partly ours; as regards the warrants it was the estimate of the firm entirely—the total deficiency in round numbers is, I should say, within tens of pounds of 2000l., I mean nearly 2000l., of this firm alone, not the old firm.

Cross-examined. The old firm made a composition—I believe the harmonium is entered at 9l. 14s.—I believe that was what it realised—I dont know whether Mr. Burke is here; I have not seen him for some time—he was present at one of the conversations—he did not say in my presence that if the prisoner would hand over what he had they would not take any proceedings against him—I don't know why he is not here—I think Mr. Wontner asked at the Mansion House where Mr. Burke was—I don't think Sir Sidney Waterlow asked for him—Mr. Newsom and I did not go to the prisoner's father to see what we could get; we went to ascertain where he was, and if there was any truth in his statement respecting the private property which he said he had—Mr. Newsom did not in my presence ask the father to insure his life for 1000l.; something was said about insuring the father's life or the son's life—it was not said that the prisoner would give up all he had and the father would pay the difference—no doubt the prisoner was to give up all he had; probably it was suggested that he should raise the deficiency among his friends—the list of property we made out amounted to 714l.—the whole deficiency was not known at that time; I don't know that we have found out the last item yet—up to 5th June, it was over 1200l.—we found out large items after that, before the prisoner was given into custody—he was not assisting me in making up the books on 15th July—he was present, I was not; my partner was—I had audited the accounts up to June, 1871—many of these items would be included in that audit—I looked at the green cash-book; I noticed items struck out, but those were explained—the cash-book was made up to the 30th June—it was not made up subsequently—it was about the end of August that 1 balanced up to 30th June—I saw at the time that I made that audit that the cash-book did not go any further than June—I mentioned it to the firm, and urged upon them and the prisoner that the cash-book should be made-up and balanced monthly, and the prisoner promised that it should be—I found that had not been carried out, and that the firm had not had any balance since June.

Re-examined. When I audited I relied on the fair cash-book being correct, and also the ledger—I did not go through the rough cash-cook at all; I simply compared, as I was instructed to do, the amounts paid into the bank as shown by the fair cash-book and the banker's pass-book, and they agreed—the books tallied and justified one another—none of the amounts were entered twice over in the rough cash-book—I have gone into the prisoners accounts with the old firm, and found them largely deficient.

EDWARD BOWDEN NEWSOM. I am a member of the firm of Newsom, Burke & Co., wholesale tea merchants, 5, Great Tower Street, City—the

prisoner has been in the service of that and the previous firm seven or eight years—at the time he was given into custody, on 15th July, his salary was, I think, 120l. a year—he was confidential clerk and ledger-keeper—it was his duty to keep the books, the rough cash-book, the fair cash-book, and the ledger—on the receipt of moneys, he made entries first in the rough cash-book, then in the fair cash-book, and afterwards debited the accounts in the ledger—on 27th April, 1871, 200l. was owing to us by Sentence & Co.; on 12th May, 140l. by the same firm; and on 13th May, 205l. 2s. 6d. by Mr. Howgate—those sums were never accounted for to me by the prisoner—in the beginning of the present year, his books were very much in arrear—I spoke to him on the subject, and accountants were afterwards called in to go through the books, the prisoner remaining in our service—in March I had a long conversation with the prisoner, lasting five or six hours; the whole time he strongly asserted his innocence—I pressed him very hard indeed to confess what he had really taken, and be said "I solemnly swear in the sight of God I have not had a farthing, "and I said "If you can say that, you had better leave the place at once"—on 13th April I went with Mr. Rutherford to the prisoner's father's house—I think the prisoner had not been at the office for several days—previous to seeing the prisoner we had an interview with the father, detailing the circumstances of the case, and when the prisoner came in his father interrogated him on the point, and he confessed to having taken the moneys—his father said, "What is this that you have done"—he was rather vague in his answer, and I said "Now, Lake, tell the whole truth"—the exact answer he made I really forget, but he admitted taking the money—the father turned to him and said "Give up that watch"—he said he would do so on Monday; but his father took it from him and handed it to me, and I kept it—he said that he had tea warrants which he would give an account of on Monday, and the father said he should be in attendance on Monday morning to do so—I know of the balance of 1230l. being worked out—I was not present when the prisoner made the entry in the book—I found a large number of racing telegrams in his desk—they were produced in Court, but were mislaid—I have looked for them and cannot find them.

Cross-examined. I discharged him, I think, in March—I can't say the date exactly—it was not before the conversation with his father; I am sure of that—it was before the watch and chain were given up; I don't know whether it was in January, February, March, or April—I don't know whether Mr. Burke is here or not; he is in London—I heard you ask for him on the former trial, and I heard Mr. Wontner ask for him at the Police Court—I don't think Sir Sidney Waterlow asked for him; he asked if he was there—he took an active part in the matter—I am not aware that he made all the entries in this book about the receipt of the property—he received the amounts; I received nothing but the watch and chain and A' ring—the prisoner's father called on me several times—I did not tell him that if it would be any comfort to him and his daughters he might tell them that no proceedings would be taken—something was said about his son going away, and he said to me "Will you get him off?"—I said "I can't say so; but, if he will do his duty now, I will do the best I can with Mr. Burke, but Mr. Burke is determined to prosecute"—I did not say what his duty was, but my idea was that he should show where he had altered the accounts—the circumstances have been much aggravated since—I had not been speaking to the father about the property; I swear that—this

interview was on the Sunday, as the prisoner said he would bring the list of the property on the Monday—the prisoner remained till 15th July, when he was given into custody—we had then got from him all the property mentioned in this list; I don't know whether it included his school books—Mr. Burke received the property—Mr. Lake's visit to my house was some weeks prior to the prisoner being given into custody—items were being continually found out in the interval—Mr. Rutherford audited the accounts in June, 1871—I don't recollect his telling me that there ought to be a monthly audit; he said the books were not kept up—I did not after that see that they were kept up; I presume Mr. Burke did—I was very much surprised to find they were not kept up—we have always been in the habit of calling in an accountant to audit our books at our half-yearly balance—the fair cash-book should be a copy of the rough—I never looked over it.

Re-examined. The case has been aggravated since by the finding out of a number of items which have been abstracted, and also by circumstances of detail with regard to what he was doing; one was the fact of his going to the Derby instead of coming to us; and there were other matters which influenced me in giving him into custody.

WELLINGTON MORRIS. I am cashier to Mr. Sentence, of 92, Great Tower Street—in 1871 our firm had transactions with Newsom, Burke & Co.—on 27th April I paid a cheque of 200l. to the firm, and on 12th May I paid a cheque for 140l. on the London and Westminster Bank—they have been returned to me paid.


There was another indictment against the prisoner, for which see page 356.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-648
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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648. SIMON DAVIS (42), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.

MR. METCALFE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH with MR. BESLIY the Defence.

CHARLES EDWARD BILLINGE . I am an officer in the Probate Court—I produce the record in the case of "Davis v. Brecknell, "filed on 26th July, 1870—it was tried first on the 8th and 10th February, 1871, and the Jury were discharged—it was tried again on 13th and 14th March, 1872, and a verdict was found for the plaintiff—the record does not mention costs.

Cross-examined. I don't know that there was a motion made for a new trial and that the motion was refused.

JOHN WRIGHT POTTER . I am a solicitor at Rotherham—I have a partner, and we were solicitors for Mr. Brecknell in the suit of Davies v. Brecknell—I attended the trial in March, 1872—the defendant appeared as a witness on his own behalf—the oath was administered to him in the ordinary way—he was asked whether in the month of October 1869, he had ever been to the office of Mr. Coward with Mrs. Bailey—he said "I never went with her"—Mrs. Bailey was the lady who made the will—he said he never went at any time—he was asked whether he had been to Mr. Coward's office or not and he said he had not been there—Mr. Coward is a well-known attorney at Rotherham; he has been in practice I should think thirty-five years—he also denied that he gave any instructions about the will to Mr. Coward—the verdict was for the then plaintiff, the present defendant—after the case for the defendant was closed, a witness was called in reply, and there was no opportunity of answering that witness—Mr. Coward and his two clerks gave evidence at the trial in March, 1872—an application was made for a new trial and refused—the property was small, and that was the reason the application was refused—there was a caveat entered after the refusal; it

was discharged—we entered the caveat, although the verdict was for the present defendant—the costs were refused.

Cross-examined. My partner and I have been concerned in this matter from the very first, instructed by Mr. Brecknell, against whom the verdict passed—he is now prosecuting this case—at the first trial Mr. Coward did not arrive in time to be examined—the Jury were discharged without a verdict—the matter was re-tried in March, 1872—and then Mr. Coward was there and was examined, and also his two clerks—the Jury found a verdict upholding the will, but to the surprise of every one in Court—the caveat which was entered by me subsequently was discharged by Lord Penzance—I was not there on that occasion, but I was surprised at that—no other caveat was entered after that—I was not in Court when the motion for a new trial was refused—no doubt that refusal surprised me as much as the verdict of the Jury—I felt some disappointment, as most solicitors would do—Mr. Redhead was acting on behalf of a son of Mr. Brecknell—I believe Mr. Bedhead entered a caveat—he is an occasional agent of mine—I preferred a charge against the defendant of perjury before Mr. Arnold at the Westminster Police Court—that was in July—I obtained a summons from Mr. Arnold against Davis for perjury—previous to that two attempts had been made to obtain summonses from the justices in Yorkshire—we applied for summonses before the Magistrates at Rotherham—they refused because they thought they had no right to interfere—that was for perjury—the case was inquired into before Mr. Arnold, and Mr. Arnold refused to commit him, and then under the Vexatious Indictment Act, we preferred this indictment; that followed as a sequence—since Mr. Arnold refused to commit the prosecutor has executed a bill of sale—I object to say whether I have received any money from Mr. Brecknell—he is my client—he is here.

Re-examined. I have no interest whatever in this will, nor in these proceedings—I merely acted as the attorney in execution of my duty, believing it was a bond fide case for investigation—I am not well versed in criminal proceedings—the magistrate's clerk told me I had no jurisdiction in Yorkshire—Mr. Arnold knew that the matter had been investigated in the Court of Probate, and he simply declined to commit—I had Brecknell bound over in the ordinary way.

JOHN MYDDLETON WILLIAMS . I live at Rotherham—I am clerk to Mr. Coward, solicitor, of that place—the defendant called at our office in October, 1869, and I have seen him several times since—when he called in October, Mrs. Bailey was with him—Mr. Hoyland, an articled clerk, was also present—Mr. Coward was up stairs in his own room—it would be about the middle of October—Mr. Coward was engaged with a gentleman, and the defendant and Miss. Bailey remained in the office for about twenty minutes or half-an-hour before I went up to Mr. Coward—I had a good opportunity of seeing them during that time—the other clerk was there part of the time—after the gentleman had gone I fetched Mr. Coward down as the old lady was not able to walk up stairs; she was very feeble—Mr. Coward came down and asked their business—Davis said "She has come to make her will; she is to leave all her property to me, and I am to take care of her as long as she lives"—Mr. Coward then asked her whether she had any relations—she made no reply—Davis said she had some relations, but they lived some distance away—Mr. Coward said she was in such an imbecile state that he should decline to make her will; they then left the office—the old lady did not speak at all; she was asked questions, but she appeared to be in a

perfectly helpless, imbecile state, quite unconscious of anything—it was between 1 and 2 o'clock in the day when they came—the whole conversation took place in my presence—Hoyland heard part, but he went away to his dinner before they left—I have no doubt that the prisoner is the man that came—I never saw either of them before—I saw Davis again at the first trial in Westminster Hall, in February, 1871—when he was at the office he said "I live at Masboro'"—I was present at the trial, but I did not hear him examined—I was not in Court—I have not heard where he lives—he gave his address as Masboro'—he did not say where the old lady lived—I have no interest in this matter—I was merely subpoenaed to prove these facts as the attorney's clerk.

Cross-examined. I was examined at the trial—I was never asked the question with reference to the defendant having said that he resided at Masboro'—I was examined at the Police Court before Mr. Arnold, but the question was not put to me there—this is the first time I have stated it—I never saw Mr. Davis till I saw him at the office in October, 1869, and I did not see him again till 1871, at Westminster—he described where the property was—it was about the middle of October when they came, it would be before the 21st—I have not heard that Mr. Coward fixed the date as a particular day when one of his articled clerks went to Leeds for the purpose of having his preliminary examination—I came up to London on both trials—I did not hear a person named Salmon examined on the second trial—I saw him there—I know to whom you refer—he was a client of Mr. Coward's—he had been to Mr. Coward's on one or two occasions—I was asked whether he had ever been to Mr. Coward's office, and I said he had been on other business—I was not asked whether I had made a mistake, and that the person who brought the old lady was Salmon, and not the defendant—Salmon was brought into Court, and I was asked whether I had seen him before, and I said yes, that I knew him well—Davis was not asked to stand up—I was asked whether I had seen Davis, and I said "Yes," but he was not put up in the Court before me—Mr. Coward came down to the office to see the prisoner and the old lady—Hoyland was there when Mr. Coward came down—the old lady seemed unable to speak, and to all appearance unconscious—she did not reply to any questions.

Re-examined. Salmon is not at all like Davis—Salmon was called as a witness on the second trial—I saw him when he was called for me to recognise him, but I was not there when he was examined—we keep a call-book, but I did not enter the names of the persons—the man gave the name of Davis.

CHARLES LEACH COWARD . I am an attorney and solicitor, living at Rotherham, where I have practised twenty-six years—I have no interest of any kind in the will nor the slightest connection with Mr. Potter—I am subpoenaed here very much against my will—I remember a woman being brought to my office by a man, and in answer to my question as to who they were, the man represented her as Mrs. Bailey—I don't know the man, and have no belief who that man was—my clerk, Mr. Williams, fetched me down from my office; I went down and inquired what they came about, and the man said she had come to make a will—I said "Has she any relations or friend?"—I really can't say what he said, but it was to the effect that she had a son or a grandson, but they did not live in their part; that they had turned her up, meaning she had been abandoned; that he had agreed to take the old lady and keep her at his house while she lived, and she was

to leave him what she had—I spoke to the old lady, she seemed to take no notice—she sat in an arm-chair, and appeared to be unconscious—the man told me she was deaf—I shouted to her very loudly; she opened her eyes, but I could not get a word from her—I refused to make the will—the man told me her name was Mrs. Bailey and she was a widow, and that his name was Davis, at least I so understood it—the property was represented to be near Birmingham, and something was said about incumbrances being upon it—if we had done any business, an entry would have been made.

Cross-examined. The clerk would have made an entry if any business had been transacted—I believe the man said his name was Davis—I heard no other name; except that the name of Davis was made use of, my mind is a blank—I asked the parties who they were, the man answered "Her name is Mrs. Bailey, and my name is Davis"—Williams, Mr. Hoyland, and I another think clerk were there—Mr. Hoyland is here—the other clerk is not, that I know of—this matter was not called to my attention in any shape or form for eighteen months afterwards—I did not say that it occurred on a day when my clerk went to Leeds to pass his examination—I did not get to the Court in time at the first trial—I arrived just as Lord Penzance had commenced summing-up—the Jury retired to deliberate, and during that time I was in conversation with some of the counsel, and Dr. Tristram asked me if I thought I could fix the date, and I said it was some time about when Mr. Hoyland was going up for his examination—I have not since found out that that was on 28th October—I have not investigated the case at all—I was in time for the second trial, and I was also before the Magistrate.

Re-examined. It certainly was not Salmon I saw—I know him well.

CHARLES HUGH HOYLAND . I live at Rotherham—I am articled to Mr. Coward—I was clerk there in October, 1869—I remember an old lady calling; she seemed very infirm and old—a man called Davis was with her; the prisoner is the man, I am certain—I was present when they first came in—I heard that the woman had come to make her will, and that she was to leave all to Davis—the woman did not speak at all—the man gave her name as Bailey, and his own as Davis—I went to my dinner then—they had gone when I came back—it was somewhere about the middle of October—I can't fix it nearer—I have no interest in the will—I am subpoenaed to come here.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the persons before in my life—I did not see Davis for nearly eighteen months afterwards—I was not examined at the first trial, but I saw him in Rotherham after the first trial—I don't know Salmon by sight—my preliminary examination was about 28th October—that was the way I fixed October, because I knew it was about a fortnight before I went up—I knew it was prior to that.

Re-examined. I saw Salmon at the trial in the Probate Court—he certainly was not the person; he is not like Davis.

WILLIAM BRECKNELL . I live at Rotherham—the old lady, Mrs. Bailey, was my grandmother—I was her only grandson—my mother was the only surviving child, but she gave it into my hands—I did not know Davis before I came home from Australia, on 8th May, 1869—I got acquainted with him—he was merely a friend of the old lady's, as far as I can understand—she wrote to me three times while I was in Australia, and wished me to come over—Davis was no relation at all—the property was worth 500l. or 600l.

Cross-examined. I resided in Yorkshire after I came back, and the old lady lived with me about two months—I fetched her from Stafford shire—

she left me—she made complaints, but I don't know that she had anything to say against me—she got very discontented; she went to live with some one else before she went to Davis—she had been living with Davis some months before her death—they used to come when I was not at home, and try and entice her away—they never came when I was at home—I have been examined on all the trials—the Jury heard me and Mr. Davis and every one else, and found a verdict against me, but they did not hear Mr. Salmon until after every one else was heard—I appeared at the Westminster Police Court to prosecute Davis—I was not satisfied at the Magistrate dismissing the case—I don't wish to inform you what amount of money I have paid for conducting this prosecution—I am not supposed to answer what takes place between my solicitor and me—I know a person of the name of Rice—I have not told him that I had made a bill of sale for the purpose of securing my property, and that the moment this was over I intended to go to America or back to Australia—I did not tell him I had taken care to secure my property by giving a bill of sale, because I had no property to secure—I decline to say how much I have paid my attorneys—I have paid them something.

Re-examined. The attorney who conducted the case in the Probate Court on the other side is the gentleman who is now defending Mr. Davis—the old lady told me she had made the will in my favour—she did not mention any other will whatever—that was while she was living with me—I heard Davis examined and Mr. Edwards, the attorney—I heard Davis say in the Court that Mr. Edwards made the will.

Witnesses for the Defence.

FREDERICK EDWARDS . I was in partnership with Mr. Marsh, as solicitors, in 1869—in October, 1869, I saw Mrs. Bailey—she came to my office with the present defendant and Mr. Eyre—she seemed to me to be in a tolerably good state of health for an old lady—she understood perfectly everything I said to her—I put questions to her—I should say that she was then perfectly sane—she mentioned the name of Mr. Eyre, who was to be a witness—she said that he was a friend of hers, and had come with her to witness the will—I had previously suggested that one of my clerks should witness it with myself—she said Mr. Eyre had come on purpose—I read the will over to her—I had previous instructions for it—she actually executed it on Tuesday,. 26th October, and I and Mr. Eyre witnessed it—I read it over carefully, and asked her if she understood, and she said she understood very well—she died in the following February, 1870—I did not see her again before her death—we have been concerned for the present defendant in all his proceedings—we did not think the property worth more than 300l. or 400l.—there have been considerable costs in the litigation—Brecknell has not paid the costs that we have against him—I attended before Mr. Arnold, the Magistrate—he did not require any evidence for the defence—he dismissed the case without hearing any witnesses for the defence—he heard all the witnesses for the prosecution.

Cross-examined. I carry on business at Rotherham now, about 100 yards from Mr. Coward, at that time next door—Davis came with the old lady on 26th October, the day the will was executed—she executed it shortly after she came in—Davis came on Monday, the 25th, and brought with him an old will, dated, I believe, May, 1869, made in favour of Mr. Brecknell, and wished me to make another, and I told him to bring the old lady the next day—I told him as she was going to leave her property away from her grandson, I should prefer to see her before making the will—he

said, "I want you to prepare a will in my favour, as Mrs. Bailey wishes to leave her property to me"—he said he was living at that time in Victoria Street, Masboro'; that is a part of Rotherham—I saw from the will where the property was situate—the next day, he came with the old lady and Mr. Eyre—the old lady was advanced in years—I guessed her to be about sixty—I am not aware that she was seventy-two when she died—I could not say whether she was seventy-two or sixty—she was not more feeble than I should have expected—she walked up two or three steps to the office—I found her in an easy chair in the office, and, as the will was there, I thought she might sign it there instead of taking her up stairs—I had had a draft made out merely altering the name—I did not hear it proved that she was seventy-two—I should guess she was sixty, and I say the same now—I did not gay that there was no one with her; on the contrary, I said that Mr. Eyre, Mr. Davis, and Mrs. Bailey were in my office when I came from Sheffield—that would be a little after 5 o'clock—the will was engrossed—when I got back to the office I understood she had been there some ten minutes or quarter of an hour—a fresh draft of the will was drawn, the original is in the Principal Registry—I can't tell you where the first will is—it was in the Probate Court—what has become of it now, I don't know—the will that was proved is of course in the Principal Registry.

EDWIN EYRE . I am foreman at Messrs. Brown's Ironworks at Rotherham—I knew Mrs. Bailey eighteen or twenty years before her death—I remember her taking a place in Victoria Street and going to live with Davis, the present defendent—I was with them when they went to take the house—I could not say what month it was, but four or five months perhaps before her death—I recollect going to Mr. Edwards' office—Mr. Davis asked me to go—the old lady was living at Park Gate then—I remember signing the will—she was there—I went with her and Mr. and Mrs. Davis from Masboro'—we all went to the lawyer's on that day—the old lady seemed all right then—I witnessed the will—I saw her several times after that—I remember hearing of Mrs. Davis' children being burnt—I did not see the old lady after that—I don't know what state she was in just before her death—I saw her several times in fair health after she had signed the will, and she was then living at Davis' house—she seemed all right then—I have talked to her several times, but not about her property.

Cross-examined. I am a shingler by trade—I knew Davis by working at the works—Davis took the house, and Mrs. Bailey went to live there—she was living before at Park Gate, and Davis' house was in Victoria Street, Masboro'—I am not sure when she went to live with him but they were both living there in October in the same house—I knew of Davis going on the Monday—I did not know that she was going to make a will in his favour before that—he was seventy-two when she died—she appeared to be getting on in years—she was rather feeble—I can't say whether she had any difficulty in walking up stairs—I never saw her go up stairs—she had to go upstairs to bed of course; I know they had no beds down stairs—I got nothing out of the will, nor from Davis—I did not want anything—I shall get paid for my time coming here—I was paid for my time at the Probate Court—I went there twice—Davis asked me who was a likely gentleman to make a will, and I told him Mr. Edwards—that was on the Monday—he did not tell me he had tried any other lawyer—I

did not lead the old lady, she walked with Mrs. Davis—I don't think she took any one's arm—she appeared to walk as well as me.

Re-examined. I recommended Mr. Edwards because I had heard him in the County Court.

JOSEPH ABSON . I am a publican at Wentworth—I knew the late Mrs. Bailey well—I knew her for twenty years before her death—I saw her from time to time during the last years of her life—she was able to manage, her affairs in October, 1869—I have lent her money many a time, and have had conversations with her—I knew her living with Mr. and Mrs. Davis and also with Brecknell—before the will was made I heard her express an intention with regard to Mr. Davis; more than 20 times—I saw her from time to time in October and after October—I saw her a few weeks before she died—she had failed very much then—she was a remarkably active woman for her years, but she did not exactly know her own age.

Cross-examined. Perhaps she might be 72, at least she said to us she did not know her own age.

WILLIAM POLLARD . In 1869 I was clerk to Messrs. Marsh and Edwards, solicitors at Rotherham—on Tuesday, 26th October, 1869, I remember the defendant, Mrs. Bailey, and Mr. Eyre coming to the office and a will being executed by the old lady—Mr. Edwards was not in when they arrived, but came shortly afterwards—the old lady entered into rational conversation; she thoroughly understood what was said to her, and replied like any other rational sound-minded person—she thoroughly understood and replied to questions that were put to her by Mr. Edwards before the will was executed—I heard Mr. Edwards read it over to her and ask her if she understood it—she said that she did understand it—on Friday, February 18th, 1870, about noon, I had occasion to go to Doncaster, and was at the railway station at Masboro'—I there saw an old lady in the waiting-room, and several women round her talking to her—I did not recognise her then, but I afterwards found that It was Mrs. Bailey—she seemed to be in a very weak state physically, and incapable of sustaining any rational conversation—she was unable to reply to questions clearly as to where she wanted to go—she rambled something about having come from Park Gate, and wanting to go home—she was feeble and not very coherent.

WILLIAM TURNER . In October, 1869, I was in the employment of Messrs. Marsh and Edwards—I was present when the old lady was there signing the will—she was rational and understood what was said to her—I am now employed in the Post Office at Rotherham.

THOMAS SALMON . I live at Park Gate, and am a moulder—I was examined at the trial in the Probate Court in March this year—on a Friday in February, 1870, I saw Mrs. Bailey at the Masboro' Railway Station—it was three or four days before her death—she seemed very weak and feeble—I went with her to Mr. Coward's office—she said to me "I am so glad to see you Mr. Salmon; I shall come to your house, and I will live and die with you, and what I have got you shall have, and I will go to Mr. Coward's office to make the will, "and we went direct from there to Mr. Coward's—we walked there—it was about 1 o'clock when we got there; it was something like a mile—she walked there with me—I went in there, and told William the clerk what I had got to do—he told us to sit down, and the old lady sat down in the chair—Mr. Coward was engaged, some gentleman was with him—we waited some twenty minutes, and when this gentleman came down I went up to see Mr. Coward—he said "Salmon, I advise you to have

nothing to do with it, "and I am very glad that I took his advice and had nothing to do with it—when we came down, the old lady was dozing to sleep like—she went with me to the College Inn—she wanted some refreshment and I gave her some, and I took a cab and took her to Park Gate, to my son-in-law's, and she slept there—she got a little worse next day, and I got an order and took her to the workhouse on the Saturday night—I heard of her death on the Wednesday, as she died on the Tuesday—I left the neighbourhood before I knew of any dispute about the property, and resided at Darlington—I was there twelve months, and then came back to Rotherham, when I was asked to give evidence on the case; that was after the first trial—I gave ray evidence in the Probate Court last March—I went to Mr. Edwards first—I had not heard anything about the old lady going to Mr. Coward's office until I was at Mr. Edwards'—it was not about the will that I went to him, but on other business, and he asked me to come to give evidence.

Cross-examined. I think I was the last witness in the case—it was on the Friday before her death that I went with her to Mr. Coward's—she had not any home then—I picked her up at the railway station, knowing her so well—she said she was turned out altogether, and clung round me and would not loose me—she had not been drinking—she looked as if she wanted some one to take care of her—Mr. Coward knew me well; he had done business with me—I did not say my name was Davis; I did not know Davis at that time—I was then residing at Park Gate; that is not at Masboro'—I did not say that I was living at Masboro'—I went up stairs into Mr. Coward's room—a clerk showed me up—I can't say positively whether it was a younger clerk or whether it was William, that is Mr. Williams (pointing him out)—I can't speak to the other gentlemen—I knew Mr. Williams perfectly well by going there to do business—I got paid for going to the Probate Court—I expect to be paid for coming here—I was paid 3l. something for going to the Probate Court, besides my expenses—I am a moulder, and get 10s. a day.

Re-examined. I was four days earning the 4l.—that is all the money I have had for coming up as a witness—when I went up stairs to see Mr. Coward, the old lady sat down in the arm-chair by the fire—she did not go up—I can't say where she was living at that time, somewhere in Stone Row, I think—I took her to my son-in-law after leaving Mr. Coward's—she had not lived with my son-in-law before that.

COURT. Q. Where was it that Mr. Coward said to you "I advise you to have nothing to do with it?" A. Up stairs, before he had seen the old lady—I don't know whether he came down or not—he did not come down and ask her any questions and see what condition she was in—it was on my own statement that he said "I advise you to have nothing to do with it"—I did not know at that time that she had made a will in favour of her grandson—I did not produce any will made in 1869, no document of any kind.

GEORGE GARNER . In February, 1870, I was booking clerk at the Masboro' Station—I remember seeing an old lady there—she came to me at the booking-office window and asked for a ticket to Smethirk—I did not know her then, but I have since ascertained she was Mrs. Bailey—Salmon came up while she was speaking to me—I heard him say "If you will make the will over to me, I will keep you comfortable for life; if you don't, you will have to go to the workhouse"—I should say he was a

quarter of an hour or twenty minutes making this proposal to her—she said she could not do it, that a party of the name of Davis had her papers, and she could not alter her will—shortly after they left the station together—it was somewhere about 1 o'clock—I am now station-master at Guide Bridge.

MR. COWARD (re-examined). I know Salmon—it is not true that he came in February with the old lady and came up into my room—he never came up into my room, nor Davis either, and never made any proposal about her will—I only bad one such interview.

J. M. WILLIAMS (re-examined). It is not true that Salmon came in February with Mrs. Bailey and saw me—I never saw anyone about her will except Davis, who came with her in October.

C. H. HOYLAND (re-examined). I was at the office in February—I did not see anything of Salmon with Mrs. Bailey—I know Salmon since.

GUILTY Twelve Months Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-649
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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649. WILLIAM SAFFORY (41) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing 114 postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General — Five Years' Penal Servitude. And

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-650
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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650. WILLIAM KING (26) , to unlawfully delaying and opening certain letters whilst employed in the Post Office— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

NEW COURT. Monday, September 23rd, 1872.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-651
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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651. GEORGE SAMUEL CATTERMOLE (22) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.

HELOISE HOY . I am barmaid at the Victoria Station—on 23rd August, about 7.30, I served the prisoner with 3d. worth of brandy—he tendered this sovereign (produced)—I suspected it from its lightness, and took it to the barman, who told me it was bad—I sent for the manager, and before he came the prisoner left the bar without his change—he had asked for it twice, but I had not given it to him—I called after him, but he did not come back—I gave directions to Wybrow, who followed him.

Prisoner. When I tendered the sovereign you looked at it, and bounced it up two or three times? A. Yes; you asked for your change, and I told you to wait a minute—the booking office where you were standing in custody was about five feet from the bar.

ROBERT WYBROW . I am a barman—on 24th August I was at Victoria Station, and, in consequence of what the last witness said, I went after the prisoner, and saw him in the booking office—I said "You want change for a sovereign?—he said "I don't want any change"—I said "You have been in the bar and had some refreshment?—he said "Yes, but I don't want any change"—I had got this counterfeit sovereign in my hand, and said "If you will come with me, I will get you change"—he said "I don't want any change"—he repeated that two or three times—I left him in Mr. Sweeting's charge, with the sovereign.

Prisoner. Did not I say I want the change for my sovereign? A. No—you were not very greatly excited; you were cool and collected.

HENRY FREDERICK SWEETING . I live at Balham, and am manager of

this business—on 24th August I was in the principal bar, and saw the prisoner with Wybrow—I said to the prisoner "Where did you get this sovereign?"—he said "I got it at Croydon"—I said "Have you got any more like it?—he said "No; give it to me, give it to me"—I said "No."

EDWARD BARRY (Policeman B 332). Sweeting gave me this sovereign, and pointed out the prisoner—I took him in custody—I had the sovereign in my hand—he said "I did not think it was bad; I took it at Croydon races"—I found on him 2s. 7 1/2 d.—on the way to the station he said "Will you let me have a glass of ale?"—I said "No, I must not"—he said "You are a very bad man if you don't, because I know I shall not come out"—I asked him what he meant—he made no reply.

