Old Bailey Proceedings.
15th September 1884
Reference Number: t18840915

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
15th September 1884
Reference Numberf18840915

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Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers to the Court,








Law Booksellers and Publishers.



On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, February 15th, 1884, and following days.

BEFORE the RIGHT HON. ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLEE, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir HENRY HAVKETS, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., M.P., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., and Sir HENBY EDMUND KNIGHT , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; HERBERT JAMESON WATERLOW , Esq., JAMES WHITEHEAD , Esq., and DAVID EVANS , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY, KNT, Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.

PHINEAS COWAN , Lieut.-Col.,








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


OLD COURT.—Monday, September 15th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-845
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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845. FLORENCE JULIA TILBUBY (15) was indicted for willful and corrupt perjury. (See Tenth Session, p. 477.)

MR. GRAIN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-846
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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846. WALTER BRADY (17) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for burglary.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-847
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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847. BENJAMIN WESTON was indicted and wilful and corrupt perjury, alleged to have been committed on the hearing of an action in the County Court before Samuel Prentice, Esq.

This was a voluntary prosecution, the Magistrate having dismissed the case. The Jury having partly heard the ease, found a verdict of


NEW COURT.—Monday, September 15th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-848
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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848. JOHN ROLFE** (26) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously uttering: counterfeit coin, after a con fiction of a like offence.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-849
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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849. GEORGE LANE** (42) to feloniously uttering counter-feit coin, after a conviction of a like offence.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-850
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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850. JOHN BARNES** (64) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-851
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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851. GEORGE SMITH (19) to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after a conviction of a like offence.— Two Years' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-852
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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852. FREDERICK BURROWS* (33) to unlawfully uttering counter-feit coin.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-853
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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853. CHARLES TAYLOR (19) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-854
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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854. HENRY WILLIAM LATHLEEN (21) to two indictments for stealing whilst employed in the Post-office letters containing money and stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five, Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-855
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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855. EMMA COUNTER (40) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.

ELIZABETH PRYOR . I am a barmaid at the Earl of Zetland, Notting Dale—on Saturday, 9th of August, about 9 p.m., I served the prisoner with twopenny worth of ginger brandy—she put down a shilling—I put it on the till and gave her the change—there was no other shilling there—she remained about a quarter of an hour, and asked Miss Green-shield for twopennyworth of whisky, and put down another shilling, which she took to my master—I then went to the till, took up the shilling I had put there, and gave it to my master, who showed it to the prisoner—this is it (produced)—he gave her in custody.

ELIZABETH GREENSHIELD . I am a barmaid at the Earl of Zetland—on 2nd August, about 9 p.m., I saw the prisoner in the bar with a little boy—she called for twopennyworth of whisky, which she gave to a man standing by her—he had been there all the evening—the shilling was bad, and I showed it to Mr. Bywater; this is it—Pryor then spoke to me, and I saw her show Mr. By water a bad shilling—he gave the prisoner in custody—the man stayed there.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When Mr. Bywater said that the shilling was bad you threw down fourpence, twopence for the whisky and twopence for the brandy—the shilling that I took was given back to you.

ALFRED BYWATER . I keep the Earl of Zetland—on 2nd August, about 9.10 p.m., I was in the bar, and Miss Greenshield handed me a bad shilling, which I took to the prisoner and said "Have you any more like these?"—she said she did not know what I meant—I said "It is a bad one"—Miss Pryor then brought this other bad shilling (produced)—I placed the first shilling on the counter, and the prisoner took it up, having first put two penny pieces on the counter to pay for the whisky—I only saw her put down twopence—I gave the other shilling to a constable at the station—I saw no boy or man there—I bent the second shilling in the tester; it bent easily and it was very light.

PATRICK DOHERTY (Policeman X 527). Mr. Bywater gave the prisoner into my custody with this shilling—she said "I am innocent"—going to the station she said "I make my living on the streets, and am liable to get a bad shilling as well as any other body"—the female searcher gave me four sixpences and 2 1/2 d.—I only saw one bad coin.

MARY BENNETT . I am female searcher at Notting Dale Station—I searched the prisoner and found on her four sixpences and 2 1/2 d. good money—she said she did not know the other money was bad—I found no bad money on her.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am examiner of coin to the Mint—this shilling is bad—a good coin will not bend easily in a tester.

Prisoner's Defence. I get my living in the streets selling umbrellas—when I went out on 2nd August I had no money at all.


OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 16th, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-856
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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856. HENRY PHILLIPS (33) , Feloniously accusing Leoncio Herran Y. Mosquera of an infamous crime, with intent to extort money. Other Counts for demanding money with menaces, &c.