Prisoner. How is it you did not say that on the first hearing? A. I did not think it absolutely necessary—I have not said it to make the case stronger against you—you said it in the presence of the last witness.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This is a bad sovereign.

Prisoner's Defence. I received the sovereign for a bet at Croydon races. I had been drinking a good deal. I waited four minutes for the change, which I should not have done had I known the coin was bad.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTYRecommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-652
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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652. CATHERINE CLARIDGE (35), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.

MARY ANN BARNETT . I am the wife of Henry Charles Barnett, a frame maker—on 28th August the prisoner, who owed me 12s., gave me 2s. of it—I put one shilling on the shelf, and went out and bought some things with the other—in the afternoon I went to change the other shilling, and found it was bad—I went to the prisoner's house, but she was not at home—I afterwards saw her at the station, and charged her—she said that she was not aware of it—do not know whether the other shilling was bad; I passed that.

FREDERICK BLAY . I am barman at the "Corner Pin, "Goswell Street—on 28th August the last witness gave me a bad shilling—I gave it to my master, and afterwards gave it back to the prisoner.

SARAH LLOYD . I am nine years old, and live with my parents at 12, Little Arthur Street, Goswell Street—I have known the prisoner two or three months—she called to me from her room, between 7 and 8 one evening in August, and asked me to fetch a pot of beer—she gave me a mug and a shilling—I went and got a pot of beer from Mr. Haynes, the landlord—I gave him the shilling—he bit it and broke it in half, and I took the pieces to the prisoner's room with the beer, and told her the shilling was bad—she gave me sixpence, which I took to Mr. Haynes, got the change, and took it back to her—I saw her the same evening at the station.

ELLEN AMELIA BATES . I am nine years old, and live with my parents at 12, Little Arthur Street—on 28th August, between 7 and 8 o'clock, the prisoner called to me as I was playing in the street, and said "Here, little girl, I want you; will you go and get me a quartern of gin?"—she gave me a shilling and a bottle, and told me to go to the "Corner Pin "for it, and she would give me 1d.—I went there, and gave Mr. Haynes the shilling—he bit a piece out of it, and kept it—I left the gin there, and went for my mother—I went to the station in the evening, and saw the prisoner there.

MARY MATTHEWS . I am the wife of John Matthews, of 11, Little Arthur Street—the prisoner was a lodger of ours—on 28th August she owed us some rent, and gave me two shillings and two sixpences, which I put in a drawer, and in the evening I took one to the "Corner Pin, "and asked the landlord to try it—he bit a piece out of it, and gave me back a bad shilling, which I gave to the prisoner.

WILLIAM HAYNES . I am landlord of the "Corner Pin"—on 28th August the little girls tendered me two bad shillings—I broke the first, and sent it back to the woman, but the second I kept, and the girl Lloyd returned and paid me with a good sixpence—Ellen Baxter afterwards came back with Mrs. Matthews, who tendered me a bad shilling, and I gave it back to her.

CHARLES BAGERT (Policeman G R 32). On 27th August I went to the prisoner's room, and told her I had come to take her in custody—I searched her room, and found this bad shilling (produced) in an egg-cup in a cupboard.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are all bad—the one found in the cupboard is from the same mould as the one Sarah Lloyd took.

GUILTY She further PLEADED GUILTY* to a previous conviction of felony, at Worship Street, in December, 1869— Two Years, Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-653
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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653. ELIZABETH ROSE (24), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. COLERIDGE and DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM TURNER . I am a coffee-shop keeper, of 20, Holy well Lane—on 22nd August I served the prisoner with some pudding—she gave me a bad shilling, and I gave her in custody.

MORRIS O'CONNELL (Policeman G 119). I took the prisoner—she was charged at Worship Street, and discharged on 27th August.

ELIZABETH HAYS . My husband keeps a beer shop at Bath Street, Whitechapel—on 6th September I served the prisoner with a glass of ale—she gave me a florin, which I afterwards found was bad, and sent somebody after her—When I returned the prisoner was at my house, and I gave her in custody with the florin.

DANIEL COLE (Policeman K 287). On 2nd September Mrs. Hays came to the station—I went with her to her house, and she gave me this bad florin—the prisoner was afterwards given into my custody—she said "All right, I will go with you"—1s. 6d. in silver was found on her, and 5 1/2 d. in bronze.

ELIZA CLEAVER . I searched the prisoner at the station, and found on her 5 1/2 d. in copper and 18d. in silver, which she gave me out of her mouth—she said that she was an unfortunate girl, and she supposed she had taken the florin in that way.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . The florin and shilling are bad.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-654
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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654. GEORGE HILLER (20) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Joseph Bradley, and stealing therein one workbox and other articles, his property— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 24th, 1872.

Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-655
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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655. WILLIAM LAKE (24), was again indicted for embezzling, on 1st March, 45l., and on 22nd March 35l., received on account of Edward Bowden Newsom and others, his masters. (See page 341).

MESSRS. POLAND and DAVIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. METCALFE the Defence.

THOMAS CLARK NEWSOM . I reside at Orpington, in Kent, and am a partner in the firm of Newsom, Burke, and Co.—in February, 1872, I was their traveller—on 28th or 29th February I had collected for them 45l., which I transmitted to the firm in London by a registered letter in Bank of England notes, two 20l. and one 5l.

Cross-examined. I made this entry at the time—I did not take the numbers of the notes—I collected them in Sheffield—I think I changed gold and silver for them—I can't say where I got the notes, whether I changed them at a bank or whether I got them in the town—I sent them up from Sheffield—I have not thought of trying to get the numbers.

CHARLES RUTHERFORD . I am an accountant—I and my partner were called in to examine the prisoner's books—we commenced in December, 1871—the books were very much in arrear—the prisoner remained in the service for some time—he was employed there in March last—he kept the rough cash-book—I know his handwriting well—this entry of 1st March in the rough cash-book, "T, C. Newsom's journey, 45l., "is not the prisoner's writing; but the addition of this amount that ought to have been paid into the bank is in his writing—the entry is "T. C. Newsom, j. account (that means journey account), N. 20, N. 25, 45l."—"N." means "notes"—the next four items are in the prisoner's writing, also the word "bank" and the total, 162s. 7s.—I produce the paying-in book—here is the counterfoil of 1st March, it is the prisoner's writing, "1-3-72; N., 45l., 48l. 10s., 32l. 4s. 6d., 35l. 15s.; G., 10s.; S., 7s. 6d."—the first addition is 117l. 7s.—that is crossed through, and another addition made of 162l. 7s.—117l. 7s. would be the amount, omitting the 45l., and that being added makes it 162l. 7s.—immediately below there is the word "Country, 15l. 16s. 9d., 11l. 18s. 2d."—that means country cheques, so they would not go in to the credit, and are not included in the addition—the counterfoil of the paying-in slip is in the prisoner's writing—by that the amount paid in is 117l. 7s.; that omits the 45l.—this is the banker's pass-book—the prisoner would have access to that—I have frequently seen him with it, both when examining the accounts and in carrying on the business—there is an entry of 117l. 7s. credited to the firm on that day—in the rough cash-book of 22nd March there are several entries, the amount added up consists of three items, and the addition amounts to 235l. in the prisoner's writing—the entry is "22. S. Bradford, N. 30; W. Briscomb, N. 5"—that is not the prisoner's writing—then there is "William Sentence exchanged 200l."—that is the prisoner's writing, as well as the addition, 235l. and "Bank, 22-3" written against it—the counterfoil of the paying-in slip of that day is in the prisoner's writing; it is "22-3-72, 200l.; C. N., 30; N. 5: 235l."—"C. N." means country notes—I have the paying-in slip of that date—it is the prisoner's writing—it is "22 March, '72. Credit, Newsom, Burke, and Co., 200l."—the 35l. is omitted in the pass-book; the firm is credited with 200l.—there is no alteration there, or any obliteration or additional amount, and no alteration in the addition—the 35l. does not appear on the slip at all—the 200l. was paid in as a separate sum—there are two other items, but those, I believe, are country items, previously paid in—we have traced those; they are represented by the counterfoils—we have traced every item in the books from beginning to end—the books are now balanced day by day; unfortunately, they were not at the time the prisoner kept them—at

that time the addition in the rough cash-book would show the money to be paid in—the counterfoil would contain those, and the paying-in slip ought to do the same—after finding out these two sums there was some conversation in my presence between the prisoner and his employers on 8th April—Mr. Newsom was present—the prisoner was asked to account for those two specific sums—he said "I cannot do so"—he was told that he must do so, and after a great deal of conversation he said "Well, I suppose I must have had the money, "and then he went on to explain why he had on a previous occasion called God to witness that he never had any of the money—he said that what he meant by that was that he thought he had paid back all the money he had abstracted from the firm from time to time—I have gone into the state of the accounts, showing the deficiency from 11th December' last up to 8th April—including these two sums, it amounts to 570l. odd—that does not include the deficiency up to 11th December.

Cross-examined. I did not try to get the numbers of the notes—the entry of the 45l. is in the writing of Mr. Finch, who is a clerk in the office—I don't know whether he is here—I have not tried to get the numbers of the notes from him—the entry of the 35l. is also Mr. Finch's, I believe; several of the clerks write so alike that I could not be sure; undoubtedly it is Mr. Finch's writing—Mr. Burke is still in the firm—I' don't know whether he is here—I got these slips from the bank—I got other slips, not with me—I have not got the slip of 2nd March, or of 28th or 29th February, or of 21st or 23rd March—the cash payments of the firm were made by cheques, not by cash; simply petty cash—I find entries in this green-book of cash paid by the prisoner, not paid for tea warrants—I have gone through every item in the books from 1st November, 1870, to 31st May, 1872, to see whether he paid cash or not—I find that he has paid petty cash—that includes wages and small disbursements—I find cash payments for duty on account of the firm—they are very trifling, altogether probably 10l., I think not 20l.—there are not frequent payments for duty—it is a very extensive business—the payments for duty would not be once a week—I should say, without referring to the ledger, that over the whole period the number of payments made irregularly, through cash and not by cheque, would be about six or seven—that would not amount to 60l. or 70l.; not the half of it—there are not payments for warrants, duty, and petty cash amounting to very large sums; they are carried out into the ledger—there is a debtor and creditor account of the petty cash—I have not got the ledger here; I never understood that it was necessary to be here—this is the fair cash-book—there is, no doubt, an entry on 21st March "Customs, 45l."—I say that was paid by cheque, and 70l., on 22nd March—perhaps I may save you some trouble if I tell you that all the entries in the outside column are paid by cheque at the particular period you are looking at—"Petty cash, 3l. 10s." was paid by cheque—the entries in the inner column are either payments by cash or contra payments of amounts credited from travellers on the other side—"Salary, 5l. and 3l. "would be paid by cheque—this, 10s., 1d., would be charged by the bankers as discount of bills—"Journey expenses, 10l. 10s. "is simply a contra entry; on the other side you will find a credit of 10l. 10s. to the same individual—those items are carried forward into the fair cash-book; not by the prisoner, because he did not make up the fair cash-book at that period.

Re-examined. The entry referred to in the pass-book on 21st March is "45l. 13s. 3d., Her Majesty's Customs"—that was paid by cheque—the

entry on 22nd March is 70l. 12s.—that was also a cheque drawn in favour of the Customs; it could not have been paid in moneys—we have endeavoured to trace out these two sums of 45l. and 35l., to gee if they are in any way accounted for, and they are not—I have examined each payment into the bank, and those sums have not been paid in—I have here the counterfoils for two or three days before and after the days in question—I have compared those counterfoils, to see whether they agree with the fair cash-book; they accurately represent the money paid into the bank—this is the counterfoil of 21st March; it is in the prisoner's writing—that shows 212l. 12s. 8d. as paid into the bank that day—that precisely agrees with the pass-book and with the rough cash-book—it is partly in the prisoner's writing, not wholly; the addition is his—on 23rd March 253l. 7s. appears to have been paid in, and that exactly agrees both with the pass-book and the rough cash-book—I have been through every one of these counterfoils, for the purpose of seeing in that way whether the 35l. has been accounted for; if necessary, I can go through them counterfoil by counterfoil—I have examined them in the same way with reference to 1st March, to see whether the 45l. is accounted for, and it is not Accounted for in any way.

MR. METCALFE. Q. How soon after 22nd March did you discover those two items? A. They were discovered on 8th April—they were the two first items discovered.

JAMES BAIRD . I am partner of Mr. Rutherford—I have been engaged in examining the books of the firm—these two sums of 45l. on 1st March and 35l. on 22nd March are not accounted for in any way.

EDWARD BOWDEN NEWSOM . I am a member of the firm of Newsom, Burke & Co., wholesale tea merchants, in Great Tower Street—the prisoner was in our service as confidential clerk and ledger keeper—he kept the books, received money and passed it in to the bank; it was his duty to add up the sums; he had to pay in and enter the particulars in the counterfoils; the credit slip would agree with it, and be sent to the bank with the money—the 45l. sent by Mr. T. C. Newsom would be proper to be entered as one of the sums to be paid in on 1st March as well as the 30l. from Bradford, and 5l. from Briscomb—that 45l. has not been accounted for in any way, nor the 35l. on 22nd March—I was present at a conversation with the prisoner on 18th March, when he called God to witness that he had not taken any money of the firm—on 8th April he was called on to account for these two sums; he at first said "I know nothing about them;" I then said "Do not tell any more untruths about it, here is your own handwriting, unless you confess at once I shall give you into custody." (The Court decided that what was said by the prisoner upon this could not be received). I have been quite unable to trace these two sums in any way; they have not been accounted for.

Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner's father on a Saturday, I don't know the date, and he gave me a watch and chain—the prisoner promised to make out a list by the following Monday of goods which were afterwards received chiefly by Mr. Burke—I am not aware that Mr. Burke is here—the goods ultimately received amounted to somewhere about 800l.—the father came to me on the Sunday—I did not tell him I would not prosecute—I said my partner was determined to prosecute him—I said I would do what I could with my partner—I did not try to get the father to pay the rest; I am not aware that Mr. Burke did—I did not try to get him to get money from his friends, or to insure his life, I never heard of it

—I never heard of it before yesterday—I am sure Mr. Burke never promised that if they would pay over all they had, he would not prosecute—Mr. Finch is still in our employment; he has been sent for.

Re-examined. Mr. Burke is a party to this prosecution—the prisoner's father keeps a small grocer's shop—I went to his house with Mr. Rutherford on 13th April, the prisoner had not been to our premises for some few days; we had some communication with the father, and afterwards saw the prisoner in his father's presence—it was at the father's instance that I took the watch and chain, I refused at first—we determined to prosecute the day we gave him into custody, 15th July, from various circumstances which we thought very much aggravated the case.

Jury. Q. How was the prisoner paid? A. I think quarterly; I never paid him myself, it was my partner's duty to do that; he did not draw his own money—Mr. Burke does not refuse to come, but you must understand that three members of the firm cannot very well be away.

HENRY FINCH . I am a clerk in the prosecutors' service, and have been so since April, 1866—in the event of my receiving any money I should enter it in the rough cash-book if the cashier, Mr. Lake, happened to be out at dinner—this entry of 45l. on 1st March, 1872, is in my handwriting—the mark against it shows that it was composed of notes—I should keep the notes till the prisoner came in—I should say I gave them to him; I am sure of it—it would be my duty to make the entry, and then hand over the notes to the cashier when he came in—I know nothing further about that 45l.—the prisoner would make out the counterfoil and credit slip—on 22nd March I find an entry of "Bradford 30l., and Briscomb 5l.;" that is my writing, it consisted of notes—I should do the same with those as I did with the others—I very often came before the prisoner in the morning—one of the partners would open the letters—if the prisoner was not there at the time, probably the things would be given to me to enter—the two first entries on these two Occasions appear to have been entered by me—I can say that I did not misappropriate these sums.

Cross-examined. After so long a time, I could not, of course, say whether I gave them to the prisoner—I should say that I gave them to him most certainly—I would sometimes take on to the bank a slip made out by the prisoner; it was always made out by him—it was not sometimes made out by one of the partners or myself; chiefly by the prisoner; it was his duty to do it—I never made out a slip at that time; I have since—it was not my duty to make out the slip—as to this 45l., one of the partners would have opened the letter and handed the 45l. over to me—it would be Mr. T. C. Newsom—no—it would be Mr. Burke—he would open the letter and hand me the money, and I should keep it till the prisoner came—either Mr. Burke or Mr. E. B. Newsom, whoever came first would do so—I did not make any entry of the numbers of the notes, nor was any made by the partners—I should say either Mr. Burke or Mr. E. B. Newsom handed me over the 30l. and 5l., Mr. C. T. Newsom being away in the country at the time; they always opened the letters, not the prisoner—I often took money to the bank before that time; perhaps once or twice a week, perhaps three times—if the partner handed money, to me to take on to the bank, I should take it on—I should make an entry in the green-book before I took it on.

Re-examined. The first partner who came would open the letters—I could not now tell which partner opened the letters on any particular morning—all these slips for the two or three days before and after the days

in question are made out by the prisoner—it was his duty to make out the counterfoils—I see that I have sometimes made them out at that time—I scarcely made any—my writing does not appear for a long time either before or after.

GUILTY Five Years' Penal Servitude.

MR. POLAND stated the defalcations amounted to nearly 2000l.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-656
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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656. DAVID GAMELL (31) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously uttering two forged orders for the delivery of goods with intent to defraud.

Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 24th, 1872.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-657
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty

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657. CHARLES BRITTON (21) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously uttering a forged order for the payment of 2l., with intent to defraud; also to unlawfully obtaining 19s. 6d. of the Great Western Railway Company by false pretences— Eight Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-658
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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658. ELIZABETH PLUMBRIDGE (20) , to feloniously marrying William Kennedy, her husband being alive— Two Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-659
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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659. CATHERINE LAVINGTON (27) , to unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-660
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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660. GEORGE BACK (42) , to embezzling the sums of 30l. 17s., 4l. 19s. 7d., and 26l. 19s. 10d., of Alfred Newby and another, his masters— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-661
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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661. GEORGE SWAIN (34) , to feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 5l., with intent to defraud— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-662
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > penal servitude

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662. FREDERICK CLAPPISON (47) , to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering a cheque for 130l. 3s., and a deed of transfer of shares in the London and County Banking Company— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-663
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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663. MICHAEL SQUIRE (42) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Butler, and stealing therein one purse, his property.

MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS BUTLER . I live at 13, Batteson Street, Limehouse—on 25th August I went to bed at 12 o'clock, on having closed my premises—I sleep in a room over the parlour—I had closed the parlour window about 11 o'clock—about 3.30 a. m. my wife awoke me, and I heard the shutters and the window moving—I jumped up, opened the bedroom window, and saw a man's legs pass into the parlour—I called a policeman, and two or three came—I went down, and saw a policeman and the prisoner in the parlour—the policeman had this purse (produced), which is mine, which had been on the drawers in the parlour—I gave the prisoner in custody.

WILLIAM MUMFORD (Policeman K 538). I was called to this house—I heard talking, sprang my rattle, opened the shutters, and found the prisoner in the parlour, his head on a sofa, covering his face up—I took this purse from his hand, and asked him where he got it—he said the party told him to take it.

Prisoner. I had been drinking very heavily. Witness. He was not drunk.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-664
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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664. JOHN PALMER (32) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Stephen Northcott, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.

ANN NORTHOOTT . I am the wife of Stephen Northcott, of Staines Road,

Hounslow, a coffee-stall keeper—the prisoner lodged in our house; he is a carpenter—on 20th July we gave him a week's notice to leave—I was in the habit of putting his little girl to bed, and on 2nd August I called her to go to bed—she did not come, but the prisoner came and said that he was going to take her away to-morrow—I said that he might have told me, and that I would not let him have another thing out of my house until he paid me my rent which was due—he said that if we both came out to the kitchen door, he would pay us what was due—I went out at the kitchen door, and my husband followed—the prisoner took up this hammer (produced) and struck my husband on the skull—he then struck me with the thin end of the hammer and threatened our lives—I ran into the kitchen and fastened the door—he said he would do for us all, and he burst the door open, and broke off this catch (produced)—I ran to the front door and called Mr. Clark.

Prisoner. Q. Previous to your giving me notice to leave, did you find that I was going to leave? A. Yes; your child was always properly treated; you came in with her, and she was quite tight, and she told me she had been drinking—you put her to bed yourself that night, but I was in the house—there was another female in the house; she is not here; she was the only witness to the assault; she is not to be found—she went with me to the station to prefer the charge—I have not kept her away—a subpoena was sent to her address, but she was not to be found—you owed me 14s. 7d., and paid me 8s.—you were repairing your child's boots with this hammer.

STEPHEN NORTHCOTT . I am a coffee-stall keeper at Hounslow Barracks—on 2nd August my wife was in the front kitchen and I was in the back—my wife called the girl three times to put her to bed, and the prisoner said "I am going to take her away to-night"—my wife said "You never told me that; mind you don't take anything out of my house till you have settled with me"—he said "Come out and I will settle with you in a minute"—I went out, and before a word was out of my mouth he gave me a blow on the head with the hammer—I was knocked senseless, and have not been able to do anything since.

Prisoner. Q. Did you come out of the kitchen with an oath on your mouth? A. No, you paid my wife 3s. 6d. a week for the girl, and half-a-crown for yourself, I think; but I do not know anything about it—you had been out of work previously—I have never said that I could knock a man's brains out with my iron-arm—I have an iron hook to my arm—I did not hold up my hand in any way.

JOHN LYNCH . I live at Hounslow, and can see the prosecutor's house from my garden—I saw the prisoner there on 2nd August, and saw him hit the prosecutor with this hammer.

Prisoner. Q. How far off were you? A. About fifty yards—I could not swear that this was the hammer at that distance, but it is the hammer you had in your hand when I came round—I had to go round Booth Road, as my brother would not let me go down the garden—there is an opening through the trees in the garden; it is a market garden.

JOHN CLARK . I am a carpenter, of Isleworth—on 2nd August I was opposite the prosecutor's house—Mrs. Northcott came out and asked for my assistance—I went in to her, and saw the prisoner—he said he had begun it, and he would end it.

HENRY BULLOCK . I am a surgeon, of Hounslow—on the evening of 2nd August I saw Northcott, and found a compound fracture of the skull on the left temple, which could have been inflicted by an instrument of this

description—he is still in my hands, and I do not think he is free from danger yet.

Prisoner. Q. Could a blow be given accidentally with a hammer? A, Yes; a blow with any other instrument would produce it, and a fall might produce it.

GEORGE MANSBRIDGE (Policeman T 308). On 2nd August I toot the prisoner in custody—on the way to the station he said I did it in self-defence—I did not, do it with the hammer, but with this "iron-hook" (produced).

Prisoner. Q. Have you had any conversation with any one about this prosecution? A. One man spoke to me, and I told him that you said you could produce witnesses—he said if you wanted him. he would be 200 or 300 miles away.

Prisoner's Defence. I did it in self-defence. My intention was to take the child where she would get properly treated and made clean, to go away on the following Sunday. I was mending her boots, and the woman wanted to put her to bed. I said "Don't put her to bed, I am going to take her away to-night"—(the woman had given me notice to quit, because she had found out that I had taken another lodging). The prosecutor said "Are you, you b—, you shall not go away without a broken head, that is what I will let you have; I have an iron-arm here that will do it; I have let many a man have it." I had this iron hook in my hand, and threw it to keep them from me, and it caught him on the side of the head. I was not going away myself that night, but I wanted to take the child away because she was not properly treated. The prosecutor and his wife were the real cause of it. I never thought of doing such a thing. If the prosecutor had not commenced the attack upon me it never would have happened. The hammer was never in my hand.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-665
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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665. THOMAS CONNOR (25) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of George John Pocock, and stealing therein two watches and two gold necklaces, his property.

MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.

CHARLES BREWER (Policeman N 550). On 10th September, about 2 o'clock a. m., I was on duty in Essex Road—I heard a noise, and saw a man standing outside the prosecutor's shop—I went down by a lamp, and the prisoner saw me pass and crossed the road—I ran as fast as I could, but in turning the corner by the lamp I fell—I saw the side of his face, and saw the dress he wears now—the prisoner is the man—I was stunned by my fall, and when I came to my senses the prisoner was gone—somebody gave me information, and I ran down a passage, but saw nothing—in coming back, I found this card (produced) with two watches attached to it, in Green Man's Lane—I picked it up and rung the prosecutor's bell at 135, Essex Road—he came down, and I found the window broken, the shutter prized, and a little glass shelf removed—I informed other policemen, and among them Allingham—I was sent for to the station the same morning, and picked the prisoner out from five others.

Prisoner. Q. Did not you say before the Magistrate that you saw the prisoner's back, but did not see his face? A. No.

GEORGE JOHN POCOCK . I am a pawnbroker, of 135, Essex Road—on 12th September I went to bed between 11.30 and 12—my window was then safe and the shutter unbroken—the window was full of jewellery, and

two watches were attached to this card—when the policeman called me the shutter was down and the window open, and I missed the watches and two gold necklaces.

THOMAS TEW (Detective Officer N). On 12th September I saw the prisoner sitting down near the prosecutor's shop about 7.30, and again at 10.30, when some more men were sitting with him on the Thatched House steps, about 100 yards from this shop.

MAXWELL ALLINGHAM (Detective Officer N). I took the prisoner about 150 yards from Mr. Pocock's shop—I had received his description—I told him he would be charged with breaking into Mr. Pocock's house, and stealing two watches and chains—he said he knew nothing about it; he could prove where he was at the time—he was placed with other working men, and Brewer picked him out.

Witnesses for the Defence.

JANE M'CRAY . The prisoner lodges in my house—on Monday, 9th September, he slept there the whole night—I saw him go to bed, and he was in bed in the morning—he came home at 9.30, went to bed about 12, and left home in the morning at 10.15 or 10.30.

Cross-examined by MR. WOOD. He had slept in the parlour till that night, but that night he slept in the kitchen—he came in through the window on Sunday night, the night before, and he was blowed up for it—my husband objected to it, and then he changed places with us, and we slept in the parlour and he in the kitchen—the kitchen door is bolted, and a nail driven in—it has not been opened for some time—the prisoner has been there a fortnight—his coat and hat were in my parlour all night.

WILLIAM M'CRAY . I am a carpenter—I remember the prisoner coming home on this Monday night between 9.30 and 10, and going to bed and getting up in the morning—he was in bed at 7 o'clock, when I went to get some wood—his hat and coat were in the back parlour—I had told him that, in consequence of his coming in at the window on Saturday, he would have to sleep down stairs in the kitchen, and I gave him warning to quit the premises.

ALFRED FIRMAN . On this Monday night I was at M'Cray's house, and the prisoner entered shortly after 9.30, and he was in my presence till 11.45—his coat and hat were off, and M'Cray deputed him to sleep down stairs—as I was leaving the room he was rising to go down stairs.

Prisoner's Defence. On the night in question I went home, and was in the house till after 10 next morning. I went up the Essex Road, and was taken there. If I had committed the burglary, I should not have gone so near to where it was committed. My lodgings are a mile or a mile and a half from the place. There never was a man more innocent of a charge than me.


OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September, 1872.

Before Mr. Justice Lush.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-666
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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666. THOMAS WILLIAM WALTON (26) , Feloniously setting fire to his dwelling-house; Eliza Heath and others being therein.

MESSRS. POLAND and COLLINS conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS.


GEORGE PAYNE . I am a surveyor, of Whitehall Place—I have made a ground plan of the Britannia public-house—I produce the original plan

made to a scale, and these are copies—the house has a basement, ground-floor, first-floor, and attic.

GEORGE BEARD (Policeman, G 231). On the night of 3rd August I was on duty in a street near the Britannia public-house—there are dwelling-houses on one side, and on the other a passage bounded by the Metropolitan Railway—I saw the gas alight in the bar-parlour that night up to about 2 o'clock, as near as possible; I can't say to a few minutes—at 3.45 I observed smoke coming out of the cellar-flap, which projects on the pavement, and also under the bar doors, and from the fan-light, a pane of which was broken—I went to the side door in the passage and knocked and rang the bell and hammered and kicked at the door—some person answered me from the second-floor window; I can't say who it was, and in two or three minutes the prisoner came to the door; he had on his shirt and trousers and stockings, but no boots—when he opened the door I said "Your house is on fire"—he said "Is it?"—I said "Yes, you had better get the people out"—he then shut the door at once; he stood there hardly a second—I said "Come and see the smoke coming out in front"—he did not come out; he shut the door at once as I was standing at the door—I remained outside four or five minutes; I then knocked and kicked at the door again—the smoke was increasing—the prisoner came down again immediately, dressed just the same; he opened the door; I told him he did not seem to exert himself to get the people out, nor to see where the fire was—he was not agitated in the slightest—I then went into the house through the bar-parlour and opened the door into the bar; I shut the outer door—the prisoner went up stairs again—the bar was full of smoke—I closed the door again immediately—there are two doors out of the bar, one into the tap-room at the end of the bar, and the other into the bar-parlour at the other end of the bar—the bar-parlour was quite free from smoke—the fire-escape came almost immediately—the fire-escape man came in at the door; it was open—he went up stairs and brought down a child, and the other persons followed down—there were two lodgers, a servant, two children, and the prisoner's wife; the prisoner came down with them—it was unusual to see a light in the bar-parlour at two o'clock—I never saw it before at that time—I was past the premises a number of times between 2 and 3.45, and I saw that the light was out—other constables and the fire-escape man came and examined the premises.

Cross-examined. I saw the light up to about 2 o'clock, as near as I can say within a few minutes—I can hear the clock chimes every time I go round. King's Cross—I saw no light when I passed after that—the children were undressed when I saw them; in their night-clothes—the wife was dressed when she came down stairs—I should say that was about ten minutes after I first knocked—the servant had got her outside clothing on—she appeared as if she had put them on in a hurry—she seemed very much frightened—the lodgers were dressed; I can't say fully; they had their trousers and that on—they brought their box down with them—when I first gave the alarm the prisoner shut the door and fastened it—he unfastened it again and let me in after knocking again between four and five minutes.

JOHN THOMAS WARD . I was a fireman on 3rd August, in charge of the escape stationed at the corner of Liverpool Street opposite King's Cross Station, between four and five minutes' run from the Britannia—on the Saturday morning between 3.50 and 3.55 I received a call—I went at once with my escape to the Britannia—I noticed smoke issuing from underneath

the window and the doors of the bar; the door's were shut—I saw a light in the top floor window and I pitched my escape right under that window and I was in the act of going up when the constable told me I could get up the staircase—I then found that the side door was open—I took one of the lamps off the escape and went in and up the staircase to see if there were any inmates—I went into the prisoner's bedroom and there I found him and his wife ready dressed and a child lying on the bed undressed, fast asleep—that was the room where I had seen the light, the second floor front—I said it was rather a curious game to see his child lying a-bed fast asleep like that and his house on fire, and I was in the act of taking the child off the bed when the wife said she would carry it down—the prisoner made no reply to what I said; he seemed perfectly calm and cool about everything; all the dress that he was minus of was his cap—I then went into the servant's bed room on the same floor, the next room, I found her, as I thought, fully dressed—there was an infant lying in her bed fast asleep—I took hold of it and brought it down and gave it to a stranger or a policeman; it was undressed, in its nightgown—I did not see the lodgers at that time—when I came down the firemen had arrived, the volunteers came first—after I had moved my escape to the opposite side of the road, I walked back and found they had got the cellar-flap up, and had a branch down there working from a stand-pipe—I remained until the fire was put out—I examined the premises as far as I could—I noticed a quantity of paraffin or petroleum or some other kind of mineral oil on the top of one of the casks in the cellar, right under the funnel-hole which communicates with the taproom; the cask was standing on its end, the oil was on the head of the cask, not in anything—there was a very strong smell of this oil in the cellar, but I was a long time before I could find out where it was, the smoke was so dense—I afterwards went into the taproom with Mr. Bridges, the Superintendent of the Fire Brigade, and the officer, and there we found a quantity of wood shavings strewed all over the taproom, but the greater part was just round about the funnel-hole—there was a very strong smell of this oil in the taproom, the shavings were saturated with it; and there were stains on the wainscoting partition about two thirds of the way up.

Cross-examined. One of the children was about two or three years of age and the other about eighteen months—the oil on the top of the cask I took to be paraffin, it was a mineral oil of some kind—Inspector Hume was there and made a careful survey of the premises, with Mr. Bridges and Mr. Hutchins—the cellar where this cask was is right at the back of the beer cellar, it communicates with it; the flap was in the beer cellar.

Re-examined. I did not test what was in the cask—I did not notice anything burning in the cellar; it was full of smoke.

WILLIAM ARTHUR HUTCHINS . I am the officer in charge of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade at Farringdon Street—at about 4.54 on Sunday morning, 4th August, I was called by a policeman in a cab to go to the Britannia public-house; I went immediately—the Volunteer Fire Brigade had arrived at that time, and had been pumping with a portable hydrant—I went in at the street-door, and went first into the taproom—I observed a considerable quantity of shavings on the floor of that room—they were smouldering in two distinct places—there was a very strong smell of paraffin—I at once took up the shavings and smelt them; they smelt of paraffin of some description—I should say there had been a great quantity of paraffin upon them—they were wet, but, of course, water had been poured upon

them as well—I examined all the shavings in different parts of the room, and they all smelt of paraffin—the wooden partition had streams of wet oil in one or two places—I put my hand on it, and drew the oil from it—that was a boarding against the wall, 4 or 5 feet high—there were settles attached to the walls, and the greater part of them were covered with paraffin, and some had splashed on to the sawdust—there was also a quantity of paraffin on the table, and a large empty sack was nearly half saturated with it—there was nearly a sackful of shavings about the room, and many of them were burnt—the door between the taproom and bar being shut, there was no draught—the wooden panellings in the corner behind the tap-room door were considerably burnt; they had most certainly blazed—I then went into the cellar—there had been more fire there by a great deal than there had been in the taproom—there were consumed shavings on the floor; some partly burnt, and some not burnt—they were principally in the back cellar, the spirit cellar, immediately under the taproom—there is a funnel-hole about the size of a crown-piece communicating between the cellar and taproom, for the purpose of pouring 'spirits down—the taproom floor forms the ceiling of the cellar; it is only flooring, joisting—by the quantity consumed, I should say there were more shavings in the cellar than in the taproom; there would be at least a sackful—the staircase or passage, about 8 or 10 feet in length, leading from the ground floor to the cellar was else strewn with shavings—there was a smell of paraffin in the cellar, but not quite so strong as in the taproom—the ceiling was charred, but not to a great extent—the cellar is about 6 1/2 feet in height—on one of the casks, which was lying on its belly, there was a mound of sawdust and burnt shavings deeply saturated with paraffin, that was nearly consumed—I found an empty two-gallon stone bottle in the cellar which smelt very strongly of paraffin—I poured some into my hand; there were three or four table-spoonsful of paraffin, or a little more, left in the bottom—I should say there had been two distinct fires in the taproom, but not enough to clearly swear by, and one fire in the cellar distinct from the taproom fire—I am quite sure of that—I saw the prisoner shortly afterwards next door—I told him that the circumstances were very curious, and asked if he had had any repairs done lately, or could he in any manner account for the shavings—he made no reply at first, but he ultimately said, within a minute or two, that he had carried some through the previous evening into the back place, and he might have dropped some—I called his attention to the shavings more particularly in the taproom—he said he could not account for them—I asked who was the last in the place—he said he was—I think he said he went to bed about 1 o'clock—I took a cursory view of the stock; I did not see closely into it—I saw that all the spirit casks were empty; I should say there were about eight or nine in the cellar—the one on which the little mound had been was charred—I went up stairs with the inspector and the prisoner; he accompanied us through the house—a bed was pointed out to me in the front room second floor—the prisoner said that was his bed where he had slept, and a person drew my attention to the fact that only one person had lain in it—I noticed only the impression of one person—I put my fist on the bed to see if it was one—that would give an impression of a person lying on it, and my fist went into it; it was an ordinary soft bed—I told the prisoner the facts did not look as if he had slept there—he made no reply that I know of—I saw a cask standing on its top in the cellar—it is a mistake of the last witness; it was not paraffin on that, it was water

that had flowed down the funnel-hole; it was exactly under the hole—there was no paraffin among it that I could perceive.

Cross-examined. The bed was an ordinary bed, on an iron bedstead; there was an impression of one person having lain in it, on the side next the wall—I did not see a child on the bed, or any impression of where a child had been lying—the bed was against the wall—Ward is a man who has had very little experience in fires—he was with us for a very short time, and he has left—I should say a great quantity of paraffin had been used here—I could not form an idea how much—this (produced) is the jar I found—the sack I saw did not contain many shavings—there was another sack found under the staircase leading to the cellar—that was about the same size as the other, and was to all appearance empty—that was strung over a sort of wicket gate that was placed to keep the children from falling down the stairs—when I saw the lodgers they were dressed.

Re-examined. The name on the jar is, "Nathaniel Pollard, wine and spirit merchant, Epping"—I am perfectly sure that what I poured out of that jar was paraffin, or a description of paraffin.

WILLIAM HUME (Police-Inspector G). On 4th August, about 4 o'clock in the morning, I went to the fire—I was outside, in charge of the police—my attention was called by the last witness, and I accompanied him into the building—I went into the taproom—I should say there was nearly a sackful of shavings strewn all over the taproom—I took them up and smelt them, and they smelt very strongly of paraffin oil—the table in the middle of the room was also saturated with the same oil—the wainscot was stained with oil, and the settles or wooden benches—there was a sack with a quantity of paraffin oil on it—there was a quantity of charred shavings in the corner of the room, close to the door leading to the bar—the lower part of the door was also charred—I produce one of the panels—I have not any of the shavings—I saw charred shavings in different parts of the room—I should say there had been two distinct fires in the taproom—I went into the spirit cellar—there were shavings on the staircase and in the passage; they were not burnt, and did not smell of paraffin—the cellar door was wet with paraffin oil—there was a cask on its side, with ashes of shavings on it, smelling very strong of oil—there was a quantity of shavings strewn over the cellar, partly burnt and unburnt—I was present when this jar was found; at that time it smelt of paraffin oil—I poured out a portion of the dregs, and have not the slightest doubt it was paraffin oil—I found the prisoner next door, at a neighbour's house—I brought him in, and his attention was called to the shavings and the oil—we asked if he could account for it in any way; if he had had carpenters in the house—he said no—he said he had got in some shavings to light the fires with, and in carrying the sacks through the tap-room to the cellar some of them might have fallen out—I called his attention to there being about a sackful in the room, but he made no further answer—he said he went to bed about 1 o'clock, that he closed the house himself, and was the last up—I asked him to show me where he slept, which he did—he said that he slept with his wife and child in there, and I saw an impression of one person having slept in the bed—I could not see the impressions of two persons—the outer side of the bed had not been apparently slept in—there was no impression on the pillow—the clothes were off the bed altogether—I understood afterwards that they had been thrown round the children—I called the prisoner's attention to only one person having apparently slept in the bed—he declared

that he had lain there—I went downstairs and spoke to Mr. Bridges, and then came up again to the same room—the prisoner and his wife were then both on the bed, at least his wife was lying on the bed, and he was leaning half on and half off the bed—I told him that everything was very suspicious, and as he could give no account as to how the fire originated, I considered it my duty to take him into custody for wilfully setting fire to the house, there being other persons therein at the time—he made no reply—he took the policy of insurance out of his coat pocket, and handed it to his wife, and I took charge of it—I produce it. (This was dated ith March, 72, and was a policy effected with the Phoenix for 100l. on stock and utensils in trade, and 100l. on household goods, premiums paid 6s. up to Christmas.) I examined the stock—there was very little, and the furniture was very poor indeed.

Cross-examined. He had previously produced the policy to me and Mr. Hutchings in the adjoining house, and I handed it back to him after looking at it—I had asked him for it—his wife had it, and he went and fetched it—there was an iron railing at the foot of the bed—I only saw the impression of one person in the bed—that was on the side next the wall.

JOHN CLIFF BRIDGES . I am Superintendent of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade—I went to the house in question about 4.45, with the inspector and Mr. Hutchings—I examined the place—there was all the appearance of there having been two distinct fires in the taproom, but I could not positively swear to it—they were in different parts of the same room—whether the fire in the cellar was a separate one would depend on how the shavings were strewn—the fires could have communicated if the shavings had been laid over the hole where the spirit funnel passed.

DENNIS PONTON . I am a butcher—on Saturday, 3rd August, I was lodging in the prisoner's house with a man named Cousins—we occupied the same room, the first floor back—I went to bed about 11 o'clock that night—I remained in the room until the alarm of fire was given—my fellow lodger came in after me—I left the prisoner up when I went to bed, and the house was open at that time—I was awoke by the knocking' at the door—the prisoner was coming down stairs at the same time that I came out of my room—he called out, and said either that there was a fire, or the house was on fire—Cousins and I were the only two lodgers.

JOHN COUSINS . I am a butcher—on the night of 3rd August I was lodging at the prisoner's house—I had been there from the Tuesday previous—I went to bed that night just after Ponton, somewhere about 11 o'clock—we occupied the same bed—I did not wake till Ponton woke me up—the prisoner was up attending to his business when I went to bed—I was to have left on Monday morning.

EMILY HEATH . I am fourteen years of age—I was in the prisoner's service—I knew him when he lived at Hounslow—I don't know what he was there—when he came to the Britannia I came up also, about a week after Christmas, with his wife and two little children, one about three or four years of age, and the other about eighteen months—I continued to live with them there until this affair occurred—I was the only servant—on the Saturday in question the only persons who were in the house were the prisoner, his wife, myself, the two children, and two lodgers—my room was the second floor front—both the children slept with me—the room adjoined my master's—I went to bed about 10 o'clock on the Saturday

night—I did not go out of the room again until the alarm was give—I heard the knocking—my mistress came in after that and took the youngest child from me—she said the house was on fire, and told me to put something round me and get up—I got up at once, and when I was putting up my things the fireman came and fetched the other child out of my bed—when I first went to live at the Britannia there was a paraffin lamp there—I was carrying it up, lighted, one day, and dropped the glass and smashed it—that was soon after I went there—the lamp was not used after that—shavings were used to light the fires always—there used to be two fires, one up in the bedroom, and one in the bar-parlour; but not in August; there was only a fire in the bar-parlour then—I had not lighted a fire in the bar-parlour that day—the one in the kitchen was the only one in the house that day—the kitchen goes out of the bar-parlour on the same floor, not. down below—I was going to leave on the Monday; my mistress had given me notice the week before.

Cross-examined. I have not left yet—I am still living with the prisoner's wife—up to the time I heard the knocking I and the children were fast asleep—we were in the habit of having in sacks of shavings to light the fires—was the ordinary custom all the time I was there.

Re-examined. we did not have more than one sack in at the time—the last quantity came in on the wednesday before; that was a sack—was a; I saw—there were some shavings in the house then; a few that were dept in the cellar—they were turned out of the sack in the beer cellar—none of them were kept in the spirit cellar that I know of, nor in the taproom.

EDWIN DAVIS ESTELL . I am manager to Messrs. Wood & Co., brewers, victoria street, westminster—I also ant as agent to the metropolitan victoria street, railway, to let public-houses and beershops—on 4th January, 1872, I entered into a written agreement with the prisoner to let him the britannia—i have the agreement here—it is a licensed house; the rent was 17l. 10s. a quarter—the first quarter's rent was due in March; that was paid—the Midsummer quarter was not paid—I applied for it on he 29th July—the prisoner said he would pay the following week—he paid me 10l. for beer on that day—after the 4th august I put in a distress for the 17l. 10s. the goods were seized and sold.

JOHN CROW . I am a appraiser, of 88, vauxhall bridge road—after the distress for tent was put in at the britannia, I valued the furniture there, and things belonging to the prisoner—I valued them at 8l. 17s. 6d.—that included the whole of his property—there was some property in the house that belonged to the company—it was a forced sale by auction.

THOMAS HAYWOOD . I went to the britannia on the 29th august, after the fire, to value the stock by the inspector of police—the prisoner's wife was in charge of the house at the time—the value of the spirit was 2l. 19s. 9d.—the rest was beer, ale, and a little vinegar.

WILLIAM HUME (re-examined). after the first hearing it the police court, at the magistrate's suggestion, the treasury was communicated with, for the purpose of prosecuting this case, and they have conducted it—originally, there was no professional person engaged—the insurance office and the metropolitan railway were communicated with, but did not interfere—the magistrate suggested that some professional person should be

called in, and the prosecution is now conducted by Mr. Wontner, as agent for the Treasury.

GUILTY Ten Tears' Penal Servitude.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-667
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > fine

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667. ALEXANDER OGILVIE (70) , PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully signing a certificate, he not being a surgeon, by which one Charles Francis Mills was admitted into a licensed house for lunatics— Fined 50l.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-668
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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668. JOHN MINEY (35), and EMMA WAGHORN (20), were indicted for feloniously killing and slaying Edward Waghorn; they were also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.

MARY GIBBS . I am married, and live at 22, Craven Street, City Road—on 30th August, about 5.45 in the evening, I saw the male prisoner in the Hackney Road, sitting on a rail in front of a garden, and a little boy sitting by his side on the stone—when I came up, he put his hand to his cap, and I gave the child a halfpenny—the prisoner took it from him—I asked him how old the child was—he said three years of age—I thought it was dying—I said to him "The child looks very ill to me, "and asked if he had had any medical treatment—he said it had been in the Devonshire Square Hospital—I said "What did they say was the matter with it?"—he said "They said it was in a consumption"—I asked him if the child had a mother—he said "Yes"—I said "Where is its mother?"—he said the mother went out to work, and did not come home till 1 or 2 in the morning—I said "The mother is not out at work at that hour in the morning; is not there a policeman anywhere about that can take you to the workhouse?"—he said that they would not take him in, and he nipped the child up in his arms to go away, and said "I will take it home to its mother"—he went to go across the road, and I took hold of his arm to stop him—he said "Don't hold me; I am not a thief—I took him and the child to Bethnal Green Workhouse—he said "Don't take me to Bethnal Green, take me to Whitechapel"—I saw Dr. Adams at the workhouse, and the child was given over to one of the nurses—the authorities did not make any difficulty in taking it—I kept by the prisoner until he was given into custody—this was a great thoroughfare where he was sitting—he was putting his hand to his cap to every one that passed—two men came up while I was talking to him.

Miney. I did not ask her for a halfpenny; I only put my hand to my cap after she gave it, and said "Thank you." Witness. No; he put his hand to his cap before—of course I took him to be begging—he did the same to gentlemen who were going by.

HENRY BOTFIELD . I am a labourer, and live at 14, Francis Street, Hyde Road—on 20th August I was passing along the Hackney Road with a friend, and saw the male prisoner with the child beside him—as I came up, he put his hand to his cap to my friend, and my friend put his hand in his pocket to give him a penny; but the child attracting our attention, instead of giving it to the prisoner, we ran across the road to get some bread for the child, thinking it was hungry—my friend brought the. bread, and offered it to the child—it dropped its little head on its shoulder, and shook its head, as much as to say it could not eat it—my friend went across the road again, and bought it a cheesecake, and gave it—it snatched at it, and got it to its mouth, and took two little nibbles at it; and the prisoner took the child by the elbow, and said he did not want any cakes: he had cakes

in his pocket for it—he took the cake away from the child—I did not see where he placed it, as Mrs. Gibbs took him by the arm at the time—the child looked in a very weak state—I followed Mrs. Gibbs to the workhouse, and from there to the Police Station—she was talking to the man as we were crossing the road towards him—I saw her give the child a halfpenny, and saw the prisoner pick the child up in his arms, and take the halfpenny away from it—he did not put his hand to his hat after Mrs. Gibbs gave the halfpenny, but before.

Miney. Q. Did I ask you for anything? A. No, you put your hand to your cap to my friend—you did not do that after my friend gave the child a cake.

MARIA BLANKS . I am a nurse at the receiving ward at Bethnal-Green Workhouse—on 20th August, the child was brought there by Mrs. Gibbs, accompanied by the male prisoner; it was very thin and emaciated—I immediately called the doctor's attention to it, and he ordered it wine, beef. tea, and arrowroot, which I fed it with all night—I weighed the child—it was 17 lbs.—it afterwards went out of my charge into the infirmary.

ELIZABETH BOOTLE . I am a nurse in the infirmary—the child was placed under my care on the 21st—it was very thin and emaciated, and appeared to be dying—I gave it some warm milk at first, and it seemed to take it very greedily, as if it were hungry—I gave it a little rice boiled in milk—it ate that as if it wished it, and it would have eaten more if I had given it—it had nothing else the matter with it then, but about an hour after it was taken with relaxation of the bowels—it was not able to retain the food it took; it threw it up once or twice, but it was more relaxation than sickness—it lived until the 31st, and then died—it did not improve after the first two or three days—it never rallied—when I received it it was dressed in a night-gown, it came in that from the receiving ward.

MARIA BLANKS (re-examined). When the child was brought in it was dressed poorly, but it was wrapped up very warm.

EDMUND JOHN ADAMS . I am medical officer at Bethnal Green Work-house—on 20th August I received the child; it was very much emaciated, and looked very ill indeed—I treated it; it died on 31st—I heard the prisoner say when it was admitted that it was two years and a-half old; but I afterwards came to the conclusion that it was four years old; I judged by the teeth; it weighed 17 lbs.—if it were four years old it should weigh from 33 lbs. to 39 lbs.—the immediate cause of death was diarrhea—I made a post-mortem examination—in my judgment the diarrhea was caused by improper and insufficient food, and exposure to the outer air—I can hardly say improper food; I would rather say insufficient in quantity—the mesenteric glands were not diseased—the weather was not very cold at the time—the child was fairly clothed; it had no flannels on; I ordered it flannels directly it was admitted—the probabilities are it would have lived if it had had proper treatment; there was no disease to cause death; when a child is in a weakly state the being taken into the open air and kept there for some time would accelerate its death.

ELLEN SMITH . I am the wife of John Smith, a labourer—the two prisoners lodged with me at a registered lodging-house, 14, Flower and Dean Street—they took lodgings as man and wife, and brought the little child with them; they were there about five or six weeks—the man used always to have the child in his arms, and took great care of it; but the mother was very undutiful to it—I told her if she did not take it to the hospital she

must get fresh lodgings; that was about a fortnight before the male prisoner was taken up—she said she would take it, and she did take it to the hospital; she did not leave it there—I did not speak to her more than once about it; she said it was in a decline—the man used to be very good to the child in regard of giving it little nourishments—I have seen the woman unkind to it, shaking it, and swearing, and saying she wished it was dead—she used to go out in the daytime and come home very late at night; 11 or 12 o'clock—the man always used to have the child in the daytime; he took it out; he used to come home about 7 or 8 o'clock and get the child tea, and they used to go to bed—he fed it; he always set it down at the table with him, and when they were having their victuals together they would set the child in the middle of them, and it had what they had; but the woman was a very cruel mother; she would take and shake the poor little dear—it was very bad when they came to my place, very sickly—I don't know what the man did—he used to go out of a morning and come home in the middle of the day, and go out again with the child.

CAROLINE BOYDEN . I live at 13 and 14, Flower and Dean Street—the prisoners lived there as man and wife—I don't know how they got their living—the man went out in the daytime and took the child with him—I never knew him to do any work—the woman used to go out in the course of the day, and we did not see her again till 10, 11, or 12 o'clock at night, sometimes—the day before he was taken into custody, when he came home he said "I very nearly got into a deal of trouble about the child"—I said "What trouble?"—he said "Being taken up with the child"—I said "Certainly, and serve you right for taking the child out; it is in a dying state, "and he said "I will not take, it out anymore"—next morning I heard him say to his wife that he would not take it out—she said he should, and she swore at him; he put on his cap and coat and went out, and she followed him out with the child in her arms, and I never saw any more of them—that was about 10 or 11 o'clock in the day—I have spoken to her about the illness of the child, and told her that Mrs. Smith said she should not stop unless she took it to the hospital, and with a great deal to do she took it once to the hospital—the child appeared to be in a very bad state—I thought all along that it would not live, it looked dying—she was not altogether a good mother to it, the man treated it well; in regard of buying it little nourishments, eggs, and a little wine, and arrowroot, and stewed eels, and any little thing the child would eat; he was very kind to it, but as for the mother I can say nothing for her—I have not seen her give it food, without they were sitting together; but she gave no attention to it—they seemed to have comfortable food—I think the child was greatly neglected before this man took to the child; I don't think it was kept without food.

SARAH EVANS . I live at 18, Thrall Street—the female prisoner lodged there one night, three weeks after Christmas—she had a little boy with her; it was in a dying state—I told her it was very bad and to take it to the Union, or she would get into trouble, and sent her away, and I never saw her any more till about four weeks ago—she said it was not hungry, but it was walking about among the forms picking up the crumbs of bread—I never saw the man.

WILLIAM CHAPMAN (Policeman). I saw the female prisoner before the Coroner—she identified the body of the child as hers, and said that its name was Edward Waghorn, that it was about four years of age, and that its father

was drowned about five years ago; she also said that she was in the Hackney Road about an hour previous to the man being locked up.

Miney's Defence. We got what we could for the child, wine and arrowroot; we had no proper food to give it.

Waghorn's Defence. I was not unkind to it. I got what I could for it.

MR. JUSTICE LUSH was of opinion that the evidence was not sufficient. MR. GRIFFITHS suggested that if the child, being in a weakly condition, was taken out for the purpose of exciting commiseration and obtaining alms, and that, in consequence of exposure to the air for that unlawful purpose, its death was accelerated, it would amount to manslaughter. MR. JUSTICE LUSH did not think, although it would be a very culpable act it would be enough to justify a verdict of manslaughter.


NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 25th, 1872.

Before Mr. Baron Cleasby.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-669
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

Related Material

669. WILLIAM PHILLIPS (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to Feloniously forging and uttering a record of Her Majesty's Court of Divorce, purporting to dissolve his marriage— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-670
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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670. JOHANNES CHRISTIANSEN (28) and CHRISTIAN BERNSTON (25) , Feloniously killing and slaying Johann Christian Petersen.

MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MOODY the Defence.

THOMAS GRAHAM . I am a watchman in the employ of the Millwall Dockyard Company—on 12th September, about 12 o'clock, I was on duty, and heard the noise of men wrangling, and then a splash in the water 4 or 5 yards from the wicket gate convenient to the bridge and about 30 yards from where I was standing—I called out "Help! help! a man overboard!" and ran with the lifebuoy in the direction of where I heard the splash, threw it into the water 4 or 5 yards, but no one took hold of it—I then gave the land end of it to the mate of the Nile—he is not here—I saw the two prisoners and a third person on the bridge before I heard the splash—I did not see any one fall, but I only saw two afterwards—the prisoners did not come and help me when I called out—they were looking at me—I went and got the drags, and dragged for twenty minutes, and almost immediately after I had finished dragging, the prisoners came to the wicket gate which admits persons into the docks—I let them in, and they came through—I asked them what ship they belonged to—they both spoke and said Von Platten, and passed on—I sent a man after them, because I was suspicious, and sent for my sergeant, and reported the matter to him. (The witness here pointed out on a model the position of the swing bridge, the wicket gate, and the lock gates.) I ran across the lock gates with the buoy—there are three iron chains on the bridge, with stanchions about 3 feet 2 inches high.

Cross-examined. Coming from the lock to the swing bridge there is no fencing or guard—persons coming on this side from the river could not pass along here, because there is a gate which locks; the bridge comes across the public road, and a gate and paling prevent persons from going to the unprotected part—it is about 15 yards from my lodge to this gate—the bridge is 84 feet long—there are lights on the bridge inside and outside—it turns round on a pivot, and there are no lights in that part a it—the light is seven or eight yards from this end, and the same distance

from the other end, and there are two lights on each side of the pier head—a little light burns in the box all night—I do not know who the third man was—the prisoners both appeared sober—it was a very loud wrangling—I should call it a row—there were only words till the splash came.

Re-examined. When I heard the wrangling I looked in this direction, and saw three men; and after the splash I looked on the bridge and saw only two—there is a gate here which was locked that night—it is always locked, except when a ship is coming in.

JOHN CHAPLIN . I am a sergeant of the Millwall Dock Company—I prepared this model on a scale—the bridge is 125 feet from end to end, and there is 80 feet span of water—it is about 128 feet from the watchman's box to the end of the bridge, but where the men stood is a little nearer—he can stand in his box and reach the wicket—it is about 10 yards from the bridge to the lock gate—there are two very large carriage roads on the bridge, and outside them on each side are the public footpaths, which are a foot and a-half wide—the descriptions of the chains and stanchions is correct—Graham called me up on the night in question, and I went to the ship Von Platten, which was lying nearly a quarter of a mile off in the river dock—I went on board, and shook Bernston, who was asleep—he awoke, and I asked him how many men came aboard the ship—he said "There are two of us"—I said "Where is the other one that was with you on the bridge?"—he said, "In the water I believe"—he can talk English very nearly as well as I can—I said, "What makes you think he is in the water?"—he said, "Because I was standing with him and that man, "pointing to Christiansen, "on the bridge"—I would not allow him to say anything more—I tried to awake Christiansen, but could not, as he would not—I rubbed him and pulled him—Bernston then said, "We three were standing together on the bridge; me and the man who is in the water were always good friends, the other two were wrangling together; after they had been quarelling some two or three minutes I turned round and left them to go to the dock, and in about a minute I heard a splash in the water, and turned round and saw the man struggling in the water like a dog, "and he put up his hands like this—I asked him if he called for any help or assistance—he said, "No, I did not; I went towards the gate to the police-station"—I said, "Did you do so?"—he said "No"—I said, "What became of the other man?" he said "In about two or three minutes he came round by another direction to me and said, 'Let us get on board'—I said, "Did neither of you call out for assistance?" he said "No, we went on board"—I could not awake Christiansen, and I believe he had been drinking—When I got back, I assisted in dragging for the body, and we found it in about an hour and a-half afterwards under the centre of the bridge—it is dead water; there is no flowing in or out only when they are locking. We communicated with the Metropolitan Police, and the prisoners were taken.

Cross-examined. I went to the ship about 12.50 and found both men in their berths, sound asleep—other men were in their berths—I saw the officer of the ship—he is not Jacobson.

JURY. Q. Is any one allowed to go on the upper carriage-road on the bridge? A. Yes; it is public—there is a separate fence to the carriage-roads—you can hardly see over—there is a high division between them—a person passing over the carriage-road cannot get to the footpath.

Re-examined. You can easily walk round the fence.

FREDERICK CARVELL . I am an outdoor Customs House officer—on the

evening of 12th September I was on board the Charity barge in the docks, from 80 to 100 yards from the bridge, and just before 12 o'clock I heard a noise like two men quarrelling; it was very loud, but I could not make out whether the words were English or foreign—I then heard a very heavy smack as of flesh meeting flesh, and directly after that a splash in the water, and some one called out—I did not see a man come along this bridge, but I heard chains rattling and saw a light, but could not see the person with the light.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that I heard a sound as of the clash of flesh; us the smack of an open hand—I thought it was on a barge close to the bridge—I was on the same side of the water as the wicket-gate, and about 8 yards from the noise—I had no means of leaving the barge, as she was not lying against the dock.

LEWIS JACOBSON . I was mate of the Von Flatten at the time the accident happened, but I left that day—the two prisoners were seamen on board—they were shipped in Sweden—Johann Petersen was also a seaman on board—the last time I saw him alive was about 1 o'clock in the day on the 12th—he was working at the cargo with the other two when I left—they were all three good-conducted men, and, as far as I knew, there was no ill-feeling between any of them—they always seemed to be the best of friends, and I had to deal with them hourly, so I know—I did not see them again till the morning of the 13th at 8 o'clock, when I said "You must have been beastly drunk last night; I can see it now, "and I knew that they had no liquor on board.

Cross-examined. The ship was going out of dock that very morning, but she was detained till the next day on account of these men being taken away—the men have a little drink the night before a ship goes away—I had seen the prisoners and the deceased for three months—they may have had a word over their work, but nothing of any consequence—I wish to explain that any sober man may fail in there on any dark night—these chains are not fit to be taken hold of.

COURT. Q. What did you notice? A. The stanchions, instead of standing so and being tight, are in the shape of a davit, and the chains hang slack, and will throw a man into the water in a moment—they were tightened a little a day or two afterwards in consequence of my speaking to the Dock Company about it—I say that the chains were so slack that a person could not steady himself by them—a person could fall over them or through them—he would have no time to get over them; he would be in the water in no time—the stanchions were not straight; they were outward toward the dock, and the points and the top chain hung over the water—they had got bent out of their places through the chains being slack—you might stumble against them, and trip over them in a moment.

JOSIAH SERGEANT. I am a surgeon—I saw the dead body of this man—death had been caused by drowning—there was a slight graze on the nose, just on the skin, where something appeared to have scraped it; it might have been the drag.

Cross-examined. There was an old wound partially healed on one eye brow, but that had nothing to do with the death.

The prisoners' statement before the Magistrate. Christiansen says "I helped the constable with the life buoy—I was there a quarter of an hour."Bernston says "When I was on the bridge I heard something in the water, and called out 'Have you got any boat?'—I stood on the bridge while they were dragging for the body."


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-671
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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671. MARGARET KELLY (18) , Feloniously killing and slaying Ann Sullivan. She was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.

CATHERINE READY . I am single, and live at 25, Castle Alley, White chapel—the deceased, Ann Sullivan, was my step sister—she was single and about thirty years of age; she was a tailoress—the prisoner is a sack-maker, and lives in Castle Alley—on Wednesday, 14th August, Sullivan and I had been out, and between 3 and 4 o'clock we saw the prisoner—she and I had some words, and we beat each other; we were separated then, but my sister happened to push the prisoner, who hit her across the eye, and said that she would either do for me or my sister before the night was out—she has a palm in her hand, which is a piece of canvas with iron on it—at 12.15 that night we saw the prisoner again in Castle Alley; she had a sacking needle and a pen-knife in her hand—she caught my sister by the hair and threw her down—I could not see which instrument she used, but my sister called out "I am stabbed, "and she was picked up bleeding from the back of her head—when my sister was on the ground the prisoner was on top of her—my sister was taken to the hospital and the prisoner went away—she did not go home that night—we had said nothing to provoke her, nor had we done anything only what happened in the day time—my sister came from the hospital with a bandage on her head—she afterwards became an in-patient, and on the Wednesday she died—we had two pots of beer between us in the afternoon; I do not think we had any more afterwards.