LEONOIO HERRAN Y. MOSQUEBA . I live at 11, Powis Square, Bays-water—I am a private gentleman, married, and have been travelling in Europe with my wife about four months—on Saturday freeing, 2nd August, about half-past 8, I was in Hyde Park, in the neighbourhood of the Marble Arch—I had come into the park by the Marble Arch—while I was walking along a man accosted me—he asked me for a light for hit pipe—I gave him one—I then continued to walk on, talking with him, some hundred yards—I then sat down on the grass; the man sat down beside me—about a minute and a half after we were sitting on the graft the prisoner came up and said, "I am going to take you to the police-station for improper behaviour unless you give me some security"—I then saw with whom I had to deal—he was alone; the other man was sitting by my side—in order to gain time I said to the prisoner, "Come oat of the park, and I will settle with you"—the other man told him not to take me or him to the police-station, and he would give any guarantee, he would give all he had—the prisoner said he wanted the settlement there and then—he caught hold of my watch chain, and finding myself in a lonely spot I took from my purse, without taking it out of my pocket, 7s., and gave them to the prisoner—this occurred between the police-station and the reservoir, two or three minutes' walk from the Marble Arch—I don't know the park well—the moment I gave the money to the prisoner I saw a constable about 20 yards off, and I ran up to him and made a communication to him—the prisoner saw the constable before I did, and he and the other man ran away together—I and the constable ran after them—the other man got away; the constable caught the prisoner—I and the other man had not been seated on the grass above a minute or a minute and a half; I know the time, because them oment I sat down I rolled a cigarette, and had not time to light it—there is no truth in saying that I had conducted myself improperly in any way.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said at the police-court that I had 63l. about me—I did not mention it at the station because I was not asked—you said I had exposed myself—I got up a few moments afterwards, and you caught hold of my chain, and then I gave you the 7s.—I have no recollection of having stated before the Magistrate that I had walked 500 yards with the strange man—I wanted to get you out of the park to be in sight of a constable—I was not smoking at the time you came up, I had not had time to roll a cigarette—I was within 20 yards of the road; it was not a secluded spot, but I afterwards found that the park was a rendezvous of you gentlemen—when I gave you the 7s. you did not say that was not what you wanted—when I got up from the grass I did not begin adjusting my dress—I was at the police-station four or five minutes.

HUGH O'REILLY (Policeman A 257). On Saturday night, 2nd August, a few minutes past 10 o'clock, I was on duty in Hyde Park, coining off duty, midway between the reservoir and the police-station in the park—I saw three men having an altercation; they stood on the grass, the prisoner, prosecutor, and the man that escaped; they were about 100 yards from me—the prosecutor came up and complained of 7s. being taken—I saw the other two men running away in the direction of the Marble Arch; I ran after them; they were then about 300 yards from me—I got up to about 20 yards of them, when one of them said, "Here

he comes, separate"—they then separated; one went towards the Marble Arch, and the prisoner towards the top end of the reservoir—I ran after him and caught him—I said, "How is this?"—he made no reply—I took him back to the prosecutor, who had come after me—I said, "Is thin the man?"—he said, "That is the man that took my 7s."—the prisoner said, "You gave it to me"—the prosecutor said, "Yes, as you threatened to take me to the police-station"—the prisoner made no reply to that—I took him to the station; the prosecutor went with me—at the station the prisoner was charged—he gave his name as Henry Phillips—I asked his address—he said, "I shall hold that from you"—I searched him and found 15s. in silver and 5 1/2 d. in bronze, two pocket-knives, and a latchkey—he took 7s. out of his pocket before I searched him and said, "There is your money, take it back, I don't want it"—he also said that the prosecutor had his trousers undone at the time.

Cross-examined. You ran about 100 yards before I caught you—the inspector at the station heard what you had to say—you got weak and had a chair—the inspector did not say that you could say what you had to say in the morning—I was only a few yards from you when you said, "Look out, here he comes, separate'—you did not call out to the other man to stop.

The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defines repeated his assertion that the prosecutor was conducting himself improperly, and that the money was given to him without any threat or demand on kit part.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at this Court on 22nd October, 1877, and other convictions in different names were proved against him.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-857
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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857. JOHN WRIGHT (38) and WILLIAM WHEATLEY (25) PLEADED GUILTY to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of David Elsbach, and stealing six bags and other articles.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-858
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

858. JAMES WRIGHT and WILLIAM WHEATLEY were again indicted for feloniously wounding David Garner, with intent to murder. Second Count, to prevent their lawful apprehension and detainer. Third Count, to do grievous bodily harm.