Cross-examined. The first row occurred in Castle Alley, by the prisoner's house—no one was with her then, and there was only my sister with me—the prisoner and I flew at each other like two cats; we both began first—that was before we had any drink—live at 25, Castle Alley, and the prisoner lives right opposite—after the fight I and my sister and Mrs. Crawley went and had two pots of beer between the three of us—the pots were only filled once—we then went home, but we did not have any more drink—we then went for a walk in Whitechapel but we did not go into any house, we had no money for drink—we walked about till nearly 12 o'clock because my sister was frightened to go up the court, as our lives were cautioned in the daytime—the prisoner was sitting on her door-step at 12 o'clock and the moment she saw us she got up—neither of us said a word—I heard Ellen Kelly examined before the Magistrate, but I still mean to say that we did not begin jawing—the prisoner must have got the best of the first fight because she gave me a scratched face and a black eye—I did not make her nose bleed—she said in the daytime that she would do for me or my sister before the day was out, and she made her words true—I am a charwoman in regular work—go out washing and cleaning every day, if I can do it, but on the Monday, me and my sister went to the Rye House, and on the Tuesday we did not feel inclined to go to work, nor on Wednesday, the day this happened, either—I did not see my sister on the Thursday, as I was out from 7 o'clock a.m. till 12 at night, and when I came home she was in bed—she used to drink a drop of beer sometimes.

Re-examined. She was not a person of drunken habits; for four months and six months she never touched a glass of beer or spirits, only ginger beer or lemonade.

Jury. Q. In what position did your sister fall? A. On her back—the

prisoner took the palm off her hand at night, but it was on it in the day-time—I do not know what became of it.

TIMOTHY LEARY . I live at 26, Castle Alley, next door to Ann Sullivan and Ready—on 14th August at 12 o'clock at night I saw them standing in the alley before they came to their own door—I saw the prisoner come up, she ran against Sullivan and knocked her down and fell on her, and her head caught the corner of the doorstep—the prisoner was picked up first and Sullivan was then raised from the ground—blood was coming from the back of her head, and she said to the prisoner "She might have hit me but not stab me"—the prisoner said" Oh, what a lie!"—I did not see the prisoner do anything while she was lying on the deceased.

Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner and Sullivan jawing—Sullivan said "You might have hit me as long as you liked, but you should not have stabbed me;" those were the words, and the prisoner said "Oh, that is a lie, everybody see it!"—she was only down half a minute—I saw no weapon in the prisoner's hand.

ESTHER CAVANAGH . I am a machinist, and live at 18, Jacob's Court, Castle Alley—I was in Castle Alley about 12 o'clock on this night, and saw a confusion between the prisoner Sullivan and Ready—they were standing up and jawing outside the prisoner's door—I went into Jacob's Court for three or four minutes, coming back I saw the deceased being raised from the ground, bleeding, and I heard her say that she was stabbed—I did not hear the prisoner say anything to that.

Cross-examined. I did not hear it all—the prisoner was not sitting on her doorstep; the three were standing together for four or five minutes—I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand.

PATRICK REGAN . I live at 27, Castle Alley—I was coming down the court about 12.30, and saw the deceased after she was picked up, or after she got up, I do not know which—I did not notice that she was bleeding—she said "You might have hit me as long as you liked, but not to stab me"—I did not hear the prisoner say anything—I saw nothing in her hands.

Cross-examined. The prisoner ran against me, and I shoved her; that was afterwards—I did not hear her say" Oh, that is a lie, everybody saw it!"—I was just coming down the court, and was not listening a great deal.

CHARLES WALLACE DREW . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was brought there on the night of the 14th, suffering from a cut on the back of her head, an ordinary lacerated scalp—I did not pay particular attention to it at that time beyond ordering a bandage—it was three inches long and did not extend down to the bone—a wound caused by the skull coming in contact with the stone would not necessarily be contused—I gave her a letter which admitted her as an out-patient—I do not know whether she attended on the 16th and 17th, but on the 18th she became an in-patient—erysipelas had then set in—I attended her in the hospital, and she died on the 21st—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination; the viscera were perfectly healthy—the wound in the scalp was in a straight line obliquely from the centre of the upper part of the head downwards towards the right—there was a very small wound over the eyebrow which was so slight that it had almost healed at the time I made the post-mortem examination—the cause of death was erysipelas supervening on the wound; it was certainly caused by the wound—that is the danger of a wound on the head—I should say certainly that the wound was caused by

the head coming in contact with the doorstep, and not by a cutting instrument.

HUGH ANDREWS (Policeman H 62). I took the prisoner on 21st August, in Castle Alley—I told her I took her for causing the death of Ann Sullivan—she said "She came up and struck me first, and pushed; there were two or three of them on to me, and I gave her a push, and she fell, and out her head on the doorstep."

ELLEN KELLY . I am the prisoner's sister, and live in Jacob's Court, Castle Alley—that is the house in which my sister lodged—Jacob's Court turns out of the alley—I live in the middle house—on the day Ann Sullivan was hurt I saw her and my sister and Ready fighting at each other—there was a good deal of jawing, but I heard no words—it lasted half an hour or an hour, and Sullivan and Ready went out of the court—they came into the court again about 12 o'clock at night, and the prisoner was standing on another person's doorstep, with her baby in her arms—Ready struck the prisoner, who put the child out of her arms, and returned the blow, and they were fighting at each other—Sullivan then made a move to strike the prisoner, who gave her a push like this, and she fell on the corner of the doorstep, and the prisoner fell on her—they were both lifted up, and Ready ran over and caught the prisoner again—Sullivan's head was bleeding, and she said "You might hit me, but not knife me."

COURT. Q. How long after Sullivan was taken up did she say that? A. As she got up off the ground, but she did not have any knife—Ready also said "You might hit her, but not knife her"—they both said that—all the prisoner said to that was "I did not use no knife to you or anything else"—it was an hour and a half after that before Sullivan went to the hospital—my sister had not got the "palm" on her hand in the evening; only the baby in her arms.

Cross-examined. When they spoke about knifing her, she did not say "It is a lie."

JURY. Q. Was she lying along the doorstep, or with her face to the street? A. I do not know which way she fell; but she fell on the corner of the doorstep; her head went on the corner of it—it was a new stone step with a sharp corner.

COURT to CATHERINE READY. Q. When you went back at 12 o'clock at night, did anything pass between you and the prisoner? A. We each beat each other then.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-672
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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672. JOHN MCCARTNEY (45) , Feloniously killing and slaying Elisabeth McCartney.

MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAM

the Defence.

SERAPHINA MCCARTNEY . I am the prisoner's daughter—I lived with him and my late mother at 19, Cable Street—on Saturday night, 10th August, I got home between 11 and 12 o'clock, and saw my mother standing by the street door; the prisoner was in the kitchen—I had not seen my mother strike him, but he got up and said that if she struck him again he would strike her with the shovel, which he was picking up at the time; and he got up and struck her with it on the right side of her head, I think, but I cannot tell for certain; I know it was on the top of her head—she put her hand up to her head and said "Oh, my God!" but she did not fall—no blood flowed from the blow—it was with the flat part of the shovel, not the sharp

part—this is the shovel (produced), it was with the side—my step-brother, William Kelly, rushed into the room, and was going across the room to my father, but I held him back—my mother attended to her business for a fortnight afterwards—she said that she bad a swimming in her head at times—paralysis then came on, and a doctor was called in, on the 20th I believe—I was with her the whole week.

Cross-examined. The skin was not broken by the blow, that I know of—she did not go to a doctor—it was not a very hard blow; it did not cut her—she has had very bad health since she had the small-pox just after Christmas—she and my father were, I believe, very good friends the next day.

WILLIAM JOHN KELLY . I am a chimney-sweep, and lived in the same house with the prisoner and my late mother—on Saturday, 10th August, I came home and saw my mother and his daughter, the last witness, standing in the shop, and the prisoner standing in the kitchen, the door of which opens into the shop—he could hear what passed between me and my mother—I said "What is the matter?"—she said "Nothing"—I said "If you go to bed, open the back door and I will come in at the back, "and when I came in again they were in the kitchen, and they followed me—I lit a candle and walked up stairs into the top back room and then walked down on to the next landing, and heard the prisoner using language which is not fit for publication—I did not see him do anything to my mother nor did she in his presence make any complaint, but she showed me her on the Sunday, and I saw a small dent which you might lay your finger in—I could not see whether the skin was out or broken, but seemed to be a white rim round it—it was not bleeding—she afterwards complained of dizziness and flashings across her eyes—she saw Mr. Low, a doctor, and had two bottles of medicine from him—he is not here.

JAMES SCOTT SEQUIERA (M. R. C. S.) On 20th August I was called to the deceased and found her partially insensible and paralysed on the right side—she recognised me, but she could not articulate distinctly—she was not able to make any statement to me as to the cause of her illness—my attention was not then called to any injury on her head, and I did not look for it—I saw her on Wednesday and twice on Thursday and on Friday—when I went again she was dead—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination and found no injury on the body, but there was a mark of a recently healed wound on the left side, very near the centre of the head—it had apparently been a contused wound—on opening the scalp there was a congested and inflamed patch of imflammation under the external mark, and a corresponding one on the pericranium or covering of the skull—there was no mark on the internal surface of the skull, but under the dura mater and directly under the external mark there was a large clot of blood on the surface of the brain—she was an immensely fat woman—there was a layer of 3 or 4 inches of fat over her bowels—all the organs were moderately health; the liver was rather congested and the spleen was large—the heart was quite healthy—there was a tendency to a deposition of fat in all the organs; a tendency to fatty degeneracy—her death arose from extravasation of blood on the brain—that would not be caused by the injury, but it would predispose to the formation of the clot—the mark was evidently from some external cause, and it must have been caused by some violence, which, in such a subject, would predispose to the formation of that clot of blood—there being an interval of nine days, it prevents my being so positive; if she became paralysed immediately on the receipt

of the blow, I should say that that was the cause; but during those nine days I cannot say what happened, because she died from apoplexy, which is pressure of blood on the brain—the complaint of dizziness of the head and eyes would lead me to come to the cause of the injury, but it is only an opinion—my idea is that there was an injury received which set up an injury or congestion of the vessels underneath, and some after cause might cause the blood to form, such as a violent fall, or another blow, or great excitement—there was undoubtedly mischief set up in her head, and if she had lain up and not attended to business, the chances are that it would have become absorbed—the predisposing cause was, I should say, the injury received.

COURT. Q. It is tolerably clear that if this clot of blood had been caused at once by the blow she could not have done as she did? A. Certainly—I cannot say how the dot was formed, it had evidently been formed entirely, if not altogether, at once, and I believe at the time of her being paralysed, for the clot was homogeneous throughout, which woulds how that it was all formed at one time—the substance of what I say is that she died from apoplexy, which might certainly occur constitutionally; I can only say that the blow would predispose to an attack of apoplexy—supposing there had been no blow, I should not have been surprised to find an attack of apoplexy.


THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 25, 1872.

Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-673
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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673. WILLIAM HENRY SHERIDAN (33) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a barometer and a case of surgical instruments, the property of John Charles Hare, from his dwelling-house, and a lancet case of William Byron Hill — Nine Months' Imprisonment. And

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-674
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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674. WILLIAM CHARLES JARVIS , to unlawfully publishing a defamatory libel of and concerning John Bergheim — To enter into his own recognisance in the sum of 200l. to appear for judgment when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-675
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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675. GEORGE MIDDLETON (33) , Stealing 8l. 16s. 10d. of Mary Ann Ryle. Second Count—the moneys of the Queen. Third Count—of the Postmaster-General.

MR. METCALFE and MR. AUSTIN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution;

and MESSRS. HARRIS and SMITH the Defence.

ROBERT JAMES . I am one of the principal clerks in the Savings Bank Department of the Post Office—if a person wished to withdraw a sum of money from the Savings Bank the first thing would be to obtain a notice of withdrawal, which can be had at any post office—he would then write on that notice the name of the office at which his book was obtained and the number of the book, fill in the amount he required, and give the name of the office at which he wished to receive the money—he would then sign the notice and give his address where he wished the warrant to be sent to him—that notice would be received at the head-office, and the signature would he compared with the signature to the declaration made when the account was opened, and, if correct, his account would be debited with the amount, and the warrant sent to him, and, at the same time, an advice would be sent to the office of payment—this notice was sent to the Post Office in August, and this is the warrant and advice made out in consequence—the notice of withdrawal applies for 10s.—the warrant is for 10s., and the advice also—

the signature to the notice was compared and found to be correct—on the same day a notice was also sent to the Post Office for the sum of 8l. 16s. 10d.—these are the advice and warrant, and they were sent on the same day to the same office—this is a correct copy of the prisoner's account—it shows that there was 11s. to his account on that day, and he draws out 10s., so that the account was not closed—the 10s. would be entered before the warrant was sent.

Cross-examined. I presume that the signature is the handwriting of the prisoner, but I don't know his writing—it purports to bear his signature—I did not see him sign the original declaration.

Re-examined. The signatures correspond—it is my duty to be satisfied about the signatures.

MART ANN RYLE . I am clerk in charge of the High Street Branch Post Office, Notting Hill—the prisoner made this declaration before me on 6th January last; he signed it in my presence—a savings bank book was then issued to him—at that time he lived at 40, Kensington Place, and since that at 2, Palmerston Street, Notting Hill Gate—the number of the book is 4476—on the 22nd August I received this letter of advice, "Pay to Middleton 10s."—I also received a letter of advice to pay Harriet Baker, 8l. 16s. 10d.—they were put into a pigeon-hole—they are always put in one place—Miss Crockford is also a clerk in the office—about 10.45 she brought me the book and the warrant—I went to the counter and saw the prisoner—I compared the signature on the warrant with that inside the cover of his book—after the warrant issued from the office gets into the hands of the prisoner he is required to put his name to it as the form of receipt for the money—I found his name there, and compared it with the signature in his book—I found they corresponded, and I took up the advice which I thought Miss Crockford had laid down for me, as she generally used to do so, and put it over the warrant for 10s.—upon looking at the advice I found it was for 8l. 16s. 10d., and I paid the prisoner that amount with a 5l. note, three sovereigns, half a sovereign, 6s. 6d. in silver, and 4d. in copper—I took it from the ordinary till—I put down the date and 8l. 16s. 10d. in the prisoner's book, and signed my name against it—I stamped it, showing that that money had been paid in reduction of the account—I laid the money on the counter in front of the prisoner—there is a brass network in front, between me and the customer—I laid the net: down first and counted the gold and silver on to it—he took it up, and returned him the deposit-book—I put the warrant and letter of advice together on the file with the paid warrants; that is the ordinary course—there was no one on my side of the counter at that time—Miss Crockfond was doing her work at the other end of the counter—Mr. Taylor was on the public side; he could see all that was done; he was waiting to cash a money order—there was a telegraph messenger there—in the course of the day Harriet Baker came for her money, 8l. 16s. 10d., which I paid her—I looked for her letter of advice and found it on the file with the warrant for 10s.; nearly at the bottom of the file—I think it was between 4 and 5 o'clock that she came in—a short time after that I proceeded to make up my accounts and found I was 8l. 6s. 10d. short—on looking into the matter I found the letter of advice for 10s. in the pigeon hole—it had not been taken out at all—the warrant for 10s. was alone on the file, and the advice in the pigeon hole—I went to the prisoner's house, but he was not at home—I "was going a second time, but Mr. Taylor came after me and

said would he go, if I was afraid, and I was to follow—I saw him bring Middleton out, and I went back—Taylor brought him into the office—I asked him what money I gave him in the morning—he said "10s."—I said "What else?"—he said "My book"—I said "What else did I give you?"—he said "Nothing"—I said "Yes, I did; I gave you a 5l. note, three sovereigns, half a sovereign, and 6s. 6d. in silver"—he said "I am quite sure you did no such thing"—I said "I have a witness to prove that I did do so"—he said "lam quite sure you have not"—I had sent for a constable—he came in, and I repeated the questions again—I said "Have you got your book in your pocket"—he replied "No, I have burnt it"—I said "Why did you burn it?'—he said "Because, I had no more money in"—I said "That is not the reason, you have burnt it because you saw the entry I had made in it"—he replied "I have seen no entry"—I said "I have a witness to prove that you had the money, "and then I pointed to Taylor, and said "That is my witness"—Taylor said "I saw you take the money; it is no use denying it, and I will go into any court of justice and swear that you had it"—the prisoner said" Is that what you have brought me here for Joe; I am surprised at you"—the policeman refused to take him into custody, and I took out a summons—the prisoner said he had burnt the book because there was no more money in—there would be a shilling left, and he would not be able to obtain that without producing the book—there was only one figure different in the numbers of the two warrants.

Cross-examined. The defendant said "I declare to my God I never received more than 10s.;" and he also said the policeman might search him—I can't say how many entries there were in his book; I should not look at the former entries—they are all-on one page—this is a correct copy of his book—he paid in 1l. 1s. on January 6th—I merely signed the book, and I did not notice that he had only got 11s. in it—there is not a single sovereign down except the first item—there is not a single entry for a sovereign of money drawn out; I say, in the face of that, that such a mistake might arise—I don't look at the depositor's book except for his name—if I had seen that he only had 11s. I should not have paid him what I did—I was busy at the time—I might have paid out 70l. or 80l. that day in small sums—when I paid Baker I thought there was some mistake, but I did not find it out till made up my accounts—I had filed the wrong warrant, and I took it off the file again, but I was not certain till I balanced my accounts in the evening—I was afraid I had paid it, but I was not sure; it was some hours afterwards—I did not know that I had paid any one too much until after I had balanced my accounts—I did not know that I had paid any customer 8l. 16s. 10d. who had presented a warrant for 10s.—I knew Taylor, as a neighbour, as long as I have been in the office, nearly three years—I did not know the prisoner, only by his coming in—I went to the prisoner's house first and then I went to Taylor—I asked him if he knew who he was speaking to in the office in the morning, and he said he knew perfectly well—Taylor is a hairdresser; I don't know what the prisoner is—I asked Taylor if he knew what money I gave him—he said "Yes, you gave him a 5l. note and some gold and silver"—I heard Taylor say, at the Police Court, that he heard me count out the money to the prisoner: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, but he corrected himself afterwards—he said he heard me count out the sovereigns in that way, but on the instant he said "I was wrong, it was a 5l. note and 3l. in gold"—I recollected that I had paid a note when the circumstance came before me and I came to

remember—I did not take the number of the note—before we went to the Police Court Taylor said that I had given a 5l. note—I asked Taylor, for my own satisfaction, to know if any one else really knew what I had given; I knew that I had done it before I went to Taylor—a corporal of the telegraph boys was at the office in morning when the prisoner and Taylor were there—I can't say whether Taylor or the prisoner come in first; I don't know—I can't say how long Taylor was there; the prisoner was there two or three minutes, while the entry was made—he went out first—I did not make any entry on the sheet till the close of business in the evening—I copy the amounts from the letters of advice—I made the entries on the sheet before I balanced—I entered on the sheet a payment of 10s. to Middleton from the warrant—the thought did not strike me that I had given this man too much until I balanced my accounts—Taylor said, "I am quite sure if you did pay him he will give it you again;" that he was a very respectable man, and he thought he was not quite sober at the time; that he might have taken it not knowing what he had, and he would certainly return it if he had it—that was what Taylor said of Middleton.

Re-examined. I make these sheets up at the close of the day—the red ink marks are the corrections by the Post Office—the entry "Middleton, 10s., "is scratched out because I did not send the warrant—presuming it was right I placed the money down with the intention that he should take it up—I had not power to part with money belonging to the Post Office—this money did belong to the Post Office—I should not have paid him the 8l. if I had known the warrant was for 10s.—when I found Baker's letter of advice on the file I concluded that I had put it there improperly.

JOHN ABBEY . I am a lance corporal of telegraph messengers—about a month ago I was in the Post Office at Notting Hill Gate one morning—I am engaged there—Miss Crockford and Miss Ryle were at the counter—I saw Taylor there; that was about 10.45; I did not see the prisoner—I saw Miss Ryle take a 5l. note and some cash out of the till; she took it down to the further end of the office—I was in the office again, late in the afternoon; I saw the prisoner come in; he pointed to a part of the office, and said he had been standing there—that was near the door, in the direction in which Miss Ryle took the money when she had taken it out of the till—Mr. Taylor was standing near me in the morning—when the prisoner was brought in, in the evening, I was sent for a constable—I did not hear the prisoner say what money he had received.

Cross-examined. I heard him say he had not received more than 10s.—I only saw Taylor in the shop in the morning—he was near where I was standing—the shop is not very big—I saw a 5l. note paid out—I did not notice any other 5l. note paid during the day—Taylor was in the office when I went in—I did not see any one else in the shop then—if there had been, I might not have taken any notice.

Re-examined. My duty is chiefly in the basement—I was sent up with a message for Miss Ryle—I was waiting near the desk to give it her—when she went with the 5l. note, she went in the direction of the place pointed out by the prisoner afterwards.

JOSEPH TAYLOR . I am a perfumer at 26, High Street, Notting Hill—I have known the prisoner some time; he is a hairdresser by trade—about 10.45 on the morning of 22nd August I went to the High Street Post Office to cash a money order—the letter of advice had not arrived, and I did not get my money at that time—the prisoner was in the office when I went in

—I spoke to him, and went to the end of the office, about 2 1/2 yards from him—I saw Miss Ryle pay him 8l. 16s. 10d.—she took it from the till directly opposite where I was standing—she stamped the 5l. note, and put the money on it—the prisoner put his hand out, and drew it under the wire—at that moment I presented my order to Miss Ryle, and when I looked round the prisoner was gone—I saw Miss Ryle hand him his book, but I did not see him take it up—I went home directly and told my uncle, because the prisoner had so much money—on the afternoon of that day Miss Ryle called upon me—in consequence of what she said, I went to the prisoner, and took him to the office—Miss Ryle asked him how much she had paid him—he said she had paid him 10s.—she said "What else?"—he replied "My book"—Miss Ryle asked him to produce his book, and he said he had burnt it—she asked him why he had burnt it, and he Raid because he had no more money in—she said he had another shilling, and it was very singular he should have burnt the book, and that he had burnt it because of the entry she had made—I don't remember the reply he made to that—a policeman was sent for, but he refused to take him—Miss Ryle pointed to me as being present in the morning, and I said that I saw it, and was ready to come forward—the prisoner said "Is that what you brought me here for, Joe; I am surprised at you."

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner some years—he has always borne an excellent character for honesty as far as I have known—he is the same profession as myself—I said to Miss Ryle, when she came, to me, "If he has taken it, it is in mistake, for he is a very respectable man, and he will rectify it if he has taken it, "or words to that effect—he was a little intoxicated when I took him to the office in the evening—I should not like to say how he was in the morning—I thought at first he had taken it by mistake; but, finding he would not acknowledge it, I thought differently of him—I went and told my uncle that Middleton had had a 5l. note and other money paid him at the Post Office—I said at the Police Court that I heard Miss Ryle count out the sovereigns—it was a mistake, I was under such a severe cross-examination—I corrected myself at the same time—I said that she counted one, two, three, and so on, but it was a slip on my part—I have known Miss Ryle as keeping the office for some time—it was on my tongue to call her attention at the time, but I thought it was not my business.

Re-examined. I corrected myself before the Magistrate, and said she paid a 5l. note, and counted six, seven, eight with the gold—she stamped the note—I had a conversation with the prisoner in the morning—I asked him if he was still out of employment, and he said he was, and he did not think he should accept a situation he had been offered at Brighton—I think he knew what he was about at that time.

HENRY LAMBERT . I am a hairdresser at Notting Hill—I know, the prisoner—about 9 o'clock on the morning of 22nd August he came to the loor, and asked me to stand some beer—we had some—he said all the benng the halfpence in the morning—he said it was all right, he had plenty of money—he pulled out a purse with five or six sovereigns and some silver in it—I said, laughing, "One would suppose you had been robbing somebody"—he said "No, "it was au right, and he asked me if I

could not send out the boy for some whisky—I said "No, "he would have to wait.

Cross-examined. He had worked there as assistant, and I had known him a great many years—I never knew anything wrong of him.

MR. HARRIS submitted that there was no case, Miss Ryle having intentionally parted both with the property and possession, that the prisoner did not obtain the money by means of any fraud, and had dove nothing to induce her to make the mistake she did; he referred to "Reg. v. Mucklow" (Moody's Crown cases, p. 160); and "Reg. v. McGrath" (39 Law Journal, Magittrate's Cases, part 7). MR. METCALFE contended, that as the prisoner's warrant was for 10s. only, he must have known that he had no right to receive 8l. 16s. 10d., and although it might be said that he found it, he was bound to return it, as a person would who found anything in the street, if he knew to whim the property belonged. Miss Ryle only acted as the servant of the Post Office, and had no right to part with the money. The DEPUTY RECORDER: "The question is, whether the circumstances enable us to interpret this fraud into a larceny. Supposing I go to receive 14s., and a person pays me 15s., and I walk away with it, am I guilty of the larceny of a shilling if it was a mistake on the part of the person who paid it? but here Miss Ryle intends to pay it, and does pay it, I have consulted Mr. Justice Lush, and he has confirmed my impression, but has rather grave doubts whether this would amount to larceny. He thinks it had better be left to the Jury, and take their opinion on the facts, and I will reserse the point as to whether there was a larceny in this case.GUILTY. The Jury recommended him to mercy on account of his previous good character, and the temptation which presented itself at the moment. They also found that he was aware it was the money of the Post Office at the time he took it, and that he had the intention of stealing it .— Judgment reserved.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-676
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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676. WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT (26) , Unlawfully obtaining, by means of false pretences, from Henry Wright twenty sacks of grain; from Arthur Newton Forbes Gordon a mare; from Henry Price a violin, and from William Harris a metal furnace, with intent to defraud.

MR. METCALFE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. GOODMAN the


HENRY PRICE . I am a bricklayer, living at 32, Piper Street, Gloucester—I advertised in the Gloucester Journal the sale of a violin in June last, of the value of 25l.—I afterwards received this letter, dated 1st July, purporting to come from Mr. William Cartwright, 25, Cock Lane, Smithfield—I wrote this answer, and received this letter, dated 3rd July, agreeing to give 25l. I sent the violin to Paddington, and wrote a letter dated 6th. July—I received this answer on the 9th—I have not been paid for my violin, and have not seen it since—the letters took me off my guard, and I thought he was a respectable man—I believed he was a salesman and contractor, carrying on business at Cock Lane, according to the printed heading—I wrote this letter on 10th July.

Cross-examined. I had not seen the prisoner at all—I received a letter from somebody, and wrote in reply.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective). I found these letters signed Henry Price, which have been produced, at 22, Naylor Street, Caledonian Road, where the prisoner was living.

Cross-examined. I have watched him from there early in the morning, and back in the evening.

JOSEPH BRASSEY . I am a railway carman—I saw the prisoner write this signature, "Haxell, "on this voucher.

Cross-examined. I never saw him before I delivered the copper, which was on 30th July—I have only seen him since at Guildhall; that was seven or eight days afterwards—I have had hundreds of signatures since then—I am sure he is the man who signed the receipt in the name of Haxell—he was dressed the same as he is now—he signed it in the front room of 19, St. John's Lane, between 1 and 2 in the day—I never saw him write any other word but that.

CHARLES UNDERWOOD (City Detective Officer). On 2nd August I was with Wright—I took the prisoner under a warrant—I saw him leave 19, St. John's Lane, and followed him to the post office in St. John Street Road—he had twenty-three letters in his hand, and as he was about to post them I apprehended him—I told him I should apprehend him on a warrant in the name of William Cartwright, and he would be charged with obtaining a violin from a man named Price, at Gloucester, of the value of 25l.—he said he was not the man—I took him to the station, and searched him—I found a pocket-book containing several papers and railway bills relative to other charges, a bill in the name of William Cartwright, and a letter addressed William Cartwright—the letters have all been opened, and are answers to advertisements in country newspapers—they are written in the name of Haxell—the prisoner gave the name of William Cartwright—I found this agreement relating to 19, St. John's Lane, at that place—it. is in the name of Cartwright—I also found a number of letters addressed to 25, Cook Lane and Naylor Street, where the prisoner was living in the name of Beck—I went to 22, Naylor Street, and found a quantity of letters and bill-heads in the name of Cartwright, and some in the Dame of Haxell—the documents are all in court.

Cross-examined. I don't know that there is a Mr. Haxell, nor that he has a foreman named Beck—he said that the letters were given to him by a man, and he did not say who he was—bill-heads like these were found both at 19, St. John's Lane and 22, Naylor Street—it is a business bill-head of William Cartwright, of 25, Cock Lane—he had removed from Cock Lane—I did not find any of them there—I found at St. John's Lane twenty sacks of grains, which had been delivered at Cook Lane—I have been to 25, Cook Lane several times, but never found any one there.

JOHN WOODMAN . I am a porter at 25, Cook Lane—I live in the back parlour—I have lived there between two and three years—no business has been carried on at that place within the last six months—there was a plate at the side of the door, with "Cartwright, salesman" on it—I have seen an old man there, and he received the letters.

Cross-examined. I have not seen any of those bill-heads before—they are in the same name that was up.

Re-examined. Since the plate has been up, no business has been carried on. HENRY LARDNER. I live at 24, Hosier Lane—I am agent for the landlord of 25, Cock Lane—I let a portion of that house some time ago to a person named Cartwright—it was the early part of January, this year, as near as my memory serves me—I believe the prisoner is the man, but I should not like to swear that—a plate of iron was put at the side of the door, with "Cartwright, salesman" on it—the rent was 4s. a week.

Cross-examined. These bill-heads are in the same name—I can't say the prisoner was the man positively.

ARTHUR NEWTON FORBES GORDON . I am an officer in the 79th Highlanders, now stationed in the Isle of Wight—I inserted an advertisement last June in the Isle of Wight Observer and Hampshire Independent, as I wished to sell a bay mare I had, and any reply that was made was to be addressed to the adjutant of the regiment—a letter was received by the adjutant, which he gave to me—I wrote this letter in answer—I afterwards received this letter, signed William Cartwright—I sent this letter, saying that I did not wish to sell the mare unless Mr. Cartwright, or some friend of his, had seen and approved of her, and I did not chose to have her sent back on my hand—I got this answer, and then I sent the mare by the railway—the clothing that I sent with her was returned, but I have not seen her since, nor have I had the money—I parted with the mare, believing that I was sending her to a salesman and contractor in Smithfield.

Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner till I saw him at the Police Court—I don't know his writing—the letters that I sent I addressed to Mr. William Cartwright, 25, Cock Lane.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (re-called). There are five letters of Major Gordon's, which were found at 22, Naylor Street, the prisoner's private address.

CHARLES WILLIAM LACKELL . I occupy the house, 22, Naylor Street—on 10th June the prisoner came to live in two of the rooms, in the name of Beck—I received one letter from the postman for him, which I gave to his wife.

Cross-examined. I am the landlord of the house—I saw the prisoner very often after he came to live there—another man lived there with him; that was not Beck—I don't know what his name was, I only heard the name "William"—they went away in the morning and came back in the evening, like business men.

CHARLES UNDERWOOD (re-called). I produce a railway ticket for a horse, which I found in the prisoner's pocket-book—it is dated 2nd July, in the name of Cartwright, for a horse sent from Portsmouth.

GEORGE FRANCIS . I am an estate agent, at Eaton Chambers, Buckingham Palace Road—on 12th July the prisoner came and signed an agreement to take a house at No. 19, St. John's Lane—this is the agreement—he signed it in the name of William Cartwright—he gave two references before the preliminary agreement was signed; one was to a man named Beck, of Naylor Street—I wrote to that address, and got an answer by return of post—this is my letter to Beck.

Cross-examined. I only saw the prisoner at my office on 12th Jury—I have no doubt that he was the man who signed the preliminary agreement.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (re-called). This letter to Beck was found at 22, Naylor Street.

HENRY WRIGHT . I live at Maidstone—in June last I advertised in the Maidstone papers that I had some grains to sell; I received a letter on the 22nd from William Cartwright, 25, Cock Lane, to send a ton of grains, and direct them to the South-Eastern Railway, Bricklayers' Arms Station, and that he would send a post office order—in consequence of that letter I sent a ton of grains, and on 27th June I received another letter: "I received the grains safe, my cattle like them, and they give satisfaction; the bags will be empty at the end of the week. You can send half a ton more, and likewise half a ton of linseed cake"—I did not send any more grains—I made inquiries upon the Corn Market, and I did not hear any good—I

wrote to the address again, and asked for a reference—we had a letter, referring to Samuel Beck, 22, Naylor Street; that was on 29th June; the letter is signed William Cartwright—I came up to London on 1st July, and I went to 25, Cock Lane; there was an old man in the front room, and I found the grains there—I asked for Mr. Cartwright, and he said he was not within—I said, "Where does he keep his horses and cattle, and so on?"—he said he thought he was over in the Borough—I could find no such person there—there was no business at Cock Lane, except the old man and the grains—I have not been paid for the grains.

Cross-examined. The detective got possession of the grains, and I got part of them back—I went to London about a week or ten days after the grains were sent, just after I got the letter of reference—I knocked at the door and the old man opened it—I asked for Mr. Cartwright, and he said he was not in.

CHARLES UNDERWOOD (re-called). I produce the invoice of these grains, which I found in the pocket-book which I found on the prisoner—I also found the grains that were delivered at 25, Cook Lane, at 19, St. John's Lane—they were taken to the police-station.

WILLIAM HENRY WRIGHT . I am the son of Mr. Henry Wright—I live at 1, Lucas Place, Commercial Road, and am agent for ray father—I saw be grains at 19, St. John's Lane, in July—I identified them as belonging to my father—they were in our sacks.

CHARLES LUCAS . I am a carman in the employ of the South-Eastern Railway—on 27th June I delivered twenty sacks of grains at 25, Cock Lane, addressed to William Cartwright—I received the carriage-money—a middleaged man received them—it was not the prisoner—the man signed the way-bill—I have not got that here.

Cross-examined. I produced it at Guildhall every time I was up there—don t know why it is not here—it was signed "Edge."

WILLIAM HARRIS . I am a farmer at West Hay Farm, Dorset—I had a copper furnace to dispose of, and in July last I advertised in the Dorset paper to that effect—I received this letter signed "Haxell, "and dated 18th July—on 29th July I took the furnace to Axminster, and forwarded it to the address given in the letter "A. Haxell, merchant, 19, St. John's Lane"—the value of the furnace was 32l. 10s.; it was 440 pounds weight—I have not received any part of the value, nor have I seen the furnace again—I sent it, believing it was a genuine affair.

Cross-examined. I don't know the prisoner at all.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (re-called). I produce an invoice which I found at 22, Naylor Street, for a large copper, 448 pounds, amounting to 33l. 12s.; it is on a bill-head of the name of Kibbey, who is agent for Mr. Harris.

JOSEPH BRASSEY (re-called). I delivered a furnace into a small cart which was standing at 19, St. John's Lane—I received the carriage for it, and the prisoner signed my way bill in my presence.

GUILTY .*— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-677
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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677. EDWIN DONE (48), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury in an affidavit made before a Commissioner.

MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. METCALFE the Defence.


FOURTH COURT, Wednesday, September 26th, 1872.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-678
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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678. WILLIAM GILL (36) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 9l., with intent to defraud.

MR. HARMSWORTH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.

PHILIP LUCAS KINGSBURY . I am a draper, carrying on business in the Fulham Road—on the 1st of July, 1870, the prisoner came to my shop to look at some black silks—I showed him some, and he stated that he wanted two, one for his wife, and one for his sister—I sold him 34 yards of silk, value 9l.—he gave me his name, James Scott, Clyde House, Clyde Street, and told me if I went down at 7.30 that evening he would pay me—I tool the silk myself to the house—a man opened the door—the prisoner was coming down the stairs—he showed me into a little room, went to his secretaire, opened a drawer, took out a cheque-book, and asked me how? would have it, crossed, or an open cheque—I told him I would have a crossed cheque—I left the silk, took the cheque, and went out—I then made inquiries, and came back about ten minutes afterwards to the house—the prisoner was not there—I then went to the manager of my bank (the Imperial), and asked him to go with me the next morning to present this cheque—we went to the London General Bank, and took the cheque—this is it (produced)—I found there was no account at the bank, and never had been—the manager marked the cheque "No account."

CHARLES DAWSON PHILPOT . I am the manager of the Imperial Bank—Mr. Kingsbury brought this cheque to me in July, 1870, and I accompanied him to the London General Bank—we saw the manager, and he returned this cheque, marked "No account"—the regular stamp is on it.

JOHN HENRY FLESHER . I reside in Derby now—in July, 1870, I was manager of the London General Bank—I remember Mr. Kingsbury, accompanied by the last witness, coming to me with this cheque—I searched the books, made inquiries, and we had no customer at that time of the name of James Scott—I never saw the prisoner till I saw him at the Police Court—I don't know his handwriting—I marked the cheque "No account."

Cross-examined. I looked in the ledger in which accounts are always entered—I don't know that I looked in the signature book—I have not got the bank books here; I have nothing to do with the bank now; it is in liquidation—the books were not in any confusion at that time—I never heard that accounts were opened with persons and yet there was no record on the books—I succeeded Mr. Rogers as manager; I had been manager about six months, I think, when this transaction took place—I was eighteen months in the bank before I was manager—there was no confusion in the accounts, the business had been very carelessly transacted—money had been lent to persons which had not been paid—the books represented the business done by the bank; they were straightforward enough—I am speaking now from recollection that Mr. Scott had no account; as manager, I did not know him to have any account—I only referred to the ledger to find whether he had or not; the ledger is not here—I made the reference in July, 1870, two years ago—what I state now is my recollection from my search on that occasion—I have nothing to do with the books now.

Re-examined. I was in the bank about eighteen months, and during that

time there had not been such a customer as James Scott, or I should have known it, and I never heard of it during the six months I was manager—I must have heard of it if there had been such a thing—we can tell to whom the cheque-books are issued—I searched, and this cheque-book was issued to Samuel Morris in 1866, and his account was closed a long time before 1867, I should think.

NATHANIEL DRUSCOVITCH . I am chief inspector of the Detective Department, Scotland Yard—in July, 1870, a warrant was placed in my hands for the prisoner's apprehension—I was unable to execute it until 19th August last—upon that day I saw him come out of a house in Boundary Road, St. John's Wood—I knew the prisoner personally; his proper name is William Gratton, but he always traded under the name of William Gill—I asked him what name he chose to give, and he said William Gill—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension for forging a cheque to Mr. Kingsbury—he said "Can't I see Mr. Kingsbury before going to the station?"—I said "No"—I took him to the station, and he there gave the name of William Gill.

Cross-examined. I knew him to trade under the name of Gill two or three years before this—I was not the whole two years looking for him.

GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-679
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Corporal > whipping; Imprisonment

Related Material

679. GEORGE COHEN (38), and BRIDGET MARTIN (21) , Robbery with violence on George Wright, and stealing a watch and chain, and 3l., his property.

MR. HARRY GIFFARD conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE WRIGHT . I am a master mariner, and live at Park Place, Hackney—about 12 o'clock on Thursday night, 28th August, I was in Aldgate; the female prisoner stopped me by Aldgate Church, and asked me to stand something; immediately afterwards some one came behind me, and struck me at the back of the head—I fell down, and I recognised this man—after I had been down a minute or two, there was another fellow came on the road, and kicked me in the mouth—I held this man for some time, and he worked his way out of his coat—I called "Police!" and said "I have lost my watch"—the woman said "Let go my husband"—the men got away afterwards, but the woman did not; a witness came to my assistance—I saw Cohen next morning about 10 o'clock; he was brought into the Aldgate Police-station, and I recognised him again—I am still suffering very much in my head, and have been deaf ever since—my knee-cap was broken from the fall, and my mouth cut, and I have another mark on my shoulder—I lost a valuable watch and chain, and about 3l. in money.

Cohen. Q. What part of the body did you seize me by? Witness. I caught him by the shoulders, and he got his coat out this way—I swear that he is one of the men.

MICHAEL JOSEPH . I am a general dealer, in Gravel Lane—about 12 o'clock on the night of 28th August I was in Aldgate—I was leaning on a post, smoking a cigar—hearing some scuffling behind me, I turned round and saw two men and a woman on a man—I can't recognise their faces because they were turned towards the rails of the church—I heard the man call out "Stop thief, help, they have got my watch!"—I saw one dressed in black run away—I ran after him; he was too fast for me, and I turned back—when they ran away the prosecutor was staggering, and he turned round to me and looked me full in the face—I ran after the man I expected had the watch and chain.

WILLIAM HALLETT (City Policeman 856). I was in Gravel Lane, a little

before 12 o'clock—Martin was pointed out to me, and I took her into custody—some one told me that a man had been knocked down and robbed—I left her in charge of another officer for a few minutes—I knew Cohen, and at that time the female had Cohen's coat on her arm—this is the coat—I found I could not catch Cohen—he went across the ruins through Storey Lane—I came back and took Martin—two hours after Cohen was apprehended in Whitechapel by another officer—I asked Martin how she came by the coat, and she said that she had picked it up.

WILLIAM NAGLE (Policeman H 109). About 10.30 on the night of 28th August I saw the prisoners in the neighbourhood of Houndsditch—subsequently, from information I received from Hallett, I took Cohen into custody—he said he was not the man—on the way to the station he said he was there in the street, but he was not the man—I found 1s. 4 1/2 d. on him Cohen in his defence stated that he saw the prosecutor with a female, and that sometime afterwards he came up and caught hold of him, and a young woman there said "That is not the man who robbed you, it was two young men who ran away."

GEORGE WRIGHT (re-called). That is not so—the Black Horse was the last public-house I was in—I have no doubt the woman spoke to me—I had had a little extra, more than I have had to-day, but I knew what I was about—I walked to Hackney afterwards—they stole my money and I could not pay for a cab.

Cohen. I never saw this woman in all my lifetime—I have had misfortunes, but since then I have tried to get an honest living—I have told the policeman who the men were, and where they lived.

WILLIAM HALLETT (re-called). He gave the information where one of the men lives, but he has not been home—he is hanging about somewhere in Mint Street, Borough.

Martin's Defence. I saw the gentleman throw the coat down, and picked it up. I came to see what was the matter.

GUILTY They also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted; Cohen in January, 1865, and Martin in April, 1872.

COHEN **— Ten Years' Penal Servitude and Thirty Lashes. MARTIN— Eighteen Month' Imprisonment

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-680
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

680. ALFRED ROBERTS (21), and GEORGE SMITH (21) , "Robbery with violence on George Bennett, and stealing 1l. 17s. 8d., his moneys. MR. SAFFORD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. A. B. KELLY the Defence.

GEORGE BENNETT . I am a carman, residing at 57, Manchester Street, Aldgate—on 15th June I left Milton Street, about 10.10—I was on my box—I got to the Minories about 10.45, or from that to 11 o'clock—I met the prisoners in Milton Street, at Mr. Hudson's Yard, a few minutes past 10 o'clock, and when I left the yard they were with me and another man—I gave them a lift—after we left Milton Street we went to a public-house, and I paid for a pot of beer—I went on in the van with the two prisoners, and Howes on the box—at the Minories they went in and had something to drink—I had a drink of beer—they got into the van, and Howes drove away again—I don't know whether he calls himself Roberts now, but he is know to us by the name of Creeping Jesus—his name is Farringdon—I don t know whether he gives his name Roberts, and Smith goes down with me in the van, and shoves his knee in my neck—the other one fell kicking me in the face and rifled my pockets and took my money—they rose off the tail

board of the van just as we got to Goodman's Yard—Howes still kept driving on and never stopped till he got inside the gates—I then got off and went round to the public-houses to see if I could see anything of them round the Minories, round Sparrow Corner and Goodman's Yard—perhaps I was gone a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—I had lost 1l. 17s. 8d., a sovereign, half-sovereign, 7s. 6d., and two penny pieces—I saw them last when I put them in my pocket in Milton Street—then I took a shilling out for the beer, and put 8d. back with the rest—when I got to the stable-yard I went home—I saw Howes there then—I was smothered with blood about the face—I gave information to the police on Monday morning—I was hurt severely and have not got over the effects yet—my eye was hurt—I stopped at home a week, and went about with the policemen—the left eye was closed up for two days, and I was forced to pull my right eye open to see out of it—my neck was hurt, and I can't hear as well with my right ear as I did before by a great deal.

Cross-examined. I was only at one public-house; we stopped at three—we stopped at the Golden Lion and had a pot—I paid for one and I had a share of it—I don't know what the others had after I came out—they got into the van, and we drove to another public-house—they asked me to have some beer there—I refused to have any—we pulled up at one in London Wall, but I did not get out of the van—I did not have anything there—we pulled up at the Coach and Horses in the Minories—they brought out some gin first, which I refused, and one of them brought out some beer and I had a drink out of the pot—we did not stop at any other till we got to the yard—I was not drunk—after I had been knocked down and robbed I went and searched in some public-houses—I should, say that was about five minutes after I had been knocked down—Howes drove all the way—I never told him—I had no chance of shouting out when I was knocked down, his knee was on my neck—I had not the least chance of making any noise—Howes was sitting on the box not more than two yards off, and he kept on driving—all this side of my face was covered with blood—when Howes pulled the van up I had a chance of telling him—I did not tell him—I went and searched then—I saw Howes in the yard when I came back—he did ask me where I had been—if he did I did not tell him—I say I was sober, and that Howes did not ask me where I had been; I did not say anything to him when I camp back—I never told him that the two fellows who had been riding in the van had robbed me—the van was mine—Howes was in the same employment—I was stupefied when I got out of the van—I went into several public houses—I was not too stupid to do that.

Re-examined. I was knocked senseless in the van—any one would say I was drunk when they see me get out of the van—I was stupid—I had a reason for not telling Howes—I was not certain whether it was a planned job between the three: him to drive, and those two to do the trick—if you are not satisfied with that answer, I have no other to make.

COURT. Q. Do you still think Howes was in the plan? A. Yes; that is my firm opinion—I am confident he had no hand in it, because he was driving; but still it is my opinion, and nobody can't alter it.

JOHN HOWES . I am in the service of Messrs. Wainwright, sugar refiners, of Whitechapel—I met Bennett in Fore Street, one Saturday night, in June, just by Milton Street—there was me and Bennett and the two prisoners, and two other stragglers—I did not know who they were—we went into a public-house

in Fore Street—we had three pots of beer—Bennett had some of it—he said "We must see about getting off home"—I said "I am going home, I will have a ride down with you"—the prisoners said they were going that road, and they had a ride as well—I drove—Bennett was sitting on a basket on the near side of the van—the prisoners were standing up each side of the rail—when we got to London Wall we had another pot of beer—it is a house the carmen generally stop at—I paid for that—we all had some of it—we took some out to Bennett—we came out and drove to the Minories—we had a half-pint of gin there—Bennett was sitting on the basket in the van—I came out and drove on again—I said "Bennett, I am going home now"—he said "You may as well come down to the stable and help me put the horse away"—we all had some of the gin—the prisoners were in the van—we drove down the Minories, round Sparrow Corner, and that way—when I got to the yard, I looked round, and could not see the prisoners in the van—I did not hear anything on the way, and Bennett never called out to me—we passed through the arch of the Midland Goods Station—there is a lamp over the booking-office, and there was no traffic about then, it was between 11 and 12 o'clock at night—Bennett got out of the van as I stopped at the yard, and went away—he came back about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards, and said to me "You know all about this affair"—I asked him what he meant—he said "Oh, you know, "and then the foreman would not let him come in the yard—he had a cut on his eye—he said "You know what that is"—we went over to a public-house at the comer of the yard and had a pot of beer there—he said then "You know all about it"—I know nothing about it—he did not holloa to me.

Cross-examined. I did not want to go with these men—I said "I should go home"—but Bennett said "Come and help me put up the horse"—I was three-parts drunk—we stopped at three public-houses on the road down—we had three pots of ale in; the first in Fore Street, one pot in the second, and gin in the third—Bennett partook of drink at most of the places—I took him the beer out myself in Fore Street—I saw some gin brought out to him, which he drank—I was alongside the horse then—when Bennett came back to the yard, he was bleeding down the side of his face.

COURT. Q. Did you see that when you got out of the van? A. I can't say; I did not have time to look at him then—I stopped outside the yard, because the gates were shut, and he got out directly and game back ten minutes afterwards—the foreman helped me to put the horse up, and I believe after we had had the last pot of beer he took me home—Bennett had been to get his wages that evening, and I had got mine—I was half drunk when I took my wages, because I had been in the country that day, and the foreman could not give my wages at first—I should say that Bennett was three-parts drunk.

JOHN HAWKS (City Policeman 848). On Monday, 17th July last, I saw the prosecutor in Seething Lane Police-station—he was very much bruised and disfigured on the left side of his face—his neck was partly on one side as if he had got a stiff neck—he made his complaint and I was instructed to take the matter in hand—from what he said I went in search of the prisoners and found they had left the place where they usually worked—I ascertained that they were in custody for another offence in Coldbath Fields—I went there with prosecutor on 16th July, and he picked them out from another one—when they were freed I went and took them into custody, and told them they would be charged with robbing and assaulting

George Bennett on 15th June last in the Minories—Roberts said he knew nothing of it, and Smith said he was innocent—on the way to the police-station Smith said "Why were not others brought in as well as us?"—I said "What do you mean by that?"—he said "There were others in the van besides us, and Jack Howes was driving, why don't you bring him in?"


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-681
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

681. ESTHER POLLICOTE (19) , Unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child.

MR. W. SLEIGH for the Defence.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-682
VerdictNot Guilty > directed; Not Guilty > unknown

Related Material

682. JOHN STOREY (59), and HENRY ALFRED MOSELEY (35) , Stealing 137 sheets of paper and twelve pieces of wood, the property of Frederick Burbidge and another, the masters of Storey.

MR. METCALFE conducted the Protection; and MR. CURRIE defended Storey.

GEORGE COLDRY (City Policeman 130). About 5.30 on the morning of 27th August I was on duty in Coleman Street—I saw Moseley in White Horse Yard, carrying two bundles of wood—I followed him into Fore Street—I stopped him and asked him where he had brought the wood from—he said "Out of that yard you saw me come out of"—I said "How did you get it from there, then?"—he said "The watchman gave it to me"—I said "Where are you going to take it to?"—he said "Into Whitecross Street"—I asked him where he lived, he said he lived up somewhere near Euston Road—I said "This won't satisfy me, you will have to go back with me and see the watchman"—I went back there, and as I was going to ring the bell for the watchman he appeared at the door—I said "This man," pointing to Moseley, "says that you gave him these two bundles of wood, is that so?"—Storey said "Yes, "and picked up one of the bundles—I said "Are you sure you gave him this wood?" and he said "Yes"—I said "There is a paper parcel in between these staves, what does that contain?"—he said "It is paper, but it is waste"—I said "Did you give him that?"—he said "Yes"—I undid the bundle of wood and took out this parcel—I undid the parcel and found it was clean white paper—I said "This is not waste"—he said "Oh, I burn plenty of this in the furnace"—I said to Moseley "I shall have to make some inquiries in reference to this paper, you will have to go to the station with me"—Storey said "Take no notice of it; I have been a policeman, "which he has—ho made his way to the door up the steps—I heard someone else coming down the yard, which I believed to be a constable—I followed Storey up the steps—he got inside of the door first, pushed the door on me, and tried to keep me out of the warehouse—I forced the door, and he ran to another door leading into the warehouse—I caught hold of him, and brought him forcibly back to the outer door—I told him that I should take him to the station likewise—at that time my inspector appeared and told him to go quietly—there were 137 of these sheets—Moseley told me in Fore Street that he had slept in the premises all night—I told Storey that, and he said "Yes, I let him sleep here because it rained"—I came out myself at 10.30, and there was no rain the whole of the time I was out—I was out till the morning—the door where Storey appeared was the door of Messrs. Burbidge's premises—Storey gave me his address, 8, Little Coram Street—I was not able to find him.

Cross-examined. Storey did not deny that he had given the things to the man—he said it was waste—that referred to the paper parcel and not to the wood—I said "There is a paper parcel in the wood; do you know anything about that?" and he said "Yes, it is waste-paper"—he said he had given it to him—he said "Don't take any notice of it; I have been a policeman"—he might have said in the warehouse "Don't take hold of me like that"—it was outside that he said he had been a policeman.

Moseley. I went in to dry my coat by the furnace—I wanted a little bit of wood to light my own fire, and this was packed up in it—I did not notice it; it was all done in a hurry.

EDWIN HARDING (City Inspector). On Monday morning 26th, I went to Coleman Street—I passed this yard and saw Moseley in the custody of a constable—I went up the yard and saw a bundle of wood lying by the side of Moseley, and I went further on and saw this bundle of paper on the steps leading to the warehouse door—I went to the warehouse and saw the officer with Storey—he seemed to be very much excited indeed, and said "What is all this about?" and Storey said "I can assure you Mr. Harding I knew prisoner very well that I gave the paper and the wood to Moseley. I allowed him to stop on the floor all night because it was a wet night, and it is only waste-paper that we burn in the furnace, and I can assure you we burn lots of it; it is no use to us at all"—I advised him to go quietly to the station, which he did—I said to Moseley "How came you in possession of the wood?"—he said "Oh, I brought the watchman his supper, and it being a wet night he asked me to sleep on the floor of the warehouse"—I said "It had not been a wet night"—I happened to be on duty all that night; there was a little rain in the evening—I did not say that to him, but I knew it was not a wet night; it had rained a little between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening.

GEORGE WILLIAM REED (City Policeman 173). Storey was given into my custody the same morning he was taken, and on the way to the Police Court he made a desperate run as quick as he could—I had a good many things in my hand—he passed through the vehicles as much as he could—I threw down ray load and overtook him.

GEORGE YARDLEY . I am a clerk in the employment of Messrs. Burbidge & Co.—Storey has been in their service about ten months as night watchman—it was his duty to watch the premises from 6 o'clock in the evening till 8 o'clock in the morning—the firm have paper like this in large quantities and there are casks on the premises with staves like this—the watchman is not allowed to give away paper, nor would he burn paper like that—I know nothing of his giving this away—it is used for packing.

COURT. Q. What do you do with the old staves? A. We have a cooper on the premises—they are very rarely burnt at all; they are made up again—bad staves are rejected and used for the furnace—there are one or two here not very good, but the other staves would be made up again into casks.

Witnesses for Storey.

---- MITCHELL. I was an inspector but have now left the force—I have known the prisoner since 1841—he was a plain-clothes constable—a man named Hackett committed a burglary, and I had information he was going over London Bridge with his brother John—I put Storey on the bridge—he saw the brother coming in a cart, and he ran behind the cart and saw Hackett at the bottom of the cart—he tried to take him, and he

hit him over the head with a life-preserver which laid him up and rendered him incapable of active duty—he was afterwards pensioned off at 1l. a-week, rather more than he was entitled to, and he was half-silly after that—I have seen him since, and he has always appeared half-silly—during the time I was connected with him I considered him one of the best officers that we had; he was put on all difficult cases, but after he recovered from the effects of that blow, he never was worth a straw.

Cross-examined. He recovered, as far as his health went, but he was not fit for duty, and he was pensioned off—I think he went into business with some man as a trunk-maker, and there he lost what money he had—after that, I heard say, he was deputy relieving officer at St. Andrew's, Holborn—I don't know what his duties were—I don't think he kept accounts—he continued that four or five or six years—I met him occasionally in the street, and thought he seemed to be always wandering—I am not in a position to say that he was unfit for a watchman.

DR. WILLIAM CUSTALL MAY .—I remember Storey being brought to my surgery—I should imagine it was somewhere about 1854 or 1855—he had received a severe injury to the head, causing concussion of the brain—I attended him at that time, but he was afterwards under the charge of the surgeon of police—from the wound that I saw, I should say that it was very possible that he might be excitable and irritable after that, as a consequence of the injury to the brain—of course only seeing him that once, I can't speak with any degree of certainty.

Moseley's Defence. I did not intend to do wrong; I took the watchman his supper; I was wet through, and laid down by the fire.

The COURT considered there was no case against



23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-683
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

Related Material

683. JOHN STOREY was again indicted for stealing a quantity of pepper and other goods of Frederick Burbidge and another, his masters.

MR. METCALFE offered no evidence. NOT GUILTY .

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-684
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

684. JOHN HEINRICH (27) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch, the property of Emma Pedley, in her dwelling-house, and also to obtaining 1l. 2s. 6d. and other moneys by means of false pretences.

Five Years' Penal Servitude

OLD COURT, Thursday, September 26th, 1872.

Before Mr. Justice Lush.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-685
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

685. CHARLES BAKER (21), was indicted for a rape on Susannah Alma Coghill.

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

GUILTY Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-686
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

686. WILLIAM RADLEY (34) , Feloniously wounding Mary Ann Radley, with intent to murder. Second Count—With intent to do grievous bodily harm.

MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and. MR. BESLEY the Defence.

MARY ANN RADLEY . I am the prisoner's wife—I lived at 5, Adam and Eve Place, St. Pancras Road—on the night of 26th August, about 8 o'clock, I came home with my mother—the prisoner came in about a minute after—he said to my mother "What do you do here?" (he had said that he

would not allow her there)—she said "I am going to stop to protect my child, as I hear you were going to cut her throat again this morning"—he said "You don't stay here, none of the b—crew of you, "and he turned us all out into the court, my mother and me, and the three children, his daughter and my two sons—I quarrelled with him—I may have said I was not going to leave my home—he struck me slightly in the mouth, in the court outside the door—I said "Let me go in and get my shawl"—I went into the house, and went towards the mantelshelf to get some lucifers to get a light—my back was towards the door, and in an instant he came behind me—he never spoke a word, but he flung his left arm around my head, and with the right tore at my throat; I did not know it was cut till the next morning—I put my hand to my throat and found the blood pouring out—I gave one long scream and rushed to the door, and fell either on the mat, or against some one, insensible—I said to my next neighbour, Fanny Atkins, "Fanny, he has done it"—I did not know my throat was cut; I knew it was torn with something—I knew I was injured, but I did not know it was cut till I was told next morning in the hospital—I came to when I was on the stretcher, and my husband was standing by the side of me outside my door, and I charged him with doing it, and he made no reply—he took up a knife, and would have cut my throat at breakfast-time that morning, but I flew out to a neighbour's, and he dropped the knife behind him, and said "You b—cow, you are not worth being hung for; I will do it quieter than that"—my mother came in a few minutes after, and I told her of it, and that was the reason she made the observation she did at night—this (produced) is my husband's razor—I have no wish to hurt him, but he has assaulted me so many times I want protection—there is no truth whatever in the suggestion that I did the injury to my throat myself.

Cross-examined. I have been married to the prisoner three years—I was a widow; his daughter is thirteen years of age—I think she was examined at the Police Court; I was very ill, I forget—my eldest son was examined; only one son saw anything—one is nine and the other thirteen years—it was a few minutes after 9 o'clock when I came in with my mother—my husband has been six years in the employment of Messrs. Lea—Mr. Smart, one of the partners, is here to-day—he was bail for him when I locked him, up before, two years ago, when he cut my head to pieces pretty well with a chair—I never attempted to commit suicide—I swear that; six years ago I was taken to the workhouse by a policeman, who found me wandering fifty yards from the water; it was four days after a bad confinement, and I was very low, and could not tell where I lived—the prisoner had always been very kind to my mother before this, and my father too—this was the first time he complained of my mother's presence—he did not complain that she was addicted to drinking—he has given her drink and me too, and then knocked me about for having it—he has not complained that she induced me to drink, and that he could keep nothing in the house from the pawn shop—I know the Duke of York public-house, at the corner of Felix Street, Somers Town—I did not six weeks ago, in the presence of Charles Harden, there take a penknife from my pocket, cut my linger, and smear the blood over my face and on the door, and say I would have my revenge of my husband, and say that he had done it—it is false—Harden did not say to me "Oh, you wicked woman!"—my husband's friends did not get him out of the window when I went to charge him—about six or seven months ago one

Saturday night, I went there after my husband for my weekly money; and because he should not give me any, his mates got him out of the taproom window—about a month before this happened, I was not with my husband in the taproom of the Duke of York, when he gave me 30s.—he never gave me that sum since we have been married—I did not seize him by the shirt front, and demand 6s. more from him, and shake him violently; nor did the landlord turn me out; it is entirely false—he has not used that house for the last five months—we were turned out of the Adam and Eve because he was quarrelling and I took his part—that was about six or eight weeks previous to this, the day of Doggett's Coat and Badge; we were quarrelling, and were both turned out—I have mentioned before to-day what occurred At breakfast time—I mentioned it at the Police Court; not the whole of it—I said he had attempted my life before, and he had been charged before at that Court for attempting my life—no one was present at breakfast when he took up the knife—he was sober, I think, or nearly so—it was about 8 o'clock—at 9 o'clock, when my mother said she was going to stop to protect me, there was my husband and the three children present—the quarrelling did not last three minutes; it did not take ten minutes or a quarter of an hour altogether, the turning us out, hitting me in the mouth, my going in, and him doing it—I did not say to Fanny Atkins "Fanny, I have done it"—I said "He has done it"—I did not see the prisoner smoking a pipe:—I have not read over my deposition before coming here, or had it read to me—my husband has sent me to pawn things when he has spent his money—he has complained of my pawning things, not for drink—he has not done so in the presence of the children—I know David Dewling; he is my husband's mate—I never used a penknife to myself in his presence.

WILLIAM RADLEY . I am thirteen years old—the prisoner is my stepfather—I was at home on the night of 26th August, about 8 or 9 o'clock—my father, mother, and brother were there—while I was in the room I heard no quarrel between my father and mother—he told me to go out, and I went out—after I was out I heard my mother scream—I went back into the room, and saw my mother lying on the floor against the outer door—she was senseless—her throat was bleeding—my father was in the room, standing by the side of the table—he was not doing anything—he was about 1 1/2 yard from her, looking at her—I don't know where my brother had gone to; he was not there—before this, when my father sent me out, my grandmother was in the room—my father said to her "You had better go out, and all the b—crew of you, "and we went out—my mother and father went out, too—when I found my mother on the floor, I said to her "What is the matter?"—she did not answer—I then went outside and stood by the fence—I saw my father strike mother in the mouth after we went out—she was then sitting on the steps—I did not hear any quarrel between them—I did not hear her say anything before he struck her.

Cross-examined. My father's name was Dawson—that was my mother's name before she married the prisoner—I work at Robson's, the printer's, in St. Pancras Road—I came home at 7 in the evening—I went round to my grandmother, and she came back with me—she went out of the house with me, and went back with me—I never mentioned before to-day the expression "the b—crew"—I saw Fanny Atkins there; she was trying to lift my mother from the mat—Mrs. Harrop was also there—I did not hear either of them call out to my father "I cannot lift her; come and help, and let

her head rest against your knees"—that did not happen—I did not hear my father send for brandy for her.