DAVID GARNER (Policeman O 429). On Friday morning, 18th August, about a Quarter past 5 o'clock, I was in Church Street, Islington, near Trinity Church—I was in uniform—I went into a gate by the Vicarage, towards the churchyard—when I was half way across the churchyard I saw the two prisoners standing in a recess, and I saw some property lying at their feet—they were in the schoolyard—I got over some railings—I then saw that Wright had a revolver in his hand—I believe I had seen Wright before—Wheatley was standing close by Wright, when I saw Wright, with the revolver in his hand, touching each other—Wright advanced about four yards from me, holding the revolver pointed towards me—I did not see Wheatley with anything in his hand—I got hold of Wheatley, and I then said to Wright, "I know you"—I had a struggle with Wheatley, and in the struggle I saw that he had a revolver in had this is hand—this is it—Wright had this polished one (produced) I wrenched the revolver from Wheatley, and Wright immediately climbed

over the railings into Church Street—I had still got hold of Wheatley—when Wright was in Church Street he fired through the railings at me, but missed me—I saw him present the revolver at me—I could not see particularly how the barrel was poited—he was about 12 or 15 yards off when he fired—I and Wheatley still continued struggling, Wheatley endeavouring to get his revolver from me, and he got hold of it—Wright was still waiting outside, and after that he fired another shot, and it went through my thigh—I saw him fire it—I had got Wheatley's revolver before the second shot—after that I pointed the revolver at Wright and palled the trigger, but it did not go off—I don't know whether it was loaded—Wright was about 15 yards off when he fired and hit me—a man named Price and Inspector Maynard then came up, and Wheatley was secured—I gave Wheatley's revolver to a constable named Langdon—I bled very much, and was taken to the hospital—I was there 27 days—the bullet passed right through my thigh, and came out at the back.

Cross-examined by Wright. When I first saw you you were about fix yards from me—I don't remember that you said anything to me—I got over the railings—I don't remember your saying anything to me when I got over the railings—I did not say at the police-court that you threat-ened me, but you pointed the revolver at me—I don't remember your challenging me—from the gate to the railings where you got out was not more than about 12 yards—it is about 12 yards from the buttock to the place where I first saw you—you stood at one place, and you made your escape as soon as I got hold of Wheatley's revolver, and got out—I seized Wheatley directly I got over—when you fired the first shot I was about 12 yards from the railing—I was not struggling with Wheatley more than a minute before I got his revolver—I should think I had it about three minutes before you fired the second shot—I pointed the revolver at you and tried to fire it at some part of your body, not particularly your head—I had not the chance to point as I might have done if I had not been struggling with Wheatley—I tried to shoot you with it—you were about 15 yards from me when you fired the second shot—I pointed the revolver to shoot at you alter the second shot—I had the revolver about three minutes before you fired the second shot, and I admit I tried to shoot you with it—when you fired the second shot it took an effect—I called in the name of the Queen for somebody to come and assist me—there were two persons outside—I did not call on anybody to assist me till after you had fired the second shot—you could have hit me on the head or shoulders, or lower down on the thigh, if you had taken time, but I don't think you studied that.

Cross-examined by Wheatley. You did not use any violence towards me, not more than to escape when I caught hold of you—you did not attempt I to shoot me, because you had not the opportunity; had you, you might of Have done it—you had hold of the handle and I had the barrel—I was not struggling with you more than a minute before I wrenched the revolver away from you—you could not have pulled the trigger a dozen times, because you had not got it out before—I was not struggling with you with the revolver in your hand, it was in your belt or pouch—I did not see you bring it out—I don't know where you got it From, I could see it in your hand—I don't know whether it was in your hand while I was struggling with you—as soon as I saw it I took hold of it—you did not attempt to injure me.

By the COURT. When Wright was firing at me there was nothing at all to prevent his escaping and running away if he had wished.

HENRY PRICE . I live at 18. Wenlock Street, and am a manufacturer of fruit preservatives—on 18th July, shortly after 5 o'clock in the morning I heard cries coming from the school at the back of my house—I went into Church Street—I heard a report of firearms—I went to the Tallinn of the school; there mw Wright with a revolver in his hand, taking aim at an object inside the school railings; he did not tire—this was after the shots had been fired—he turned round and stepped into the gutter, and presented the pistol at me; he advanced towards me a few paces, and I stepped back—Wright then went off down Herbert Street—I then heard Garner say, "Come over here quick and help me, I am shot"—I got over, and saw Garner still struggling with Wheatley for the possession of the revolver, and I took Wheatley by the throat and forced him against the wall—a fireman and Inspector Maynard came up—I had got Wheatley on the ground before they came—I attended to Garner—I cut his trousers open, and found he was wounded in the left thigh—I stopped the bleeding with a handkerchief, but I found it was not log enough, and I then used my thumbs, when a doctor came, and I handed the case to him.