ELLEN RADLEY . I am the prisoner's daughter—my mother is dead, and Mrs. Radley is my stepmother—I was at home about 9.30 on the evening of 26th August—father did not turn us out, but he told my grandmother to go home, he would not have her there—I was not in the room, I was outside the door—she was not in the room at all—I ran and got some matches, and when I came back Mrs. Harrop and Fanny were inside the room, and they called my father in to hold my mother's head between his knees—I don't know where my brothers were at the time my father told my grandmother to go home; my mother was inside the room, and father stood outside against the fence, with his hands behind him, smoking his pipe—the fence is close by the door—that was where I left him when I went for the matches, and when I came back, in about ten minutes, he stood there still, till Mrs. Harrop called him in—he said "I will do any thing; what shall I do?'—she said "Put your knees like that, and hold her head up, "and he did so—I went and looked, and I saw the hole in my mother's throat, and ran away—I went off to fetch a doctor—nobody told me to go; I went of my own accord, and came back with him.

Cross-examined. I only had to go to the next corner for the matches, but I did not hurry back—I judge that I was gone about ten minutes—father stood against the door when he told grandmother to go home—he did not go right in the house all the time I was there—grandmother never went into the house at all; she was against the window—mother was inside the house, but whereabouts I don't know—I did not see her come out—when father was outside smoking his pipe, there was no one in the house but mother—I have heard father complain to mother about grandmother coming there and pawning his things—I know things were pawned, I don't know who by—father has asked for his clothes, and mother said they were pawned—I never heard him complain of grandmother leading mother away drinking—I did not hear any scream, nor did I hear my mother say "Fanny, Fanny, I have done it!"—When I came back with the doctor, a policeman was there.

Re-examined. When I went away to fetch the matches, my mother was inside—I don't. Remember saying before the Magistrate that my father and mother were outside the door—she was outside the door till she went in—they had a few words outside the door—I have not spoken to my father since this, or with Mrs. Harrop and Mrs. Atkins—I did not see father strike my mother in the mouth.

FELIX STYLES (Policeman Y 388). About 9.45 on the night of 26th August, I was called to 5, Adam and Eve Place—I went into the sitting room, and there found Mrs. Radley on the floor, just inside the door—she was in a sitting position, with her head resting between the prisoner's knees—she appeared to be insensible—I saw blood running down her throat—I could not see the cut at the time—I asked Mrs. Harrop, who was there, if a doctor had been sent for—she said "No"—a lad who was there went for one—I did not see the girl there—Fanny Atkins was there—the prisoner said his mother-in-law and him were at variance about her coining there enticing his wife; that she had been there that evening, that they had had a quarrel, and he had sent her out—I went and fetched Dr. Griffiths, and when I returned with him another doctor was there—the woman had not been moved—I helped to move her to a chair, and just by the place where

she had been sitting I found this razor on the ground—it was partly open, and had blood upon it—when I first went in and saw the woman, I asked how it was done—the prisoner replied he did not know how it was done, but he thought it was done in a passion—Fanny Harrop said that she was passing the door at the time, and the prosecutrix put up her hands and said "Fanny, I have done it!"—That was said in the prisoner's presence—the woman was afterwards put on a stretcher, and while on it she said "I did not do it; my husband done it"—he was there at the time—he made no observation upon it—I took her to the hospital, and about 2 o'clock I returned and took the prisoner into custody—he was sitting on the doorstep—I told him he would be taken to the station and detained there till his son came, and then he would be charged with attempting to murder his wife—he said "All right, I will go with you"—at the station he was charged with cutting his wife's throat, and attempting to murder her—he said he did not do it.

Cross-examined. I saw the girl there when I came back with the doctor—the razor was found partly underneath the woman's dress, as she sat on the floor—Mrs. Atkins was there, and Fanny Harrop standing by—I did not notice blood on the hands of either the prosecutrix or the prisoner, I should say he was under the influence of liquor—there was great confusion and excitement at 10 o'clock.

FANNY HARROP . I live at 4, Adam and Eve Place, St. Pancras Road, next door to the prisoner—on the evening of 26th August, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was passing his house, and saw Mrs. Radley sitting down on a mat—she called "Fanny"—I went in, and she put up her two hands and said "Fanny, I have done it"—I said "Done what?"—She made no answer—I took hold of her hands, they were quite cold—I did not see any blood upon them—the prisoner was standing outside, opposite the door, against a wooden fence, smoking a short clay pipe—there was no one in the house but the woman; I went outside—I saw the two boys outside, against the fence; I did not see the girl—when I came out I heard the two boys say "Mother has cut her throat"—I said to the prisoner "Mr. Radley, is it true that your wife has cut her throat—he said "I don't know"—I ran in to my mother; she came out with me—I called to the prisoner to hold his wife's head between his legs, so as to prevent her from bleeding more; to keep her head down tight—some brandy was asked for, and the prisoner said "Go to the corner, and get any quantity; I will do anything for her"—my mother sent for a policeman and a doctor—the doctor came, and she was taken away on a stretcher, and she then said "I did not do it myself my husband done it"—I don't know whether he heard that.

Cross-examined. It was between the lights; rather dark—I am quite sure she said, "I have done it;" the prisoner came directly my mother called him.

MARY ANN RADLEY (re-examined). I know Emily Abbott—I did not say to her at 11 o'clock on this morning that I might be dead or in the hospital by the morning; nor did she say to me "I shall box your ears if you do anything of the kind"—what I did say was, "He has attempted to cut my throat this morning; don't be surprised if you hear I am dead, or in the hospital by the morning."

JOSEPH MITCHELL , M. R. C. S., 72, Charrington Street, St. Pancras. I was called to Adam and Eve Place about 10 o'clock on the night of 26th August—I found the prosecutrix lying on the floor, near the door, in front

of the door, or rather, I should say, just inside the house, in a line with the door; her head was supported by a female; she was insensible—I looked at her throat—I found four incised wounds on the left side, extending downwards towards the middle line of the throat—she was not bleeding much; she had fainted from loss of blood—I sewed up the wound, and she was removed to the hospital—the prisoner was there the greater part of the time; I can't say whether he was there when I went in—I was there about half-an-hour—"Mrs. Harrop and her mother were there—I did not hear the prisoner or anybody say anything about the wounds; I simply cautioned him to be quiet—he was making a noise part of the time, talking in a random way; I thought he was intoxicated—three of the wounds were superficial; the fourth, the lower one, was considerably deeper; they were such wounds as were capable of being inflicted upon her by another person; they might also be inflicted by herself; I can't say which, from the nature of the wounds. Cross-examined. I have said that the presumption was more in favour of self-infliction, provided the person be right-handed.

COURT. Q. Were you the first medical gentleman there? A. I was—I remember the policeman coming with another—the woman was then still lying on the floor—she was placed across two chairs, by my direction—I did not observe the razor.

ANDRBW IRWIN . I am house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital—the prosecutrix was brought there on the morning of the 27th August—she was pale and weak, and apparently suffering from great loss of blood—I examined her throat, and found four wounds, which had been sewn up—in my opinion only one of those had been dangerous—I could not say one way or the other as to their being self-inflicted—they were in such a position that they might have been self-inflicted, or another person might have inflicted them if it was done from behind—I heard the description which the woman gave of the way in which they were inflicted—they might have been inflicted in that way—she is still under my charge—she is yet weak.

Cross-examined. There is nothing inconsistent with their being self-inflicted.

HANNAH CHURCH . I live at 21, Ashby Street, and am the prosecutrix's mother—on the morning of 26th August she made a complaint to me, and in the evening I went with her to her house—I went into the house—my daughter was there, and the prisoner; not the boys, or the girl—the prisoner said, with an oath, that I had no business there; "Out you go, all the b——crew of you"—I said "I have business here; I have come here to protect my daughter, as I heard this morning that you held a knife before her throat, going to cut her throat"—that was what she told me—I did not stop but a very little while there—I bade my daughter "Good night," and said I should see her in the morning, and I went away—I left my daughter and him in the house—she said "Go home, mother; never mud"—I did not see him do anything to her.

MR. BESLEY called the following Witnesses for the Defence. CHARLES HARDEN. I was waterman at the Duke of York, Phoenix Street, Sowers Town—I know Mrs. Radley well—I remember her taking a pen-knife out of her pocket outside the Duke of York; she deliberately cut her finger, and besmeared her face all over with blood, and the door of the tap-room, and she said "I will have my revenge upon him"—Dewling was present at the time—I said "Oh! you wicked woman"—she tried to force her way into the taproom, and she was told that Radley had got out of the

window and gone away—this was about six weeks before this charge—one Saturday, a fortnight before this transaction, I saw Radley give her 30s. in the taproom, and treat her to what she liked to drink, and after sitting for about an hour, she got up and seized him by the throat, and tore all the front of his shirt out, and demanded 6s. more—he said "I have not got it to give you"—she nearly strangled him, and he never offered to touch a hair of her head—he went away, and she was turned out of the house by the manager.

Cross-examined. I can't fix the day when this cutting of the finger oocurred; it was about six weeks before this transaction—it was in the warm weather—I should think it was towards the after part of the day, about 5 o'clock, because he had a black face—he was in the habit of coming there with his mates—I have seen her there several times, and I have seen her turned out of the house several times—she has ill-used him.

DAVID DEWLING . I am a coal-porter, and work for Ricketts & Smith—the prisoner works for Lea & Co.—I was at the Duke of York, and saw the prosecutrix pull a knife out of her pocket, cut her finger, and smear the blood all over the door, and then over her face; and when she found she could not get at her husband, she went outside to fetch a policeman, and we opened the window and let him go away to another house to hide himself—he did not strike her, but when the policeman came she swore that he had done it.

Cross-examined. I did not give evidence before the Magistrate—they would not allow me in Court, because I had been in a little trouble there three or four years ago for fighting with my brother—I was discharged then—next time I got a month, for giving him a black eye—the prisoner is a Coal-porter—the prosecutrix was very drunk on this occasion—it was about six weeks ago—she was drunk all day long.

EMILY ABBOTT . I live at 26, Brill Row, Somer's Town—on the morning of 26th August, about 11 o'clock, Mrs. Radley came to my place—I asked her what was the matter, she looked so desponding—she said her husband had only given her 4s. on Saturday night, and he was starving them—I gave her some meat and porter, and told her to come and see me to-morrow—she said "I don't know about to-morrow; I may be dead, or I may be in the hospital"—I said "If you talk like that to me I shall box your ears."

Cross-examined. She did not say anything about her husband having tried to cut her throat that morning, or to use a knife to her; nothing more than I have said.

LOUISA HARROP . I live next door to the Radley—on this night my daughter came in and told me something, and I went out with her—I saw the prisoner standing outside against the wooden fence, smoking his pipe—I first went to the prosecutrix, and rose her from the ground—there was no one in the place but her—she did not speak to me—I said to Radley "Come and help me"—he said "I will; what can I do?"—I said "Stand here, and hold her head against your knees till we send for a doctor, "which he did, and he stood there till the doctor and policeman came.


The Prisoner received a good character.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-687
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

Related Material

687. EDWIN CUBITT SPAUL (23) , Feloniously killing and slaying Hannah Rebecca Weeden. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BRINDLET the Defence SARAH ANN RODWELL. I am single, and at the time this happened I was living with the prisoner as his wife at Earl's Court, Kensington; we lived in the top front room—a little girl, thirteen months old when I took her, was left with me on 22nd July by Hannah Weeden—I was to be paid 4s. a week, quarterly, but I had received no money at all—I was then living in Palmer Place, Victoria Street, Westminster—on the evening of 7th September I was out shopping, five or ten minutes' walk from home, and as I was coming out of a public-house, the prisoner met me and said "Sarah, I want you"—I said "What is it?"—he said "You had better make haste off home, for I am afraid you will find the child dead"—I went straight home; he did not go with me; I found the child exactly where I left it on the bed—I took it on my lap by the fire, and gave it some tea—it was not dead when I found it, but it died in my arms, and I laid it down on the bed again, and went out and met the prisoner coming towards home crying very bitterly—I said "Ted, Ted, what have you done? you have been and done it"—he said he was very sorry, but he did not do it with the intention of killing the child, he had not that thought in his head for a moment; that he went home with the intention of changing his clothes, and the child was making a grunting noise and crying, and he took it and nursed it for some considerable time and it did not leave off crying and would not be quiet at all, so he laid it down again, and then he took the pepper-box off the table, and sprinkled a little on the child's mouth—he did not say then that the top came off—I went down with him to my sister's house, Mrs. Spaul, and asked her to speak to Ted, as he was in trouble—she asked him what it was that he had done—I was crying too bitterly, to hear what was said—we remained there about twenty minutes—he was taken into custody that night, Saturday, and on Monday morning he was taken before a Magistrate—I went and saw him in the House of Detention on the Tuesday, and asked him how he did it—he said that he laid the child down, and took the pepper-box off the table, and wanted to sprinkle a little in the child's mouth, and the top fell off it—he was in drink on the Saturday night—the child was left with me on 22nd July, and I was to be paid when the quarter came, but I have never seen the mother since, or received a farthing of money—I had been in the habit of giving the child hot things with its meals, pepper, mustard, and a little horse-radish—it seemed to like it; it did not seem to throw it back again, it seemed to eat it just as another child would—I gave it pepper mixed up on a bit of meat, the same as I had for my own meals; it had exactly the same as I had, I fed it from my own plate—my age is twenty-two; I have no children—I have seen my brother's child two years and a half old eat pepper.

Cross-examined. In going to Kensington we went to the house of the prisoner's mother; we were using her room—I was to have been married to the prisoner the day after to-morrow—the prisoner was not sober, he had had quite enough to excite him; he seemed in great distress indeed—he called me to the child, and he was coming to the house when I met him—he went with Mrs. Spaul to fetch a doctor after I had been home, after the child was dead—he knew that I gave the child pepper with her meals; I have given it to my sister's child for wind in the stomach—he was kind to the child on every occasion; he had formed no ill-will to the child in any way, he never ill-used it, he always seemed fond of it—he said that it was an accident, and not wilfully done; he was crying about it, and very much

cut up—he never told me he had given the child pepper with a teaspoon—the top of the pepper-caster was loose, and it had fallen off in my hand on two or three occasions.

COURT. Q. Has he seen it fall off? A. No, it was when he was away, and I was getting his meals—it was not his mother's castor, it was my own.

Re-examined. I have never given the child pepper at any time but with her meals.

SUSANNAH SPAUL . I am the wife of William Soames Spaul, of Earl's Terrace—the prisoner is my brother; he is a builder, and has been acting as carman to a builder for some weeks past—on 7th September the prisoner and Mrs. Rod well came to me together—she had been there before, to pay me some money she owed me in the week, and I asked her to go out and get me some coppers; she did so, and came back with the prisoner; she looked very much excited, in fact both of them did—I said, "What is the matter? come indoors;" and then she said "Ted has done something, may he speak to you?" and then she said "Tell Susan what you have done, Ted"—I took hold of him, and said, "What is it? tell me the truth"—he said that he had done something to the child—I asked him what he had done; he said he had given the child a little pepper, and he was afraid he had killed it—the girl said, "What do you think he had better do?"—I said, "Go to Dr. Parker at once"—I went too, sending Edwin back first to Rodwell for the key—he was crying a good deal; he was very much excited, and I believe it was from liquor.

Cross-examined. He was very much distressed, and crying, and he said going along how sorry he was that it had happened—I have been married to his brother ten years, and have known him from a little boy; he bears a very good character, but he is very excitable and hot tempered—he told me that he got some water to wash the pepper out of the child's mouth. Re-examined. By hot tempered I mean easily annoyed, passionate. GEORGE SEYMOUR (Detective Officer T). On 7th September I was spoken to, and went to the prisoner's house—I found the dead body of a child on the bed; there was some pepper on its mouth and some on its face—I fetched Dr. Orton, and Mr. Parker was in the room when I came back—I asked the doctor the cause of the child's death; he said no doubt it had been killed by pepper being administered to it—the prisoner was sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, and Rodwell said, "Ted, Ted, you know you done it in one of your mad freaks"—he went to a washhand-stand, and drank some water out of a jug, and said, "You know I never killed a rabbit or cat in my life, leave alone a child"—he was very much excited and quite hysterical; he seemed to have been drinking—I said I should charge him and his wife with causing the death of the child—I received the pepper-castor from the Coroner's officer, who took it from the table, and took it from the room.

Cross-examined. I did not take the top off; I believe the Coroner's officer took it off and fixed it on again—the prisoner was in great distress, he was greatly excited; he put this handkerchief round his neck, and pulled both ends of it, and tried to strangle himself.

ALFRED HENRY PARKER . I am a physician, of 47, Earl's Court Road—on Saturday night, 7th September, I was called to the house, and saw the child lying on the bed—it had been dead about half-an-hour—there was pepper all over its face, principally about its mouth; its eyes were open,

and there was pepper upon the eyeballs, also in the nostrils, and there was a lump of pepper on the tongue, which appeared to have been worked together with the saliva into a body—I think the pepper would cause a flow of saliva—there was also pepper in the crevices of the neck—the front of the pinafore was wet, and there was pepper on it—It appeared to have been washed from the face, and that is the way I believe it found its way into the crevices of the neck—there were two bruises on the face; a large one on the left cheek, extending from the angle of the mouth to the lobe of the ear, about three days old—there was also a recent bruise, very slight, on the right cheek—by the colour I should not judge that it had been done more than half-a-dozen hours—I made & post-mortem examination, and found that the mouth and throat, by which I mean the cavity of the mouth, not the gullet, contained a large quantity of pepper—I could have got a teaspoonful of pepper from the throat which had not entered the gullet—there was a little pepper in the throat, and a little in the passage of the stomach, but the greater quantity I found in the air passages, which led to death—there was a very large quantity there—I should think the child must have had half-an-ounce of pepper in its mouth, apart from what appeared on its face—I saw the pepper-box when I went into the room, the top was on; there was very little in it. Cross-examined. I observed wet about the child's dress, as though there had been an attempt to wash the pepper from its neck—I have said that if the top had fallen off accidentally, there might be enough escape from the bottle to account for all I saw—it holds two ounces.

COURT to S. A. RODWKLL Q. Do you know how much pepper there was in it?—A. Only a halfpennyworth, and I had used it for a week, and it was up to here.

Q. But it is up to there now?—A. There was that much, and no more, because I was never in the habit of getting more than a halfpennyworth—I swear that the top has come off three times—I last put a halfpennyworth of pepper into the bottle the week before I left Westminster.—


Recommended to mercy by the Jury, believing that the top of the castor came

off by accident, and that lie did not seriously consider what he was doing, through

drink.— Six Months' Imprisonment.

NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 26, 1872.

Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-688
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

688. JOHN HART (34) , embezzling the sums of 5l., 4l. 4s., and 2l. 18s. 6d., of Charles Julius Ryland, his master.

MESSRS. POLAND and COLLINS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. METCALFE the Defence.

SAMUEL SALT . I am a builder, of 2, Montague Place, Millwall—I was a customer of Messrs. Bradley & Son—on 27th April I paid the prisoner 5l. on account of Bradley's estate; he signed this receipt (produced) and gave it to me.

Cross-examined. The business went on just the same, in the name of Samuel Bradley & Son.

SAMUEL COLLIS . I am clerk to Cutler & Sons, gas engineers, of Providence Works, Millwall—on 11th May I paid the prisoner 2l. 18s. 6d. on account of Bradley & Son; he gave me this receipt (produced).

MARCUS NEWMAN . I am clerk to Mr. Raphael, a silver refiner—on 6th

May I paid 4l. 4s. on account of Messrs. Bradley, and received this receipt (signed "John Hart")—I cannot say that I paid the prisoner.

NATHANIEL WHITE . I am a solicitor, of 28, Bridge Row, Cannon Street, and am attesting witness to this deed (produced), dated 21st November, 1871—it is also executed by Mr. Ryland, but his signature is not attested by me.

ALFRED LOVE . I am messenger at the office for the registration of proceedings—I produce the proceedings filed in the Court of Bankruptcy relating to the liquidation of the estate of Samuel Bradley & Son—the petition was presented on 16th September, 1871, when William Charles Julius Ryland was appointed receiver—on 10th October a resolution was passed by the creditors (This was a composition of 5s. in the pound, to which C. J. Ryland was appointed trustee)—this was filed in the ordinary way in the Bankruptcy 'Court—the draft of the deed was also filed.

CHARLES ATTENBOROUGH . I am clerk to Humphreys & Morgan, the solicitors conducting this prosecution—on 17th September I served a notice to produce on the prisoner, of which this (produced) is a copy.

JOSEPH GOSS . I "am an accountant, of Burdett Road, Limehouse—I was employed by Mr. Ryland to receive moneys on behalf of the estate of Samuel Bradley & Son, and came to London for that purpose on 29th December, 1871—the business was being carried on at the head premises of the firm, at St. George's, and Providence Road, Limehouse—the prisoner was employed at 3, Providence Place, Limehouse—I told him that all moneys collected by him would have to be handed over to me—he had a till-book containing entries of money received—his salary was 2l. 10s. per week—I, as Mr. Ryland's representative, received moneys on account of the estate, and acted in the management of the business—Mr. Bradley also assisted, and was paid 6l. per week—I kept the banking account at the Whitechapel branch of the London and Westminster Bank; there was a separate account in the name of Mr. Ryland—all moneys were paid into the bank and partly used for the business—I paid the prisoner 2l. 10s. a week myself; it was his duty to receive moneys due, and enter them in the till-book—there is no entry in the till-book of 5l. received from Mr. Salt on 27th April; there are no entries by the prisoner that day, or the day before, or the day after—the last entry by him was on 20th April, and the next afterwards on May 6—4l. 4s. was due from Mr. Raphael on May 6, but here is no entry of it, although there are entries that day of 17l. 16s. and 6l. 6s., in the proper way—here is no entry of 2l. 18s. 6d. from Mr. Cutler on 11th May, or of any other sum; I see no entry after 6th May—he was discharged on June 15; Mr. Ryland gave him a written notice, and 10l. was paid to him in lieu of a month's notice—those sums still stand in the books—on 5th June I made out this list of accounts owing from the ledger which the prisoner was supposed to keep—it is called "Accounts owing considered good"—I told the prisoner to go through that list and tick off each that was good, and make any memoranda against those that are doubtful or bad—he ticked various items, and returned the list to me, with this memorandum in his own writing: "All I have ticked are good, and will pay, but most of them next quarter, J. H."—Salt's, Cutler's, and Raphael's accounts are ticked on tbat list—after he was discharged further investigation was made, and about the latter end of May, or the beginning of June, I asked the prisoner how it was that there were so many accounts still owing, as we considered they were very good customers and ought to pay; he kept putting it off, saying

that they would pay next Saturday—up to the present time the composition of 5s. in the pound has been paid regularly.

Cross-examined. Some accounts are marked "Promised, Saturday"—this is an ironmongery business, and a very good one—freed from difficulty, the profits would work nearer 5,000l. a year than 1,000l., and it might be made a good deal better than that—I first took proceedings against the prisoner about two months after he left; it was in August—I found out these sums in July, after he was discharged—I heard that he was doing something of the same kind of business, and attracting some of our customers, but proceedings had commenced before that—Mr. Ryland had instructed our solicitors at Bristol in consequence of something I wrote to him, but I did not urge him to do so—Mr. Temple's is a very good shop, in the Mile End Road, two or three miles from ours—the prisoner was carrying on business at his own house, just across the road—our business is still carried on in the name of Bradley & Son—Mr. Bradley is here—he received money from the prisoner to my knowledge—when the prisoner paid any of these sums he might pay them over to Bradley, and I find Bradley's entries in this book on receiving moneys—this is the till-book—this "till" means the contents of the till taken over the counter in the day—the entry is Mr. Penfold's, the assistant—he received money—if the prisoner brought in 5l. in gold, he might pay it to Mr. Penfold to pay to me—he would put it in the till—Bradley received money, but he had no right to I kept an account between the prisoner and the firm, and reported it to Bristol—this is the cash-book—this "Raphael 72, T. Hart, folio 442, 7, 7, "is simply entered and charged to suspense account, on the other side—"S. B." is put against that entry, which means Samuel Bradley—those are entries where Bradley has told me that he has received the moneys—the only entry that I know of where the prisoner has handed money over to Bradley is this of January 31, where he received 50l., and paid 35l. over to me—he paid Bradley 15l. 0s. 9d.—that was included in 57l. 9s. 11d. received by Mr. Bradley—35l. of the 50l. is entered in the till-book, and the 15l. which he paid over to Bradley, to my knowledge, is not entered—if Bradley received it, or any other sum from him, it was his duty to enter it in the till-book; and if he paid over to Penfold, it would be the prisoner's duty to enter it—Penfold did not receive money from the debtors—I have entered in the till-book moneys which he paid in when he neglected to do so—I then entered what I had received from him—that has occurred six or seven times, perhaps—I hare sometimes made an entry in my own cash-book, and I applied to him afterwards for the name of the person from whence he received the money, when I found he had neglected to do so—I then entered what I had received from him—I have never entered in the till moneys received from him—I applied to him two or three days afterwards for the name—nobody used the till-book but Penfold, Bradley, and myself—Hunt did not use it—he did not receive money—he was at the other part of the business—he only came there to make up the books—there is one day of entries of the prisoner after 20th May—from 20th April the other entries are Penfold's, Henderville's, and mine—Henderville entered from my cash-book when he found the prisoner had neglected to do so—I find no entry of Bradley's there—this entry marked "S. B." is in Henderville's writing—that means some money which he has received—I find that Bradley has received about 150l.; he has received sums since the prisoner left, and he has received cheques, and appropriated the money—Mr. Watkins had occupied the position I occupy

before—I have no written appointment; I am general clerk to Mr. Ryland—there are not in the list I have handed to you sums which to my knowledge the prisoner has collected and paid over to Bradley—I do not recollect one that Bradley or Bond has received—Bradley received this 2l. 14s. of the Millwall Engineering Company on January 14th, and gave a receipt for it—that was before the list was ticked—that was not received by the prisoner, and handed over to Bradley—I know that 13l. of North's account was paid by cheque, and the prisoner gave a receipt for it—I asked the prisoner on the day he left whether there were any accounts which were not entered—he said that there was a few, and that Bradley had had the money; that he had received it, and paid it to Bradley—I applied to Duncan's myself for about 80l., and saw some of the prisoner's receipts.

Re-examined. I find that the prisoner has received from 180l., to 200l. and not entered it—the till-book was kept at the premises of the firm, and if the course of business had been regular, each person who received money would enter it there—I was not present when he paid Penfold any money—when he paid money over he paid it at his risk—I was there every day—Henderville was a clerk at the other shop, he is now down at Limehouse because the other place is given up—the prisoner ought not to have paid money over to Bradley—on 30th January, there is an entry of 35l. out of 50l. and I have found out that 15l. was paid to Bradley, but I know of no other case—after the prisoner left I enquired particularly into the accounts and reported to Mr. Ryland every day—I consulted Mr. Bradley as to the management of the business—here is a regular debtor and creditor account against Bradley.

CHARLES JULIUS RYLAND . I am an accountant, of Bristol—I was appointed receiver, and afterwards inspector; my appointment is on the file—the deed produced is executed by me, and Mr. Goss was my representative in London—I opened a banking account in my own name at the London and Westminster Bank, in order that moneys should be paid in to my credit—I arranged with the prisoner to pass all money to my assistant, whoever he might be, there, and to account to me for it; I told him first of all to pay Mr. Watkins, and afterwards Mr. Goss—he had difficulty in collecting money from some of the creditors, and to show that he was acting under authority, I gave him that authority—it was his duty in receiving money to enter it in the cash-book, which was sent to me weekly—I told the prisoner that there had been irregularities in times gone by, and that I should prosecute the first person I found misappropriating any money—I had heard that he had paid money to Mr. Bradley, and said that he had no business whatever to do so, but must pay it to my assistant—that was between 10th October and 1st November—the salary of 2l. 10s., was paid regularly out of the funds of the estate, the same as before; Bradley had 6l. for the maintenance of himself, and his wife, and his family, while the liquidation was going on—the prisoner has been in the service of the firm some years—he admitted that there had been irregularities, and promised that he would not repeat it.

Cross-examined. The amount of debts owing are about 6000l—the deed is not signed by a single creditor, because we were paying 20s. in the pound—had we wanted to bind them to pay less, I suppose we should have asked them to sign—I said that I should prosecute anybody guilty of irregularity, and I have not prosecuted Bradley; he has I believe, received 150l., not more—there is power under the deed to take an assignment of the estate,

but I did not do so, because I thought it would damage the business—it is a matter of law whether the estate still remained in Bradley—I have not applied to the Court to enforce Bradley to submit to the deed—I am aware that I can proceed against him for receiving money; I have not done so because T thought it would damage the business—I have not prosecuted him because he has not received these sums—he is debited with the 150l—I knew in October that the prisoner had let Bradley hare money, but not frequently—I gave the prisoner 10l. in lieu of notice, but I knew he had received money and paid it over to Bradley, I gave him the 10l. to get rid of him.

SAMUEL BRADLEY . I am a member of the firm of Bradley & Son, ironmongers—some time last year I had to consult my creditors—I executed this deed last November, and from that time Mr. Ryland acted as receiver—I have received 6l. a week—the prisoner was formerly my clerk, his salary was 2l. 10s. per week—he was employed in collecting moneys—I have never received from him 5l. from Mr. Salt, for the payment of a debt owing to the firm, or 4l. 1s. from Mr. Raphael, or 2l. 18s. 6d. from Mr. Cutler—I was not aware that the prisoner had received those three sums when he left on the 15th June.

Cross-examined. I did not keep an entry of what he did pay me—he handed me some money over after the appointment of the inspector, but I do not know how much, or how many times—I think I received 15l. once; it was part of 50l—I do not remember how much at another time—I did not, to my knowledge, meet him at the door when he came home from collecting, and take what money he had—I may have been a little the worse for liquor perhaps twice in the last five or six months—I am sometimes so; I call it a little bit funny—I do not know that I want cash when I am funny—I like a little racing and sports—I go to races—I do not like favourites; I back the field—I do not keep a book for that—I do not think I have received 150l. or 200l. from the prisoner; I will not swear that I have not—I do not know when it commenced—the prisoner has been in the employment seven years—he was not by any means active in keeping the business together—I do not remember receiving this cheque from the Limehouse Works for 25l.; I might have—I received this one for 38l. 2s. from Kircaldy—I have never asked the prisoner for money, but sometimes he would say "I am going collecting, and if you are a bit short, I can get you some"—I did not bet in May and June—when I received this money I did not tell Mr. Goss, I left him to find it out—I do not think you will find any entry of mine in the cash-book—Hart would enter the 38l. from Kircaldy & Son in the cash-book; I did not—I did not once break open his desk; it was seldom locked; I went to it when I was a little bit funny.

Q. Did you burn any papers? A. There were some sporting papers, and a pack of cards; there was nothing of value there—I did not break it open a second night, but I broke open Penfold's desk—I did not burn his papers; I merely broke it open because it happened to be locked—I was particularly funny then—Penfold never objected to that to me—I did not destroy his papers—I cannot tell whether there were any papers showing what sums he had paid to me; that was a very long time before the prisoner left—I was funny enough to break open the till on the same night as the desk, but there was nothing in it—I did not discharge Rogers; Mr. Goss did.