Cross-examined by Wright. I only heard one shot; that was a few minutes after 5 o'clock—I was out of doors in Wenlock Street, which runs parallel with the church—I was coming from my residence two doors off, towards Church Street—I saw you there; I saw no one else there, only Mr. Thomas on the wall opposite—I saw no other man on your left-hand side; I did not see the policeman or anybody else then—I did not see you fire the shot, I heard it fired—I could not tell whether it was a pistol shot or a gun shot—when I came up to the railings Gamer called out, 'Come over quick, help me, I am shot"—you turned round immediately you saw me—I had time to get from the corner of the street to the opposite side, halfway between where you were standing and the public-house—I did not come to the railings at first, you kept me back—I did not hear you say anything; your lips moved, you muttered something, I did not hear what it was—as near as I could guess I should say you were about 15 or 17 yards away from me then—I saw no one else but you in the street.

GEORGE LANGDON (Policeman G 339). I was in Church Street on Friday morning, 18th July, about a quarter past 5—when I got up there I found Wheatley in charge of Inspector Maynard—I found Garner inside the railings—he gave me this revolver, which I took to the station and gave to the inspector—it was loaded in six chambers, none had been fired off—I also found inside the railings the fur bags and a hat and coat—these things have been identified by Mr. Elsback; they are here.

THOMAS MAYNARD (Police Inspector G). I live at 50, Herbert Street—I on this Friday morning I hear»l some shots fired and some persons running—I afterwards went to the school yard—I saw Wheatley inside, and Garner and Thomas—I found that Garner had been shot, and was bleeding—Wheatley was being held by Garner and two others; he was in custody then—while he was on the ground I took from his pocket I these opera glasses (produced)—they have been shown to Mr. Elsback—I at the station I found on Wheay a pencil-case, 13 farthings, a knife, I and some matches—he was wearing this leather belt (produced)—at the

station Langdon brought this revolver—I found it was loaded in six hambers with ball cartridges.

Cross-examined by Wright. I first heard the firing about a quarter past 5—I could not tell the difference between a pistol shot and a gun shot—I heard four shots fired—it was about the space of a minute between the first and second shots—when I got up to the railings I saw several persons there, but I did not see anything of you—when I first saw your revolver at the station the chambers were out; I could not say where they were found; I did not examine them; I don't know who mended it—I believe the chambers were found by one of the constables who had been on the roof—I did not see them brought in—I was not there when your revolver was taken from you—I was at the station when you were brought in—I saw a portion of your revolver when it was brought in, but I did not examine it—I did not tell the Magistrate at Worship Street who repaired the revolver—I could not tell by looking at the chambers whether there were four, two, and three shots tired—I do not know when you fire that it leaves a black mark behind it, I have never used one—I do not think that jour revolver has been cleaned since or repaired—I was in bed when I heard the first shot fired—I am sure I heard four shots—the fourth shot sounded on the right of my house where I am living, which would be towards Herbert Street—I do not know what the fourth shot was fired at.

Cross-examined by Wheatley. You did not attempt to offer any resistance or violence.

MICHAEL WALSH (Police Sergeant G 9). On the morning of 18th July, about 6 o'clock, I went on to the roof of a house in Nile Street—I saw the prisoner Wright there; he had this bright revolver in his right hand and this jemmy in his left hand—there were other constables there, and I pinned him from behind by both arms—he was wearing these false whiskers at the time, and he had an open knife in his waistcoat pocket and two ball cartridges which fitted his revolver—I also found this belt on him (produced) round his waist, and there is a place with a chisel in it and an awl and a screwdriver—I did notice when I came to look at the revolver that the chambers were not in it—these were afterwards found and brought to the station by Constable Byles.

Cross-examined by Wright. I first saw you on the roof of the house in Nile Street—you were on there while I was there about a quarter of an hour there were about a dozen persons there, I can't say, possibly about a dozen—I saw there a man with a rifle, a volunteer or something; I did not see him attempt to use it—I did not hear any person shout out, "Shoot him"—I saw you challenge somebody on the roof coming near you—I saw you challenge two constables—when you challenged them they were on the roof in front of you—I did not see any shots fired—when I captured you you had got from a higher roof on to a lower one, and you were pointing your revolver at two constables in front of you—they stood away—there might have been a dozen people on the roof surrounding you—I saw a ritleman there—some of the people struck you, I am unable to say who they were—I did not see the rifleman strike you with the butt end of his rifle—I did not see an iron bar used to split your head—I had hold of you.

HENRY PARKER (Police Inspector). On 18th July, about 5 o'clock in the morning, I met Constable Clifford in Nile Street—I saw Wright on

the top of a house, with a revolver in his right hand and a jemmy in his left, and be pointed his revolver at me and said "If you approach another foot I will do for you"—he pulled out some cartridges and held them up and said "You see I have got some left yet"—the revolver, and jemmy, and false whiskers were handed to me—I examined Mr. Elsback's premises, and found they had been broken open.

Cross-examined by Wright. I am Inspector of the Kingsland Road Station it was shortly after 5 o'clock when my attention was first attracted by the noise on the roof—I saw you up there—there were with me about 50 more policemen surrounding the whole block of buildings—I saw you captured—I did not see them use any more violence towards you than was necessary—you could not show any violence after you were seized, because they were quick on you, but you tried to get your hands free so as to be able to use your revolver, which you had in yourhand—I saw a rifleman strike you with the butt of a rifle, and I saw somebody strike you with a bar of iron—your head was cut—I did not see how it was done—your forehead was cut—I was at the station when you were taken there, and I saw your revolver produced, and examined it, and found the chambers were out—I afterwards saw the chambers brought to the station and I examined them—I could tell the difference between a clean barrel and a bright one—the revolver had evidently been used—I heard no firing—I mended your revolver—I have used rifles, and understand a little about them—I don't think you could have shot the policeman at that distance—you was about 20 yards away from him—I saw you challenge several policemen and tell them to keep away—it would be very doubtful at that distance to shoot them—we were driving you up in a corner—the houses run right round the school yard, and there is corner, where we ultimately drove and captured you.

Cross-examined by Wheatly. I did not hear you say anything to me about your revolver when I spoke to you at the station-house—I did not hear you say that it was useless—I have no recollection that you told me when and where it was purchased.

By the COURT. I have tried Wheatley'e revolver, and find it goes off all right; I have not fired a shot out of it, but I have no doubt I could in the yard here; it looks to me a very perfect revolver—the inspector drew the charges when Wright was brought to the station—there were no cases in it, and I could not tell whether it had been recently fired or not.

DAVID ELSBACK . I am a furrier, at 36, New North Road—on Thursday night, 17th July, I went to bed about half-past 10—the house was all safe then, all the windows and doors were shut-at a quarter to 4 o'clock in the morning I came down and found one of my wifes dress* on the first-floor landing—I found the front and back doors open—an entry had been made by the window in the bath-room and conservatory—I missed the opera-glasses, fur bags, overcoat, and other things produced, which were tale the night before—an attempt had been made to get into the cupboard where the plate was.

CHARLES TOLLER . I am house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on 18th July, about a quarter to 6 o'clock, I saw Garner there he was suffering from a gunshot wound in the fleshy part of the left thing—he was in the hospital about a month—I also saw Constable Snell, he was

shot in the stomach—Garner's wound was not a dangerous one, it was in a dangerous neighbourhood.

The Prisoner's Statements before the Magistrate were read as follows.

Wright said: "I am the man that's done this. I carry the revolver not to frighten but to fight them. I first got over the wall, and then into the yard and tried the door, which I found was secured. I tried to force it, but found it would make too much noise to do it. I got up again on the roof of the shed in the yard. I threw the catch off the back-parlour window and opened it. I searched it thoroughly, and took what I thought was worth taking out of it. I found I could get no further, as it would make too much noise. I managed to climb up to the bath-room window. I came downstairs and opened the back yard door. I then retained to the parlour, back and front. I got a few sealskin bags together, and put them outside on packing-cases. I was opening the plate cupboard when I heard some one coming downstairs. I then went out of the place quiet. I walked up to the churchyard. I should think it was about 3.15. I got over there and sat down. I was there about two hours, when I heard a gate open the other side and footsteps coming up the pothway. I see it was a constable that came towards the railings, which parted both me and him. Prisoner Wheatley was then on my right-hand side. As soon as the constable came I challenged him; I bid him keep away or I would send a bullet through him. I was the nearest to the constable. He got up on the railings to get over, when I walked from where I was to the gate to gel over. I did not lake notice at the time of this man (Wheatley) where he was. I let the constable get over the railings, and I told him if he didn't keep silence, or moved another toot, I'd shoot him. I backed to the railings about four yards; I put my foot in the middle, and I was up on the top, when I heard a rush. I jumped over quickly and turned round; I see the constable about a yard off at the other end. This man (Wheatley) at the time was getting over the railings, when I see him catch hold of Wheatley. I then came a foot near the railings. I see Wheatley turn round; he had no revolver in his hand. I was going to get over, but a man came up who the constable Garner called on, in the name of the Queen, to assist him. I bid him stand away or I'd send a bullet through him. About three minutes the constable and Wheatley was struggling together. I fired a bullet at the constable's right shoulder about Id yards away. Another man on the right-hand side was there who was called to assist the constable. I told him to keep away or I'd shoot him. I felt some one throwing some things at the back of me, when I stepped across the road and told him if be didn't come down I'd send a bullet through him. I came back again and stood in the gutter, so as I should have both the men in front of me. Constable Garner called several times to assist him id the name of the Queen. I told him if they attempted to get over the rails I'd shoot 'in. I then see Wheatley draw his revolrer; as noon as he did the constable catched hold of him; it seemed to be a very easy matter to get it away too. He pointed it at my head; I moved about from side to side as quick as I could, so that he could not get an aim at me. About two minutes after he had the revolver his body was swung a little on one side, when I pointed my revolver and fired at him where I thought I could drop him; I fired at the lower part of him. I then turned round and saw I was pursued in all directions, and see it was