Re-examined. It is five or six months since I broke open the prisoner's desk, but I did not break open the desk where the papers were burnt; it

was open; that was the prisoner's desk—I burnt the cards and sporting papers; there were no other papers there that I know of—I am quite certain I never received these three sums—I never had any small amounts from the prisoner; they would be no use to me.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-689
VerdictsNot Guilty > no evidence

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689. JOHN HART was again indicted for embezzling three other sums of his said master; also to feloniously forging an endorsement on a cheque with intent to defraud, on which no evidence was offered.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-690
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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690. JOHN BROWN (32) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Eliza Summerfield, and stealing therein a watch of Thomas Alfred Simmonds.

MR. AUSTEN METCALFE , conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS ALFRED SIMMONDS . I am a bookbinder, and lodge at 5, Hallett Place, Clerkenwell—on 19th September I was in bed about 12.30—a band came up the street, and the prisoner came into my room—I said "Who's there?" he made no answer—I looked over the bedstead and said "What do you want?" he said "All right, "and left the room—I followed him, and be jumped from the landing window into the yard—I saw him run into the wash-house, and about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes afterwards I law him in the hands of the police, wearing my coat, which had been safe ia my room; this is it (produced),

CHARLES SUMMERFIELD . I live with my mother at this house—on 19th September, about 12.30 at night, I was awoke by a cry of "Thieves!"—I got up and found the prisoner in the wash-house—I asked for a broom to knock him down with—an entrance had been effected through the landing window—he had put his hand through a broken square of glass, and drawn the bolt—he was caught by the police—I had fastened the window at 11.30.

JOHN WESLEY (Policeman Q 181). I met the prisoner coming up the yard from the cow-sheds, stopped him, and asked him what he had been up to—he said he had only stolen a coat—I said "It this the one you have out"—he said "Yes."

GUILTY Six Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-691
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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691. CAROLINE GIAMELLI (22) , PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully concealing the birth of her child— Judgment respited.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-692
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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692. RICHARD GEE (28) and ROBERT GARDENER (27) , Robbery on George Keeling Marchant, and stealing a watch and chain, his property.

MR. WHITELET conducted the Prosecution; and MR. DAVIS the Defence.

GEORGE REELING MARCHANT . I am a printers' warehouseman, and live at 12, Bath Place, Addington Square, Camberwell—on Tuesday, 12th September, about 12.15 a.m., I was. in John Street, Smithfield, and was attacked by two men; one caught me in this way, and the other over the shoulder—I think I said "What do you want here? What! another one on me, too!" and before I had time to speak I was down, and struck my face on the ground, and my nose bled—I got up, and missed my watch and guard—the men went away as fast as they could, and a policeman came and sent me to the hospital—I was hurt very much; I got my eye blinded, and had to be shut up for nearly thirty hours—the prisoners are the men, I am positive—that I absolutely swear—I picked them out from thirteen or fourteen others, and am positive of them.

Cross-examined. I had been to Highbury, and had had a half-pint of beer

at the Cock at Holloway—I am not rather excitable—a half-pint of beer would not make me a little foolish, nor four or five pints—I did not see the men coming towards me, not till they caught hold of me, and then I saw them—they came from behind, but I saw them by the reflection of the gas—I may have said before the Magistrate "I cannot positively swear they are the men"—I was all tremulous, but it was not through drink.

Re-examined. I was perfectly sober.

WILLIAM BEST . I am night watchman at the Dead Meat Market—on Tuesday morning, 10th September, just at 12.15, I was in St. John Street, turning out of St. John's Lane, and heard a feeble cry of "Stop thief!"—I looked round in the direction of the sound, and saw an old gentleman on his hands and knees, getting up, and three men running away from him—I stood still, and they ran by my left—I caught a momentary glance, and then turned round and saw their backs—the prisoners are two of them—I had seen their faces about there previously—they were not perfect strangers to me—I was called to the police-station, and saw Gardener with about a dozen others—I said that, to the best of my opinion, Gardener was one of them, but I could not swear—Gardener pulled a paper out of his pocket, and said that he had been at work—I pass by Peter's Lane night and morning, and that made me fear I should be molested—I went there again on the Saturday following, and identified Gee—I have not the least doubt that he is the man.

Cross-examined. Peter's Lane is a very bad place—I should not be afraid of one man, but I should of three or four—I should be very glad if the prisoners were got out of the way—I am certain it was 12.15, because I always look at the clock as I go into the market.

WILLIAM COUSINS (Policeman G 221). On 9th September I was on duty in Peter's Lane, St. John Street, and saw the prisoner Gee—I knew their names when I was before the Magistrate, but I made a mistake—I am quite sure the man I mean is the man here, I called him Gardener—I saw him between 11.30 and 11.45—I heard cries of "Police!" proceeded to the spot, and found the prosecutor lying on the pavement with his nose bleeding; he was just getting up—he complained, and I took him to the hospital; the watchman came up at the time.

Cross-examined. Peter's Lane is frequented by low characters of ft night.

RICHARD KENWOOD (Detective Sergeant G). I received a description of three persons, and was present when Gardener was apprehended in consequence of that description; he was placed among fourteen other men, and Beat went up and picked him out, and told him to turn round and let him have a look at his back as well—he said, "That is the man, "but he did not like positively to swear to him, and in consequence of that the man was let go—Gardener said something and held up his hand, but I could not hear what he said—on Saturday, the 14th, I took Gee in St. John's Lane; I told him it was for being concerned with two others in robbing a man of his watch and chain on Tuesday morning, the 10th—he said he knew nothing about it; he was charged at the station and said, "I never robbed the man before in my life"—he was placed among several others, and Best walked up to him and said "This is one of the men"—I went to the prosecutor that evening but he was ill in bed; he came on the Sunday morning, and the prisoners were placed in a passage between two cells, and Best picked out Gardener, and said, "This is one of them, "but he was not quite

certain of Gee—I have been in the force seven years, and have had many cages of identification; this was conducted in a proper manner; fourteen persons were brought in from the street and put with them.

ROBERT WAKEFIELD . I took Gardener on 10th September, took him to the station, and told him I took him for being concerned with two others, not in custody, in stealing a watch from an old gentleman, and assaulting him, between 12 and 1 o'clock in the morning—he said, "I know nothing about it, I can bring witnesses to prove that I was at work all night;" he afterwards said, "What time did you say it waif"—I said, "Between 12 and I this morning"—he said, "I was at home and in bed at the time"—I took him to the station, he was placed with fourteen others and let go, because Best did not identify him—Gardner lifted up his hand, shook it, and said, "Mind what you are saying for I am a respectable man"—I reapprehended Gardener on the Saturday evening.

GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment each.

THIRD COURT—Thursday, September 26th, 1872.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-693
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Corporal > whipping

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693. WILLIAM JOHNSON (20) , Robbery with violence on Patrick Leehan, and stealing a handkerchief, his property.

MR. WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution.

PATRICK LEEHAN . I am a labourer, and live at 7, John's Place—about 9.30 on the night of September 4th I was in Brick Lane—the prisoner stopped me, and asked me to give him a penny for him and his mate, as they were going reaping in the morning—I told him I had not got one—he caught me by the waistcoat, and put his hand into my right-hand pocket—I told him I had not got a penny in my possession—he struck me, and put his hand in again, and pulled out my tobacco box, knife, and a pipe—I said "You are going too far with that; I will give you six months"—he struck me again, and I was dragged into Flower and Dean Street—I was knocked about and kicked fearfully—the prisoner struck at me all the while—I heard some words pass to have the handkerchief I was wearing on my neck, and that was taken—the prisoner was choking me at the time I was down, and he took the handkerchief from me—he put the tobacco box and the knife in—my pocket again—I was insensible for a few, minutes after—I waited till I saw a constable, and I went then to the police-station—the sergeant told me to go, and if I could see the prisoner, to give him into custody—I met a constable in Brick Lane, and went in search of the prisoner, and gave him into custody—I was not capable of performing daily labour for some time after.

Prisoner. Q. Did not the sergeant say he had a good mind to look you up? A. No; the constable that I met in Brick Lane said he would lock me up, and then I went to the station.

COURT. Q. How long were they handling you in Brick Lane? A. It was very near five minutes when he was trying to get the money from me—there was another chap with him, and a man over the way—I had had a drop to drink, but nothing to affect me—I gave a description before the man was taken into custody.

LUKE KEAN (Policeman H 163). The prosecutor spoke to me about 10.45 in Briok Laue, and gave me the description of a man—we met the prisoner coming out of a public-house, and the prosecutor gave him in

charge—the prosecutor was slightly under the influence of drink, but he had his perfect senses.

Prisoner's Defence. I don't think it stands to reason that I could resist a big man without him making some resistance. I am quite innocent of the charge.


He also PLEADED GUILTY* to having been before convicted in October, 1871.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude and Twenty-five Lashes.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-694
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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694. JAMES SCOTT (27) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 40l. 10s. 6d., with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. POLAND and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

ROBERT DICKENSON . I am a chemist, at Broadway, Stratford—I have known the prisoner as traveller to Messrs. Cleaver & Sons, soap manufacturers—on 16th August I drew this cheque and handed it to him, and he gave me this receipt—the amount of the cheque then was 4l. 10s. 6d—it has been altered to "fourty."

JOHN KIPPS . I am cashier at the Stratford branch of the London and County Bank—Mr. Robert Dickenson keeps an account there—this cheque was presented at the bank on 22nd August as it is now, I believe by the prisoner—when I saw the signature was correct, I asked him the usual question "How will you take it?"—he replied "Gold; I want it for change"—I paid him in gold—I should think he was under my observation about two minutes—the ledger-keeper called my attention to the cheque a little after 3 in the afternoon, and I communicated with Mr. Dickenson, and afterwards with Messrs. Cleaver—I went to Messrs. Cleaver's premises on the morning of the 23rd—the prisoner came in about 9.50—I identified him then—I had never seen him before, to my knowledge, except when he was at the bank—on the afternoon of the 22nd a gentleman handed me some cards which he took from the front of the counter, at the place where the man stood who presented the cheque—these are the cards (produced).

Cross-examined. I say now that I believe the prisoner to be the man who presented the cheque—I have said all along that, to the best of my belief, he is the man—he came in to Messrs. Cleaver's while I was there—the cheque was presented, as near as I can say, after 12 and before 12.40—I left the bank at that time—it was not presented later than that—when my attention was called to the cheque, I saw there was something the matter with it—I said before the Magistrate it was between 11 and 12.40—I have since referred to my book, and find it must have been between 12 and 12.40—I had a few other cheques presented that morning, but it was the last entry but one I made before I went to dinner.

WILLIAM WILLIAMS . I live at Belgrave Villas, Romford Road, Stratford—I was in the London and County Bank, at Stratford, on 22nd August, between 2 o'clock and 2.30—I saw these cards lying at the back of the cashier's desk, by the inkstand—I gave them to Mr. Kipps.

WILLIAM STANLEY . I am town traveller to Messrs. Cleaver—I succeeded the prisoner—he was under notice to leave at the end of August, and on the 22nd I went the round of customers with him—we went from Messers. Cleaver's about 10.30—I walked with him as far as the Euston Road—he left me there, and said he had to go about some business in the City, and he told me to meet him again in about two hours' time in the Edgware Road, at one of our customers'—he left me about 11.25—we had made some

calls between Messrs. Cleaver's and the Euston Road—I walked to the Edgware Road, to Long's, the hairdresser's, and got there about 1.30—I saw the prisoner again about 2.30.

FREDERICK ROGEUS . I am cashier to Messrs. Cleaver—the prisoner was in their service during 1871, and down to August, 1872—his business was to collect orders, and if he received moneys to pay them over the next day tome—he paid me several sums on the 15th, 16th, 17th, 19th, 20th, 21st, and 22nd—he did not pay me a cheque for 4l. 10s. 6d. for Mr. Dickenson, nor any cash—he did not tell me that he had received that cheque and had lost it—if he received it on the 16th he ought to have paid it to me on the 17th—I believe the writing on this card, "Mrs. Hockley, 8, Waterloo Place," to be the prisoner's.

Cross-examined. We have some of the prisoner's handwriting in our possession—I don't know whether there is any in Court—I don't know that any has been given to Mr. Mullens, the solicitor for the Bankers' Association—I don't know whether the writing has been compared—I was not called before the Magistrate; I was in the country—I have not compared this card with the prisoner's writing—I say it is his from the general character of it—I can't tell you of any peculiarity.

FREDERICK BROWN . I am a collector in the employ of Messrs, Clearer—this little red book contains the entries of amounts paid by the prisoner and initialed by the cashier—I have seen this card—the writing on it is Tery similar to the prisoner's, but I can't say that it is his—he never accounted to me for this 4l. 10s. 6d—on the morning Mr. Kippe came to our house the prisoner told me he had lost the cheque—he never said a word about having lost it until that time.

Cross-examined. This book is in the writing of Rogers, the pay cashier—I believe there is some of the prisoner's writing in Court—I have seen another book in the hands of the detective; the prisoner's order-book I—see some similarity in the writing—I speak of the general character, having seen it every morning—I should consider that the card had been held in the hand—the part of this book which I have looked at is in the prisoner's handwriting—the prisoner was at Messrs. Cleaver's nine or ten months—they keep two town travellers, and he was one of them.

ELIZA HACKNEY . I live at 22, Stafford Road, Old Ford—on 16th August I was staying at Brighton with a friend, Miss Pierce, at 8, Waterlow Place—I had been there about a fortnight before the 16th—on the 12th or 13th I met a gentleman on the pier—I don't know who he was—I gave him my name and address, and he wrote it on a card—I snatched the card out of his hand—it was something like this one—he wrote the name at the corner.

Cross-examined. My friends were away from Brighton, and I was there alone—it was my intention to meet the gentleman to go to the regatta—I had not seen him before—it was about 9 o'clock in the evening, and it was written by the light of the lamps.

GEORGE SCOTT (City Detective Sergeant). On 23rd August I was at Messrs. Cleaver's, with Mr. Kipps—I took the prisoner into custody—I told him he would be charged with altering a cheque for 4l. 10s. 6d. to 40l. 10s. 6d., and showed him the cheque—he said "I know nothing about it; I never saw that cheque before"—I said "What! you know nothing about it?"—he said "Well, I took it, and I put it into my waistcoat pocket, and I know nothing more about it"—I took him first to Mr. Mullens' office, to tell him I was going to Stratford—Mr. Mullens was not there, and I remained until

he came, and then he authorised me to take him to Bow Lane Station—on the way the prisoner bolted, and ran some distance up Cheapside—his head came in contact with a horse's head, and he was knocked into the arms of one of our sergeants—I found this book, 3l. 5s. 7d., two gold rings, and some papers on him—after the examination before the Magistrate I told the prisoner I had found he was dealing with 13l. 10s. on the evening of the day the cheque was presented; that he had bought some furniture, and 10s., he gave a young woman—he said "Oh! that was my savings."

Cross-examined. I have seen the cards which have been produced—Mr. Luker of Brighton, to whom they refer, is dead—there is no one here from the livery stables at Brighton.

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-695
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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695. THOMAS TODD (31) , Feloniously and maliciously wounding Margaret McCarthy with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.

MR. A. B. KELLY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAM and CHARLES MATTHEWS the Defence.

MARGARET MCCARTHY . I have been living with the prisoner as his wife,—I have got six little children—on Saturday, 24th August, he came home about 12.30, this began on the Friday night—I could remember more two days after I came out of the chloroform than I could before—I have been very annoying and aggravating to this man—I had a good deal to drink—I was drunk when he came home—I stated at the hospital that I was not tipsy, I felt sober, but I don't expect I was—we had some supper and he slammed the door, and said something about could not I have a pint of beer at home without going from public-house to public-house—I struck him—he had a silk handkerchief round his throat, and it was doubled in a knot—I felt very strong, and I took hold of him, and he struggled with me he says "Will you loose I" and I said "Loose me, "and we fell up against where the iron bars were, and there was a baking-dish—he got hold of me and said "Loose me;" but I got him by the throat first—I told the magistrate that he tried to strangle me, but I struck him first with the lid of the boiler—I remember going down the court—we both fell together in different places in the room and when I got to the bottom of the court I felt the pain, but I felt the pain on the chair—I did not feel any pain going down the court, I felt thirsty, for a drink—I did not feel anything come into any part of my person—it was only a small swelling at the time—he did not kick me—I could not tell what it was done with—I felt a violent pain when I fell on the chair, and I felt it throbbing; I did not feel anything to say sharp, but I suppose I felt it after the fall—I hardly remember what I told the Magistrate, it was just as I came out of the chloroform—he did not kick me—I remember being on my hands and knees at Mr. McDonald's door—I screamed out but it was not "Murder 1"—I said while this was going on "I will be the death of you, or you shall be the death of me"—I went to Mrs. McDonald myself, and when I felt the blood I said "I am dying; "but I did not see it beforehand—the doctor came to me—I got my husband by the throat first and he got me afterwards, but he did not hurt me, there were no marks only on the jaw—I had struck him with the baking dish, and can't say whether that was on the floor when I fell—I know I felt stronger than he did at the time—I did not have a kick—I said I felt something behind, and I went on the chair, and that was where I felt the pain—I signed my depositions in the hospital as well an I could—I don't remember it being read

—I hardly remember what I said—he did not kick me. (The witness's deposition stated "I was lying on the chair when I felt a kick from behind.")

Cross-examined. I had chloroform given me at the hospital—I struck him on the head with the lid of the boiler, and then he struck me back on the side of the face—I had been drinking with persons he had told me not to drink with—the pieces of iron were fixed in the clay tub—I fell several times, but we fell against the door where the clay tub was—I did not see any instrument in his hand—I might have fallen also on the baking-dish.

THOMAS SMITH . I live at 4, York Buildings, Westminster, opposite where the prisoner lives—I heard screaming about 2 or 3 o'clock on the Sunday morning—they were in a female voice—I went to the window and looked out, I saw Mrs. Todd—she was in a stooping position—she was calling for help from the neighbours—she went along the court almost on her hands and knees—she lay there in the court about a quarter of an hour before any one came to her—I could not say whether she was drunk or sober—I fancied she was sober—I called my daughter.

MARGARET SMITH . I live with my father—I heard screaming about 2.30—I looked out and saw Mrs. Todd going along on her hands and knees—I saw Mrs. McDonald helping her into the house—I saw blood on the ground—I can't say whether she was drunk or sober—T believe I told the Magistrate she was sober.

Cross-examined. I had no opportunity of judging.

MARY LAWLEY . I live at Grubb's Court—I was standing at my door—I heard screams, and Mrs. Todd came to the door, and she said "Is there any neighbour in the court to save me, I am choking?"—I took her up stairs and bathed her; she was swelled very much in a part which I am ashamed to mention—I bathed her and laid her on the bed, and when I awoke in the morning she was gone out of my place—I did not look at her face, but I know she had a blue mark on the Saturday morning—I did not say she was cut; she did not bleed in my place—she was fearfully swelled—I did not say she was cut about a good deal.

MARY MCDONALD . On this Sunday morning, between 2 and 3 o'clock, Mrs. McCarthy called for my assistance, and came to my door—I went down to her; she was bleeding from the lower part of her person, and was in a most fearful state—I found two or three awful wounds—I took her indoors, and sent for a policeman and the doctor—I stopped with the doctor while her wounds were dressed—she appeared to me to be sober.

GEORGE REED (Policeman B 236). I was called to York Buildings, Westmin-on Sunday morning, 25th August—in consequence of what I heard I went to the prisoner's house; I found him in a room, on the ground floor, lying on some empty sacks—there was a child there—the door was locked—I opened the shutters, and got in at the window—the prisoner's wife was out in the court, on her hands and knees, crying and bleeding; I helped to get her into the house—the prisoner was asleep—I asked him if he knew anything about his wife—he said "No"—I sent for a doctor, and waited outside the house when he came—I went back to the room where the prisoner had been—he was not there; I found him behind some sacks of sawdust, on the opposite side of the court—I took him into custody; he was quite sober—the woman appeared to be sober—she was removed to the hospital.

Cross-examined. It was 3.30 when I went to the prisoner's house; it

might have been 4.15—the prisoner said he did not know how his wife had hurt herself—he knew nothing about it.

PERCY LESLIE . I am a doctor of medicine, and also a surgeon—I was fetched to see Margaret McCarthy about 3.30 or 4 o'clock—I found her lying on a bed in York Buildings—I was given to understand that she had received some injury in her private parts—I found one side very much swollen, and the vagina presented all the appearance of a magnified black eye—it was also bleeding, and on opening up the parts in order to get a better view, I saw an incised wound, about an inch and a-half long, and as I did so there was a spurt of blood sprung from her, so I felt it my duty to stop the bleeding—I did not see any blood coming from anywhere else—I got some pieces of rag and put over the wound, and the natural movement of the parts stopped the bleeding—the surface was swollen about as big as my hand, and upon the swollen surface there was a wound—I found the plugging was sufficient to stop the bleeding—I advised her instant removal to the hospital—she was advanced in pregnancy; I should say about six months—I did not examine the other parts of her body.

Cross-examined. Supposing the woman was drunk, and fell upon some iron spikes protruding from the ground, it is possible that might cause a wound of that description.

Re-examined. My attention was not drawn to anything in the room.

JAMES EDWARD BARTON . I am house surgeon at Westminster Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there on Sunday morning, 25th August, about 1 o'clock; she was perfectly blanched, she had lost a great deal of blood—I ordered her into the ward immediately; she was in a state of collapse—there was a bruise all round under her chin, and her temples were bruised—I examined the vagina; it appeared as if there was a large tumour projecting between the labia; I sent for the consulting surgeon—I did not like to interfere without his advice, and when he came we put her under chloroform and examined the state of affairs, and he, in trying to pass his finger up, accidentally ruptured the tumour, it was composed of blood clots; he put his hand further up and found a wound at the side of the vagina—he could pass his hand right through the wound; one labia was very much swollen—the tumour was certainly not the result of natural causes, it was the result of injury—we thought at first the wound hid touched the peritoneum, and thought she would die in a couple of hours, and sent for a Magistrate immediately—I continued to attend her for some weeks—she vacillated between life and death for about three weeks—she was pregnant, and gone about six months—I have seen her here to-day, and consider she is in a fair way of recovery now, quite out of danger—I should imagine the wound was incised—I thought it was done by some pointed instrument; falling on the floor or on a broken dish would not cause such an injury; a kick would cause the tumour, but the wound could not have been caused by a kick.

GEORGE REED (re-called). I found a broken dish in the room—there was a tub with clay there for making clay chalk; I did not notice any spikes.

JAMES BICKERY (Policeman B 155). I was sent from Westminster hospital, at Mr. Woolrych's request, at 11.30 in the morning—I took the woman to the hospital about 9.30, and the man was in prison—the dish was mentioned in the woman's deposition, and Mr. Woolrych sent at once for the dish; I found it—I saw the tub there which they use for clay it

is used in the army for pipe-claying belts—there were no spikes sticking in it—they use two iron bars for beating the clay into a pulp, but they were not left in the tub; they were not there then—they are about three feet long, and an inch and a half thick; they are not pointed—I went actually for the dish, but I also examined the room—I must have seen the bars if they had been there.

JAMES EDWARD BARTON (Cross-examined by MR. MATTHEWS). I have heard of the bar the constable has described—it would be very improbable that that caused the wound, assuming it to be standing up—if the bar was in an upright position in the tub and the woman fell over the tub and on to the bar, it is possible it might have caused such a wound, but very improbable—it must have been caused by a pointed instrument; it need not have been sharply pointed—it is possible the leg of a chair might have caused it, if the chair was upside down—I think it is absolutely impossible it could have been caused by a bit of broken dish, from the position of the wound.

Re-examined. Even if a chair was upside down it would not have caused an incised wound similar to the one the woman had—the edges of the wound were pretty clean cut; we could only tell from feel, we could not see—the chair must have been pointed, not an ordinary chair; a sharp pointed piece of wood.


Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-696
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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696. JAMES THOMPSON (28), and JOHN SLACK (24) , Unlawfully attempting to commit an abominable offence.

MESSRS. HOLLINQS and SMITH conducted the Prosecution.

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment each.


Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-697
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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697. FREDERICK WILLIAM CHAPMAN (45) , Stealing on the 30th of May, 1861, an order for the payment of 440l. 4s. 8d. of the Greenwich Board of Works, his masters.

MESSRS. POLAND and COLLINS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SERJEANT SLEGH and MR. BESLEY the Defence,

EDWARD WOOLFORD JAMES . For many years I was clerk to the Greenwich District Board—I was so in 1861—the prisoner was then in my service as my principal clerk—he also worked and acted for the Greenwich District Board; that was his principal duty—I should say that he was recognised as my clerk by the Board—by a minute passed by the Board in 1856 he was recognised as my assistant—he principally devoted himself to the business of the Board, under my superintendence—in May, 1861, Mr. Samuel Hobbs was a contractor to the Board for the paving—he did the work—it was his duty to send in quarterly accounts to each parish for the work done—all those accounts were submitted to Mr. Smith, the surveyor, who certified that the work was done, and the usual practice was then to hand them to Mr. Chapman—they were then laid before a Parish Committee, that is a committee for the particular parish to which the work applied; they went through the accounts to see whether the work had been done according to the order of the Board, and after that they were handed to the finance Committee, whose duty it was to examine and audit the bills, and

initial them after they had gone through them—a report was then drawn up and submitted to the District Board at their next meeting—that report ought to contain a true account of the bills audited—it was then the prisoner's duty to draw cheques for the amount claimed in the report—a cheque was then drawn for the whole amount due to each particular person—there was the usual counterfoil to the cheques used in the office—after the cheques were drawn and signed by members of the Board, it was my duty to countersign them—it was my usual practice to see that the cheques agreed with the report—I seldom countersigned any cheque until I saw that it agreed with the report of the Board—the cheques were generally sent to me for signature, probably by the messenger, from Mr. Chapman—sometimes I signed them at the office—these four accounts (produced) dated May, 1861, are Mr. Hobbs' accounts—the account for the quarter ending Lady-day, 1861, for St. Nicholas, Deptford, is 6l. 0s. 10d—it is endorsed by Mr. Chapman, "St. N., D. General account Samuel Hobbs, paving account to Lady Day, 6l. 0s. 10d."—it appears to be signed by Mr. Smith, the surveyor, and by Thomas Watson and G. Reeve, two members of the Board—the next account is for St. Paul's, Deptford, 249l. 4s. 4d.,—it was originally 247l. 2s. 10d., but is corrected, and so endorsed by the prisoner—the next is for 3l. 3s., for breaking stones—that is subscribed in the same way, and endorsed by the prisoner—the next is the Greenwich account—that is endorsed by the prisoner, "General account, Greenwich. Samuel Hobbs, paving account to Lady Day, 1861, 183l. 16s. 6d."—it appears to have been audited, and is signed "Correct, J. N. Smith," and has the initials of two members of the Finance Committee—the addition to the first page is 39l. 16s. 3 3/4 d—that appears to be correct—the next page is 149l. 6s—that is not correctly added; there is a "I" placed before the 49l., and that is carried on from column to column, and the total is made 183l. 16s. 3 3/4 d—the correct addition would be 83l. 16s. 6 3/4 d.; 100l. is added—this is the report of the Finance Committee; the heading is "The Finance Committee report that they have examined and audited the following bills and accounts, and recommend the same for payment. Samuel Hobbs. Paving account for Greenwich, 183l. 16s. 6 3/4 d.; ditto, St. N., D., 6l. 0s. 10d.; ditto, St. P., D., 247l. 4s. 4d.; ditto for breaking stones, 3l. 3s.; total, 440l. 4s. 8d"—that is all in the prisoner's handwriting, and is signed by Mr. George Reeve, the chairman of the Finance Committee, dated 27th May, 1861, so that the Finance Committee apparently recommend that 440l. should be paid, when the correct addition would be 340l—the prisoner always drew the cheques—this is the cheque that was drawn for that account—it is dated 29th May, 1861, on the London and County Bank, Greenwich, for 440l. 4s. 8d., in favour of Samuel Hobbs, or bearer, signed Edward Routh, presiding chairman, John Wade, and Samuel Noble, and countersigned by me as clerk of the Board—after being signed by me it would be with the cheque-book and all the other cheques in Mr. Chapman's possession, to pay to the different tradesmen and persons for whom they were drawn—it would be his duty to enter the sums in the cash-book, and it is entered here in the cash-book, 440l. 4s. 8d., and also in the ledger, in the prisoner's handwriting, in precisely the same sums—in the books of the Local Board the sum is also carried on as 440l. instead of 340l—this matter was only discovered recently—I have looked through all the papers of the Board to see if I could find the counterfoil cheque-book of that year, and I have not been able to and it—I have found the pass-book for July, 1861, but I cannot

find the one for May, or the one before that—I have only looked for those two because they only applied to this particular transaction—I cannot find my entry of the 100l. being accounted for in any of the prisoner's books.

Cross-examined. In 1861 the prisoner was in my service, but recognised as my assistant by the District Board—he was paid by me—whatever he did as my clerk, the Board accepted as an act of my own—he was my own clerk, and had been so for a great many years—he was with me in 1856, when I was appointed Clerk to the Board—there was no written agreement when he entered my service—I was not then employed by the Board—I was Vestry Clerk of Greenwich parish, and he was my assistant, and he became my clerk afterwards, when I was appointed Clerk to the District Board—he was simply my clerk in my public capacity; he was not a clerk in my private office as a solicitor—I was not allowed anything for his salary; he was my clerk, paid out of my pocket, until '66, and he was appointed accountant by the Board in '66—the pass-book and counterfoil cheque-book for May, '61, are missing—between '61 and '66 they were kept in the clerk's office of the District Board; and from '66 to '72 they were in Mr. Chapman's custody in his own office, he having an office expressly appointed for him—I had no occasion daring '61 to '66 to make any inquiries about or to look at any of those books, they were always under Mr. Chapman's care—in '72 there was a messenger attached to the Board, named May—I recently applied to Mr. Chapman, by direction of the Board; for certain papers; in fact, for all the papers he had—I think be sent a key by May, but I don't recollect what key it was—we searched the strong room, or rather the chest, to find the books, but we could not find the pass-book of '61—I don't recollect that he sent me a letter stating that all the books and vouchers were in the depository, of "which he sent the key—he simply sent me a key and some papers—I was present when the search was made for books and papers—I have not got a list or inventory of the books and papers which were found—I know nothing of what books and papers were in existence in '66, because they were entirely under Mr. Chapman's care—I mean in the public office, where his duty was—in '66 he waft the accountant to the Board—there was no other accountant—previous to him, I had another clerk in the office named Mayer, and one named Nettleton—their duties were not similar to Mr. Chapman's; they were merely copying clerks—under the Act of Parliament we were bound to appoint three auditors every year—that was complied with—auditors were appointed up to '66—I am not aware that any of them are here—I simply compared the cheques which were drawn by Mr. Chapman with the report of the Finance Committee, and, having done so, I considered I had done all that was necessary—cheques were not signed by the Board, unless upon the report of the Finance Committee—it was only the duty of the Parish Committee to see that the items agreed with the orders which had been given; they did not check the items—I think Mr. Smith's duty was simply to see that the items agreed with the work that had been done, not to see that the castings were correct—this report of the Finance Committee is in Mr. Chapman's writing, and is signed by Mr. Reeve—he is dead—I am not aware that this came under my personal inspection previous to the cheque being drawn—I can't say that I looked at every item—it was not the usual course of business that I should look over these reports and compare them with the accounts—my duty was simply to read it at a meeting of the Board, which I did—the cheques had been previously drawn, and after the report was read the

Board agreed to sign the cheques so mentioned in the report—I think I first saw these accounts of Mr. Hobbs within the last three months; they would not come under my inspection in '61—they were in the clerk's office when investigation was made, in Mr. Chapman's office, the office of the Board—there are two distinct offices: my office, as Clerk of the Board, which is below stairs; and Mr. Chapman's, up two pair of stairs—they were found in my office, the clerk's, to which Mr. Chapman might have full access—there were hundreds and thousands of vouchers and papers there of a similar description—they were tied up in bundles relating to the particular years—these were found without any difficulty.