useless to fight any more for this man (Wheatley), so thought I'd have a try for my own liberty. I ran about 20 yards down a street opposite me, and walked about 10. I was in the middle of about eight men and two constables, who was running up the stroet, when a man from the window on the other side shouted out, 'That's one of 'em, catch him hold.' I challenged one constable, and told him to keep away or I'd send a bullet through him, when the other one came rushing up at my left side with his stick drawn; I turned round and fired. I then made off for my liberty. I ran down a court where I thought I could get over some yards, and I found it was blocked up. There was a pair of steps there; I ran up these steps and jumped on to a low house; from there I got on to two more higher still. I knocked out my three empty cartridge cases and put three full ones in. I fired but three shots in all. I made my way round to see if I could get away round East Road way, when a man came up about 6 foot; I was about 35 yards away. Told him if he didn't go back I'd shoot him. He asked me if I had shot anybody. I walked up towards him about 20 yards; I said, 'No, if you don't get down I'll b——y well shoot you.' He said, 'All right, and away he went. I then made towards Britannia Street towards the yard. I found I could not get the way I wanted to go, so I come back again. Several policemen were up there, and two or three civilians and a rifleman; they were calling out to the rifleman, 'Shoot him.' I got behind some stacks of chimneys about 40 yards away, and worked my way up towards him; when I got near enough to take an aim at him he ran away. Several more constables were there: I told them if they'd come a foot nearer I'd send a bullet through them. I was holding on to the chimney-pots at the time. I made my way towards Nile Street When I came back again I found they were there. I challenged several, and told them if they didn't go down I'd shoot 'em. When I cleared the roof of them I made my way towards the timber-yard down the East Road. When I was crossing by the timber-yard a little boy shouted out, 'There he goes,' which caused all the mob to come the way I was going. I then came back again, and tried to make my way back to Nile Street backways. While I was jumping from a high house on to a low one my left foot went through the roof; the chamber of my revolver hit on the ridge of the roof, and the chambers bounced right out, I am sorry to say. I tried to put it together again, but found I couldn't. When I got back again the constables and several others got on the roofs again. I pointed my revolver, and bid them stand away or I'd shoot them. They began throwing stones and bricks at me in all directions. I had plenty of the same sort, so I let them go as quick as I could pick them up. I was on the roof for half an hour after my revolver had broken. I was aiming tiles and bricks at them. I challenged several of the constables and the rifleman to keep away or I'd send a bullet through them. When the rifleman got too near I hit him in the chest with a brick. I was getting from a high house to a low one, and I shlipped a bit. I was surrounded in all directions, when two or three made a rush at me. I had no weapon to defend myself with, when a mob of them. I had hold of me and split my head with the butt part of a rifle. I was kicked and fairly slaughtered. I might have shot more. I was fighting for my liberty; if they had not come near me I should not have shot them."

Wheatley said: "I reserve my defence."

Wright, in his defence, repeated the substance of the above statement; alleging that fired in self-defence, without any intention of killing the policeman, and only in order to effect his escape.

Wheatley's Defence. I had not the slightest intention of using any I violence. I had the revolver with me, but it was useless. I simply intended to intimidate, not to hurt any one. Garner says I did not intend to I strike him, or use any violence, though I was capable of doing so if I wished. When I was taken to the station I told the inspector that my revolver was useless. He took it down, and read it to me. He now says I did not tell him anything of the kind. I swear I did say to, and I told him where it was purchased.