Re-examined. Any of the clerks would have access to these papers, and if they wished to destroy them after the accounts were once passed and audited they would remain for years without any one looking at them, no suspicion attaching to them—there was an audit in the regular way, Mr. Chapman being the person to prepare the accounts for the audit, and to attend the auditors—this is the balance-sheet prepared by him; that would carry on the same defalcation, so that the 100l. would not be accounted for—I had a certain salary, and had to provide a clerk to do the business of the Board—the prisoner was recognised by the Board by a special minute made in 1866—in 1861 it was practically his duty to act as accountant, prepare documents for them, submit them for signature, and attend the meetings—he did not attend to my private business at all, I have my own office at a different place altogether; he attended entirely to the business of the Board.

By MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH. The minute book contains a definition of the clerk's duties from 1856 to 1866—I have no recollection of these accounts of Mr. Hobbs being referred to shortly after May, 1861, in consequence of a complaint made by a Mr. Skinner, there are so many Skinners in Greenwich—I can't recollect that there was any complaint made—I know a Skinner living in Brand Street; I don't recollect his making a complaint to the Board about some work which Hobbs had done, and these accounts being referred to—this is the first time I have heard of it. (MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH read an entry in the minute book, dated 6th August, 1861, of a complaint by Skinner that an alteration made in the water channel in front of hit house was not effectual, which was referred to a committee.) I do not remember it now—I remember Skinner very well, he was a man who was always complaining of something; unfortunately it is a family failing of the Skinners.

JOHN NIDD SMITH . I am surveyor and engineer to the Greenwich Board of Works—I was the surveyor in 1861—it was my duty to examine the accounts of the work done on behalf of the Board—amongst others I examined the accounts of Mr. Hobbs for the quarter ending March, 1861—I should go through these four accounts to see that the work mentioned there was done—there are marks in the margin in pencil or ink, I can't say that they are my marks—at the end of each of the accounts I have written my name in red ink, and stated them to be correct—the work was done as specified here—the account for Greenwich parish 183l., would amount to 83l., according to the items—I cannot at this distance of time say whether I could have passed that by an oversight—sometimes I added up the amount—my business was only to see that the work was done and properly charged for; not to see that the total was right.

Cross-examined. I am not aware that I have said that with the exception

of seeing my signature on the Mr. Hobbs' account my mind was a perfect blank; I don't remember saying so before the Magistrate—(looking at his desposition)—this is my signature—it was suggested that my mind was a blank, and I said to a certain extent it might be so; but this is not what I said, it is not right—these accounts would be handed to me before being presented to the Finance Committee—sometimes they came to me before the Parish Committee, and sometimes afterwards, it would be my duty to compare the statement in the account with the work done; not to check the amounts, only the prices—I can't say whether these red ink ticks are mine—I can't say that when this account was before me the amount was only 83l., I won't say it was not 183l.; I say neither one thing or the other, I can't say what figures there were there—I can't say it is not in the game state now as it was then—Mr. Hobbs did a great deal of work for the Greenwich Board—it was not his practice to be late with his accounts; occasionally it was so.

HENRY MAJOR . I live at 87, Camden Place, South Street, Greenwich—in 1861 I was a member of the Finance Committee of the Greenwich Local Board—the initials "H. M." to this account of Mr. Hobbs are mine—it was my practice to add up the different amounts of each bill and then certify them as correct, the prisoner used to lay the accounts before us; he brought them folded up in this way and endorsed, a whole budget of them, perhaps amounting to several thousand pounds—I added up the particular accounts that came into my hands, initialed them, and gave them back to him; the other members did the same.

Cross-examined. I know I added up this, because of my initials—I might have said at the Police Court "I cannot at this distance of time say whether it was 83l. or 183l.;" but I should qualify that—I said "I might have put my initials to the account without casting it up, but that was not my practice; "I adhere to that now—the Finance Committee met once a quarter—when the quarterly bills were sent in, I think the bills invariably went to the surveyor first, and were checked by him as to the quantity of work and the prices charged—I can't say that they sometimes went to the surveyor after going through the Finance Committee; I should hardly like to say they did not—when Mr. Chapman was not there, Mr. James sometimes attended, and sometimes another clerk—Mr. Chapman generally attended; he might be occasionally unwell.

JOHN MAT . I was a member of the Finance Committee in May, 1861—I was present at the audit of accounts—these "J. M." are my initials to this account of 183l. 16s. 6d—I was present at the audit of that account—generally, when the Finance Committee met, the chairman and one besides used to cast the bills up; then they were handed to a third party, to put his initials; I happened to be one—of course at this distance of time I can't say whether I added up that particular account.

Cross-examined. When this was matter of inquiry, I took a note from Mr. James—I did not go to any drawer, or meddle with anything—I don't know what the contents of the note were.

WILLIAM REEVE . I am the son of the late Mr. George Reeve; he died on 14th September this year; this is his signature to this deposition—the initials to this bill of 183l. odd are his—(the deposition of George Reeve, taken on 30th July, was put in, and read as follows):—"I reside in Greenwich, and was chairman of the Finance Committee of the Greenwich District Board in May, 1861—audited the account produced of Mr. Hobbs; it is

signed by me—it now appears to be for 183l. 16s. 6 3/4 d—my practice was to cast up the various items; the figure I has been added in the second and subsequent columns since I audited it—there are initials "H. M." and "J. M." to the account—the defendant generally laid the accounts before the Finance Committee, and they would be endorsed afterwards—the Finance Committee's report produced is signed by me; I signed it, as a matter of course—the prisoner would make out that report—the bills were not before me when I signed that report." Cross-examined. "It was always my practice to cast up the figures before I signed them; I always went through them as chairman—I don't remember the messenger ever bringing the bills or reports for the Committee to sign—the endorsement on this bill was made after the account had been examined—I did not cast up the Deptford accounts, because they were certified as correct by the Deptford Committee—I don't see any mark 'correct' on the first bill—(the witness's attention was again drawn to the bill)—I now see the word "correct" is on it in faint ink—I cast up this particular bill; it was my custom on all occasions to do so, but I won't swear that I did it on this occasion, as it is so long ago." Re-examined. "I never remember passing a Greenwich account without casting it up.")

EDWARD ROUTH . I live at Shorter's Court, City—In May, 1861, I was chairman of the Board of Works of the Greenwich district—in the ordinary course, the report of the Finance Committee would be laid before the Board—the cheques were frequently drawn during the time business was going on; Mr. Chapman would draw them—I should not before signing a cheque see that it agreed with the finance report—if the finance report had been adopted, I should assume that the cheque had been drawn in accordance with it; I signed the cheque on the faith of the report—it would be signed by two other members, and the clerk would countersign it—I have no recollection of the particular transaction.

Cross-examined. During the many years I have known the prisoner he had the esteem and respect of all his friends and acquaintances; he had the very highest character—I always believed him to be of irreproachable character—in 1867 he was honorary secretary for a fund raised for the relief of the poor during a period of distress, and he discharged his duty very ably.

Re-examined. I think he was a good accountant; he was afterwards promoted to be accountant to the Board, and remained so until he resigned in the present year.

WILLIAM HOLDER HOATHER . I am now clerk in charge of the London and County Bank at High Wycombe; in 1861 I was clerk in the Greenwich branch of the London and County Bank—the treasurer of the bank kept an account there on behalf of the Board—it was my duty to pay cheques drawn by members of the Board, countersigned" by the clerk—I paid this cheque produced on 30th May, 1831; it is an open cheque, payable to bearer—I paid it over the counter in four 100l. notes, two of 20l., and 4s. 8d. in coin—the entry in this book is my writing—at this distance of time I can't say to whom I paid it—it was the first cheque paid on that day, and it would be consequently early in the morning.

Cross-examined. The bank opens at 9 o'clock—the numbers of the notes have been supplied to the prosecution from the bank—I did not give them.

Re-examined. I can give the numbers now—I believe the Bank of England keeps the notes for three years; that is only what I have heard persons say.

JOHN THOMAS EDWARDS . I am manager of the London and County Bank at Greenwich—I have been twenty-one years in the banking business—(MR. POLAND proposed asking this witness the practice of the Bank of England as to keeping notes, but upon objection taken, at the suggestion of the Court, it was not pressed).

JAMES SPENCER . I am a solicitor, at 14, South Street, Greenwich—I am the attorney conducting this prosecution—I ascertained from the bank looks the numbers of the notes that had been paid for this 440l. cheque—I went to the Bank of England and made enquiry with reference to those notes; a general statement was made to me—the notes were not produced, I could not get to see them—after what I heard at the bank I did not trouble myself to endeavour to trace them—I went there for the express purpose of tracing them.

SAMUEL HOBBS . I live at New Cross Road, and am a contractor—in 1861 I did work for the Board of Works of the Greenwich district—I did the work mentioned in these four accounts—I made out this account for the Greenwich parish myself—the work was done by my people at Lady Day in that year, this was the account for that quarter—I added it up myself—when I sent it in to the Board, it was an account for 83l. 16s. 6d.; that, with the other accounts, made a total of 340l. 4s. 8d. due to me—on the morning of 30th May I called at the clerk's office for payment of those accounts; I had a memorandum book with me, I have it here now—I saw the prisoner; it was a little after 12 o'clock when I went into the office—I said, " Mr. Chapman, I have called for my accounts for the quarter ending Lady Day"—he said, "I must trouble you to call again"—I said, "For why?"—he said, "I am sorry to say that I have made an error in drawing the cheque for your amount, 100l. in excess, call again in half-an-hour and I will get the cheque cashed and pay you in cash, and pay the excess over to the credit of the Board"—he begged me not to say anything to any member of the Board, it would make no difference, every one was liable to mistake—I did not see the accounts then—I went away and called again in half-an-hour, he then paid me 340l. in bank-notes, three 100l. and two 20l.—I put stamps on the bills and receipted them, all four—these are my signatures—before receipting them I looked at my memorandum-book to see whether the accounts agreed—this is my memorandum: "St. Paul, Deptford, account 247l. 4s. 4d., cartage account 3l. 3s., Greenwich account 83l. 16s. 6 3/4 d., St. Nicholas, Deptford, 6l. 0s. 10 1/2 d."—I am certain that the Greenwich account was 83l. when I receipted it—as soon as I received the notes and signed the receipts I went and paid them in to my credit at the London and County Bank at Greenwich, together with a little cheque of 13l. 18s.; the 4s. 8d. I put into my pocket—I have my pass-book here, and I am credited with that amount—I entered the payment in my memorandum-book as "Cash 340l. 4s. 8d."—I entered that at the time—the St. Paul, Deptford, account was 247l. 2s. 7d. when I sent it in; it is altered to 247l. 2s. 4d—I altered my book at the time to make it agree; the amount that I received was 340l. 4s. 8d—before this I had always been paid by cheque—Mr. Chapman paid me—I have been paid since by cheque—this was the only time I was paid in money—that account included all that was due to me up to Lady Day.

Cross-examined. I had this memorandum-book before the Magistrate, but it was not asked for—I said that I never mentioned this matter until three years after it occurred—I did not mention that the prisoner said "Pray don't mention it to anybody"—I am not aware, up to the present moment, whether he has or not paid the money back to the Board—I never had the cheque, and never saw it—I mentioned the matter before Mr. Chapman resigned his office—I mentioned it to several members of the Board—I mentioned it to Mr. Hensom—I can't exactly say the time—it was at the time Mr. Chapman kept his saddle-horse, and there was a rumour about his extravagance—that was three or four years ago—I did not build a house in Egerton Road, Greenwich, about 1865; I am no builder—I know Mr. Smith, a builder, who built a house for Mr. Chapman—I contracted to do the stonework for Mr. Smith for 20l. odd—there was no quarrel between me and Mr. Chapman—he guaranteed the payment, and after the work was done, and Mr. Smith went away, Mr. Chapman repudiated the payment of it, and I never got paid—I did not say that I would take care some day to serve him out—I have not been on bad terms with him—we have had little angry words when I wished him to pass my accounts at the Board, and I could not get them done without applying to the Chairman of the Board—I mean to say that I have failed to obtain my money through Mr. Chapman from the Board—I don't mean that I have not been paid after the accounts had passed the Finance Committee, but the difficulty was getting them before the Finance Committee—I heard this year that Mr. Chapman had resigned his office—I did not hear that his accounts were likely to be looked into—I never saw these accounts, after they were passed and I was paid, till I saw them at the Police Court, and then I had them in my hands—I did not borrow them from him afterwards—since they passed from my hands, previously to payment, I never saw them again till I was at the Police Court—I remember that there was a complaint made by Skinner, in August, '61, about some contract work—I am still positive that I never borrowed these accounts—there was a committee called out to view this little particular work, and they passed it there and then as satisfactory—I did not, pending that investigation, ask Mr. Chapman to lend me these accounts—this figure I at the bottom of the second page was not there when I handed in this account—the I at the top of the third page and at the end of the whole account have been put since—I believe the endorsement on the back is Mr. Chapman's writing; it is not in mine.

Q. When Mr. Chapman made the statement to you, as you say he 'did, in reference to the 100l. in excess, do you mean to say that he did not hand you the cheque, and you go yourself to the bank and get it cashed? A. I swear I never saw the cheque, and I solemnly swear I never had the cheque in my hand from that time to this—it was about 12.45, as near as I can guess, when I got the 340l—I went there first a little after 12, and I went again about half-an-hour afterwards, according to the appointment made—he did not show me that the cheque was for 100l. in excess—I never saw the cheque.

Re-examined. I say positively that I never had the accounts back after I handed them in to the Board—the cheques I received previous to this were open cheques, payable to bearer, until, I believe, the time of his being appointed accountant to the Board—that is some five or six years ago—after that they were made payable to order—up to that time they were open

cheques—sometimes they were crossed; in fact, I don't recollect ever receiving a cheque without being crossed.

A large number of witnesses deposed to the excellent character of the prisoner.

GUILTY There were other indictments against the prisoner— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-698
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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698. ROBERT ASHLEY (39) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Rose Smith, his wife Mary being alive— Eight Months' Imprisonment. And

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-699
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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699. JAMES JOLIFFE (32) , to feloniously marrying Charlotte Letton, his wife Emma being alive— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]


Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-700
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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700. JOHN EDWARD PEARSON (22) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Spencer, and stealing six handkerchiefs and other goods— Twelve Months' Imprisonment ,

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-701
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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701. JOHN ALLEN (45) , Feloniously wounding William Rogers Heritage with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. AUSTIN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM ROGERS HERITAGE . I live at 20, Pitt Street, Commercial Road, Peckham—on Sunday, 25th August, about 2.15, I was in the Crown and Sceptre public-house in the Commercial Road—the prisoner came in hawking some pencils—I declined to buy any, and told him to go and look for some work the same as we did—he made use of an expression to me about my wife—I attempted to put him out of the house—he struck at me and struck me in the jaw—I returned the blow and hit the door-post; and the blood from my finger splashed on his face—I am sure I did not hit him—then we had a scuffle; he left the house then—a man gave him 6d., I believe, to go away—about twenty minutes after that I was returning home I got close to my gate; I turned round and saw the prisoner about twenty or thirty yards from me—he came up and said "You b—I have got you by yourself, and I have come well prepared for you"—I asked him what he meant—he struck me with his fist, and there seemed a hard substance in his hand—we had a tussle together in the road; we fell; my wife came out, and I heard her say "My God, he is stabbed!"—we were both lying in the road at that time—I lost my senses, and I don't recollect any more till I was indoors—the blood was streaming down me from a place under my left arm—they washed me and put me to bed, and my wife sent for a doctor; I was laid up three weeks—I never knew the prisoner before—I am well enough now to go to light employment, but not to hard work—I was stabbed twice in the leg—I did not know that till they got me in bed.

Prisoner. Q. Did you strike me inside or out? A. Outside—I did not strike you inside—I tried to, but then we went out—I did not hit you twice, and knock you down as you went out—I stayed about half-an-hour after that—I left the public-house about 2.50—I did not make a rush at you—you were on the top of me—I was on the ground on my back—I was pulled out from underneath you.

MARY DAVEY . I am the wife of William Davey, and lodge at 30, Pitt Street—the prosecutor lives in the same house—on 25th August I heard

a scream outside—I went out and saw my landlady Mrs. Heritage, and Mr. Heritage down in the road, and the prisoner was on the top of them—I went to the right side of the prisoner to help Mrs. Heritage up and I saw a knife in the prisoner's hand—I tried to get it away but could not—with the help of a young man we got Mr. Heritage up and got him indoors—he was bleeding from his left side—I don't know what became of the prisoner, he went away after we got indoors.

SARAH HERITAGE , I am the prosecutor's wife—on Sunday, 25th August, I saw him struggling in the road with the prisoner—they were both lying on the ground side by side—I saw my husband's waistcoat fly open and blood flowing—we all three fell—I screamed to Mrs. Davey to come and hold the prisoner's wrist, there was a knife in his hand—I got my husband up, and got him in and shot the door—I remember no more—I was very much agitated.

Prisoner. Q. Had I the knife open? A. I did not see it open—I saw it over my left shoulder—it was a small knife—I did not say it was a large black-handled one—was underneath and had the weight of both of you.

Re-examined. I never knew the man or saw him before.

GEORGE PISTOCK . I am a surgeon at 11, Rye Lane, Peckham—on 25th I examined the prosecutor; he had three cuts, one in his left side and two on his thigh—it was a slight wound—his shirt was saturated with blood—the wound on the upper part of the thigh was the deepest one, and there was one on the lower part, just above the knee—they did not go near any artery—he went on well—there was no danger—this knife would have produced the wounds—I saw him on and off for about three weeks.

WILLIAM STEVENS (Detective Officer P), I took the prisoner into custody I told him the charge, and he denied it—when the prosecutor was brought be said "Yes, that is the man, and he deserved more than he got"—I found this knife on him.

CHARLES WILLIAM FELL . I live at 22, Pitt Street, and am a wine-cooper—on 25th August I heard a scream, and ran out of my bedroom into the front room, and looked out—I saw Heritage and the prisoner lying on the ground, and I heard Mrs. Davey call out "The man is using a knife; he will kill Mr. Heritage"—a young man next door helped to get Mr. Heritage, indoors—his wife came to the door, and said "He has been stabbed, "and asked for a doctor—the prisoner made off, and while going away he said "Put him to bed, for I have given him two or three b—good steel pills; he will want to be there a week or two"—he also said "I will lay wait for you, for I will do for you yet"—he ran away when she called for the doctor, and I saw him no more till the day he was apprehended.

Prisoner. Q. How long did I stop there? A. It might be about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I don't say that you ran, you made off.

Prisoner's Defence. The fact of the matter is I was standing in my own defence. I got rather hot at first. I never thought of using the knife; if I had one in my hand it might have been put in. I had no knife about me.

GUILTY Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-702
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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702. WILLIAM STEVENS (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 11 bottles and 4 quarts of brandy of Alfred Partridge his master— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-703
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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703. WILLIAM POLLOCK (41), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury, committed by him at the Surrey Sessions in his evidence as prosecutor on a charge of robbery in a home of ill-fame.

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

the Defence.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-704
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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704. WILLIAM MCDONALD (38) , Robbery on George Priestman, and stealing from his person a watch, a seal, and a key, his property.

MR. DOUGLAS conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE PRIESTMAN . I am a porter of 2, Great Suffolk Street, Borough—on 10th August I was in Blackman Street with my wife, between 10 and 11 o'clock p.m.—I saw the prisoner come up in a very hasty manner, and I received a blow on the left breast—I staggered, and pursued him some little way—I missed my chain and seals, worth 6l. or 7l., but knowing the neighbourhood I did not pursue him further—on the 26th I was called to the station to see nine or eleven men, and picked the prisoner out from them as the man who robbed me—I have no doubt he is the man—I have seen him before about the Mint.

Prisoner. Q. Did not somebody say "Is that him?" when you were in front of me? A. I did not hear it—I did not say that I knew you by your back because you were a man of the same make as myself—my wife has weak sight, and could not identify you.

JOHN MARSH (Detective Officer M). On 10th August I received from Priestman a description of the man who robbed him, and on 26th August I saw the prisoner in the Mint—I said "Bill, I want you for stealing a chain a week or a little move ago, in Blackman Street"—he said "I know-nothing about it"—I said "You will have to accompany me to the station"—I took him there, placed him with nine others, and Priestman picked him out—he was wearing a very low hat.

Prisoner. Q. Have not you had opportunities to take me if you wanted me? A. No, I have not seen you from that time till the Tuesday morning—I did not see you at the Alfred's Head before that, or I should have taken you.

Prisoner's Defence, On this night I was not in the Borough at all, I was playing at skittles at Mr. Weleh's. A young man was with me. I never saw the prosecutor till the day he came to recognise me. He might have seen me time out of time going down different parts of the Borough. As for robbing him, I never did such a thing in my life. I was told in Horsemonger Lane that the man who did rob him is doing some imprisonment. I am innocent as a child.


23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-705
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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705. HERBERT JUDGE (22) , Unlawfuly selling, uttering, and publishing certain lewd and obscene libels.

MESSRS BESLEY AND STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. CURRIE

the Defence.

GUILTY Two Years' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Baron Cleasby.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-706
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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706. THOMAS ALLEN (39) , Feloniously killing and slaying Richard White.

MESSRS. STRAIGHT AND DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.

EMMA IZANT . I live with my husband at 3, Market Street, Kennington Lane—on 19th August I was in Kennington Lane with my son by my first husband; his name was Richard White, and he was ten years old—he went out between 7 and 8 o'clock in the evening; he had a barrow with him—he turned from Market Street into Kennington Lane, and crossed to the left-hand side, going towards Kennington Cross—I was on the right side, on the pavement, and he was in the road, on the left side, pushing the barrow, with the handles in his hand—I saw a three-horse van close to the pavement, on the same side as my son, who was close to the behind horse of the van—there were two wheelers, and one in the shafts, and he was passing them; they were walking—I saw a Hansom's cab coming in an opposite direction very quickly towards town from Kennington Cross, close to my boy—there was a very wide space between the cab and the pavement; the cab was more towards the left than the right, and there was loads of room for the cab to pass—I heard several people halloa "Look out!"—the cab came very quickly, and overturned the barrow, with all my goods, and my boy was thrown under the waggon—I went to the hospital with him—I did not see the prisoner till the day of the inquest—I am sure the cry occured before my boy was struck.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate "I did not notice the cab before it was almost close to the barrow"—the barrow was not heavily laden; there was fried fish on it; the wheels are very small—the prisoner drove us to the hospital in his cab.

ROBERT BAKER . I am a traveller, and live at 27, Gilbert Road, Lower Kennington Lane—on 19th August I stopped at the Roebuck, Kennington Cross, and just as I started my horse I saw a cab in the middle of the road—there was a cab rank there, but no cab in it, and nothing to prevent the cabdriver from going on his own near side; there was plenty of room—I saw the boy with the barrow, and saw that if the cab did not turn out of the road a little it would touch the barrow—something made me turn round, and I saw the boy ten or twelve yards from me—I called out "Stop! cabman, don't you see the barrow?" loud enough for him to hear, but he made no answer—he drove past me very fast, and his off-wheel caught the front of the barrow and turned it quite round, and turned it under the van—there was plenty of room; ten or twelve yards, I should say, between the cart and the barrow—the boy was thrown under the van; it seemed to jam him up against the horses, and the wheel of the van injured him—it seemed to come up right against him, but it did not go over him, or it must have cut him in two—the prisoner kept going on; I called to him to stop, and he did so—I jumped down and said "You have done a very fine thing; you have killed this poor boy"—he said "Oh, it was not my fault; it was the fault of the van; I did not go near him"—I heard several people call out before he struck the barrow.

Cross-examined. He stopped his cab and took the boy to the hospital—there is a cab rank in the middle of the road, and vehicles go on each side in opposite directions—I don't know whether he heard me call out.

JOHN JAMES . I live at 19, Haines Street, Battersea Fields—I was the carman with the three-horse waggon on the day—I was coming from the City with about five tons of goods, and saw the boy with a barrow; he came out of Lower Kennington Lane—I said, "You get back you young rascal, do, "and he got back behind my van, which was going very slow, eighteen inches or two feet from the kerb—the boy came on my off-side, as I was

not going quite fast enough for him and passed my van, and the fore part of his barrow was between my leader and the off-side wheel horse—there was about a foot between the barrow and my horses—the barrow was on the off-side, and there was room for two vehicles to pass; there was my width and the barrow's width, and room for two more on the opposite side—when the barrow was run into there was room for him to pass if he had pulled the near side rein—when I saw the cab coming I sang out "Hold hard, you will catch that barrow"—I bellowed as hard as I could, and I should say that he could hear me—he was coming about eight miles an hour, and no sooner had I done halloaing than his off-wheel caught a notch in the barrow, and turned it right round, which very nearly turned the cab over, and as the barrow came over it threw the boy under my wheels—there was only two wheels to the barrow—the cab got about twenty yards beyond the van; some lad got hold of the horse's head and stopped him, and the cab came back and stopped—there was no vehicle on the offside between the barrow and the pavement.

JOHN PAGE (Policeman L 170). I was on duty at Kennington Cross, and saw a Hansom's cab driven by the prisoner at a middling pace—I heard some one halloa when the accident occurred, and saw the injured boy—I put him into the prisoner's cab, and he took him to the hospital—the prisoner said there was no blame attached to him; he pulled up directly he saw the South-Western man run into the boy's barrow.

Cross-examined. He was quite sober.

EDWARD SERGEANT. I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on 19th August Richard White was brought there in a state of collapse—there was a graze which looked as if the wheel had passed over the upper part of his thigh, and his pelvis was crushed and fractured—he died on the 26th.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTYRecommended to mercy by the JuryTwo Months' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.

23rd September 1872
Reference Numbert18720923-707
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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707. PETER PARKER (22), and PHILIP BOTT (18) , Robbery on Charles Peake, and stealing from his person a watch and chain and a locket, his property.

MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. W. SLEIGH defended Bott.

FREDERICK CHARLES PEAKE . I live at 27, Charles Street, Hatton Garden, and am a barman out of place—on 23rd September, at 10.30 a. m., I saw the prisoners together—I had seen them once or twice before—I stopped with them at a public-house till 12 o'clock, and then we went for a walk till 4 in the afternoon—we then went into a public-house and had some ale, and then to a coffee-shop and had some tea, all three together—we remained there about half-an-hour, and then went back to the Lion, where we remained about half-an-hour, and then went to the Pilgrim—we left there at 9 or 9.30—I had paid during the day as long as the money lasted—Bott said "We are getting into rough company; you had better take your watch and chain off, and put it in your coat pocket"—I did so, and put it in the inside breast pocket of my coat—we then went into the Boyson Road, where Bott gave me a push and pushed me on to Parker, who fell down on the

step—I fell on him, and Bott fell on me—Parker then put one handover my mouth, so that I could not call out, and with the other took my watch and chain, out of my pocket—I am sure it was Parker who took the watch, because I felt his hand go across my chest and into my pocket—they got up, and both ran down Red Lion Passage, and I followed them—I missed my watch and chain the moment they had gone—I lost sight of them, and gave information to the police—this is my watch (produced).

Cross-examined. I was not jolly—I knew what I was doing as well as I do now—we were all jolly and good-natured together until I lost my watch—we were not particularly sober—the shoving me down seemed to be intentional for the watch to be taken—we had been laughing and chaffing each other all day long—I am certain Parker took the watch—I heard him call out something, as they started off running—I saw him the next night before he was taken in custody—I saw Bott on Wednesday evening, but did not give him in custody in consequence of instructions from Ranger—I did not tell the Magistrate that the first time, but I did the second—I pointed Bott out to Ranger, and he said "Let him be till we can get the other one; we are always sure of him, but the other one will take his hook if we take this one"—I saw him a quarter of a mile from the place, I should think, standing in the open street, talking to some one—I was talking to Ranger this morning, just before I came in—he spoke to me about the case, but not about my evidence.

Re-examined. I kept asking Ranger when the case was coming on—he did not tell me what to say.

Parker. Did not you tell, the Inspector there was no violence except the push down? A. Yes, but I forgot the putting your hand round my mouth—we measured ourselves round the waist to see which was the biggest—I did not take my coat off, nor did I say when my arm was half out of the sleeve, "My watch will drop out."

THOMAS BERRY Detective Officer I received information, and on the morning of the 9th saw the two prisoners standing together outside the Crown and Anchor—I took Parker, and said "Peter, I want you for stealing a watch from the person"—Bott walked away—on the way to the station Parker said "I know all about it; phil has got the watch"—I said "Who, is phil?"—he said "He works at Mr. Layton's; the watch was given to him to mind by the young man"—on the road to the station a young man was passing, and he called to him "Go and tell phil to bring the watch down to the station"—I then took him to the station, and went to look after Bott, and when I returned at 12 o'clock in the day, Bott was at the station—he had come there and brought the watch—I told him I was engaged in the case, and was going to take him in custody for being concerned with Parker in stealing the watch—he said "Parker gave me the watch, and told me to take care of it, "and I think he said he thought the young man would come for it.

Cross-examined. The watch and chain were lying at the station when I went in.

GEORGE RANGER Detective Officer When the prisoners were in custody I went into a cell between them, and heard Parker say, "phil is Darkie here?"—(I wrote this down at the time)—Bott said "No"—Parker said "This is b——y hot for us;" Bott made no answer—Parker said "You must be a d——d fool to say I gave you the watch; what you ought to have said was that you saw the young man give me the watch to mind"—

Bott said "I did not think of it"—Parker said "The bloke is a hot un;" Bott said "Yes, he is"—Parker said "You will get a stretch and I shall get seven"—Bott said "Do you think so?"—Parker said "Yes"—going to the Police Court next morning Bott said "I have been led into this by Parker."

Cross-examined. I have never placed myself in a cell to listen before, but it is done occasionally—I did it on this occasion because I fancied I should hear something said between the prisoners.

Jury. Q. Did you really have pen and ink in your hand at the time of this conversation? A. Yes, the other officer, Berry, can prove it—I have been fifteen years in the service, and have had more rewards from Judges thin any other man in the Metropolitan Police.

Bott, Statement before the Magistrate was that he only pushed the prosecutor in a lark, and that parker asked him to take care of the watch, locket, and guard till next day.

Parker's Defence. If I stole the watch should not I sell it or pawn it? What interest should I have in giving it to him to keep? The policeman saw me on two occasions, but did not take me. We were all in liquor, and I told him to take care of the watch, and give it to the young man when he inquired for it If I had stolen a watch I would not say that a pal of mine had got it; I would rather suffer death.

Bott received a good character.



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