HENRY PARKER (Re-examined). I did not write down anything that Wheatley said—I wrote down some marks about his body—I have not got it here; it is at the station—I wrote down nothing about the revolver—he did not say his revolver was useless, nothing of the sort, nor that he only had it to frighten—he did not say so to me or in my presence.

By Wheatley. I asked you where the burglary was committed—you said somewhere in the road—I am quite sure I did not ask you where you got the revolver—all I read out to you was from the charge-sheet.

WRIGHT— GUILTY on First Count.

WHEATLEY— GUILTY on Second Count.

They were further charged with having been before convicted of felony, Wright at Westminster Sessions on 17th June, 1878, and Wheatly at Clerkenwell session on 22nd March, 1880, to which they

PLEADED GUILTY. Other conviction were also proved against Wright.

WEIGHT.— Penal Servitude for life. WHEATLEY.— Twenty Years' penal Servitude.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 16th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-859
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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859. ALFRED MUNCH (23) PLEADED GUILTY to inflicting grievous bodily harm on Sarah Warwick.— Four Months' hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-860
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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860. JOSEPH PHILIP BARGE (35) to publishing a defamatory libel on Ernest Lewis.— To enter into recognisances to keep the peace for 12 months, and to appear for judgment if called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-861
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
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861. JOHN MARTIN (31) to stealing 5s. 5 1/2 d. in the dwelling-house of Virgilio Gindotti, and then breaking out, having been convicted at this Court in April, 1883, in the name of Thomas kish—. Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-862
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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862. MANASSEH BIGNAL (19) to forging and uttering a banker's cheque for the payment of 70l., with intent to defraud.— Three Months' hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-863
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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863. REBECCA HUBBARD to attempting to kill and murder herself.— Six Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-864
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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864. GEORGE RICHARD COLVER (26) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Philip Saffan, and stealing a timepiece and table-cover.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-865
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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865. JAMES SMITH to stealing from a barge on the River Lea a clock, cup, six pounds of bacon, and other articles.— Six Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-866
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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866. JOHN WILLIAMS (24) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Rhoda Thomas, and stealing a purse and other articles, also to a previous conviction of felony at this Court in January, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-867
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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867. JOHN OXLEY (31) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Renford Davy, and stealing therein for capes and trimmings, hit property.

MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.

EMMA TOMLIN . I am single, and live at 5, Haberdasher Square, Cripple-gate—on 23rd August, about 11 p.m., I was going into a shop, and saw a man fall down—he lay there several minutes, and then crawled out of the court to the first doorway, and I asked him if he would have a drink of water—I spoke to a policeman—I don't know whether the prisoner it the man.

GEORGE ALDER (City Policeman 169). On Saturday night, 23rd August, about 11 o'clock, I was in Milton Street, and saw the prisoner crawling along on his hands and knees—thinking he was intoxicated, I asked him whether I should assist him—he said "Don't do that, for I have been assaulted by two men"—I said "Where?"—he said "In that court," pointing to Sun Court—he had no boots on—I said "Where are your boots?"—he said "They have taken them and some money"—I took him to St. Bartholo-mew's Hospital on a stretcher, where it was found that both his ankles were broken—I searched him there, and found this knife, a piece of candle, and some matches.

WILLIAM FLOAT (City Police Inspector). I was called to Milton Street, and saw the prisoner lying on the footway in Alder's charge—he had no boots on, and he appeared injured—I sent him to the hospital on I stretcher, and, in company with Sergeant Byron and East and Egan, I examined the premises, and found all correct—from there we went to Crown Court, and at the back of 86, Milton Street is an iron gate, under which I found the pair of men's boots (produced) which the prisoner owned when before the Magistrate—inside the gate, but outside the ware-house, we found three empty bags and two aprons, one of which contained 38 pieces of black fur, which had evidently been thrown down from the roof—I then went to 80, Milton Street, opposite, up to the roof, and over the roof of several warehouses till we came to the roof of No. 75, which is the prosecutor's, and found that the trap-door had been pulled up, and the rope securing it broken—inside the trap-door on the beam were several finger marks, and the clear impression in the dust of a man's foot, without a boot; there were the impression of the toes—we found some workmen's aprons torn up, and tied together to form a rope to pull the fur from the warehouse to the roof—we entered the warehouse, and found a large quantity of fur similar to what we have in Court—the door leading; to the street was locked—we returned to the roof, made a further search, and on the top of 86, Milton Street, which overlooks the recess, we found a sack containing 80 dozen of unfinished black fur capes and 15 pieces of long black fur trimming, 30 yards—I found several marks on the water-pipe in Sun Court, down the brickwork 20 and 25 feet from the ground—that is the water-pipe which the prisoner fell from.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No doubt you gained access to the roof by climbing up the water-pipe in Sun Court, and came down the other pipe, which you could not grasp properly, and fell down.

WILLIAM BROWN (City Policeman 62). I searched the premises with the inspector, and found a jemmy on the roof of No. 85—I saw marks on a water-pipe, as if a person had climbed up it—when charged at

station he made no reply—the boots were found about a yard and a half from the furs.

HENRY GEORGE BOWEN . I am manager to Mr. Davey, a furrier—on 23rd August, in the afternoon, I was in the upper part of the premises; they were securely fastened—the trap-door was tied, and the rope was whole, but when I saw it afterwards I believe it was broken—I identify these goods as my employer's; they were safe on this Saturday.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing of the charge what I am here for now, but I went with the intention of committing one, and met with my accident before I succeeded in getting on to the roof. I took my boots tied round my neck, and left them in Sun Court. It appears that this robbery was being committed, and I disturbed him."


He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Clerken well in January, 1875.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour after the expiration if his former sentence.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-868
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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868. FREDERICK CARVER (47) , Unlawfully obtaining goods by false pretences with intent to defraud.

MR. MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS. WARBURTON and LOWS Defended.

FRANCIS MARR ALLEN . I am one of the firm of A. and R. Scott, of Glasgow—we deal in oatmeal biscuits and oat-flour—in December last we advertised in the Times for an agent in London, and received this answer, signed "F. Carver." (Offering himself for the appointment.) I ultimately saw the prisoner, who referred me to Benjamin Dormer, of Plymouth—I wrote to Mr. Dormer, and received this letter. (starting that Mr. Dormer had gone to reside in Devonshire and changed his address.)—I then wrote to Mr. Dormer, and received this reply: "Jan. 30th. Mr. Carver represented our firm eight years; lie is a man of integrity."—I then consented, and among other orders which I received from the prisoner was one from Mr. Corbyn, of Wetge Road, Hammersmith, for six cases, at Km. 81., subject to discount—I dispatched the goods by the Caroline steamship, on 20th February, and in March we received this second order for six 10 lb. tins, value 4l. 15s.—we dispatched them by the Tay, and in April received an intimation from the prisoner that he had supplied other goods from stock in London in his custody, and another order in May from stock—we sent invoices with all the goods to Corbyn, believing that he was a different person to the prisoner, or we would not have supplied them—we believed that it was a genuine order, and that Corbyn was carrying on a genuine business—this letter of June 21st (produced) is from the prisoner, announcing Corbyn's removal to 2s. Hanway Street, Oxford Street—I addressed some letters there, which I have received back from the police—my partner came up to London in July, and the prisoner was dismissed—we did not then know these circumstances with regard to Corbyn, but on ascertaining these circum-stances we instituted this prosecution—Corbyn has not paid us anything, nor has any one else with regard to these goods—we have not entered into lay arrangement with the prisoner to trade in an assumed name.

Cross-examined. We have given the prisoner the value of about 71l. altogether—I believe he began civil proceedings against us—he did not serve any writ, but the solicitor wrote a letter threatening legal proceeding—my partner went to the prisoner's office and burst open his desk

and took away his papers—I did not know anything about this charge at that time—I have seen the statement of accounts sent by his solicitor—I know that the name of Corbyn figures there; it is in the list as a liability to himself; he debits himself with the goods supplied to Corbyn—commission would be deducted—the prosecution was not undertaken for some days afterwards—the prisoner was offered the choice of canceling the agency agreement—I have never heard of wholesale houses supplying retail customers through branch establishments—the prisoner took the premises in Finsbury Square in March, about a month after the agreement—we did not Bend any goods before the premises were taken because he had no place to store them—goods were sent to his orders in March, but not to Finsbury Square; the order is sent by Carver and the goods are sent to Corbyn—the prisoner agreed to pay 25l. of the office rent, but he did not pay it—we did not consider that any commission was due to him, because we never received payment for a single order in London—we invoiced the accounts to hi Borders, but received none of those amounts—all the articles except Corbyn'e were sold bond-fide to respectable customers to the best of my belief, and we shall get the amounts in due course, and the commission will be due to the prisoner on his bond-Jib orders—he wrote to us very frequently about the business and got us several customers, and pushed our work to a certain extent—a good many of these goods were supplied in the names of people given to me—Mr. Spratt was one, and Mr. Williamson, of Bournemouth, another—Hamilton, of Brighton, was the only other person supplied through. Corbyn—the phrase used was "Spared by Corbyn"—he was to work for us from February 5th—there had been no settlement of his commission.

Re-examined. My partner broke open the desk at our office in Finsbury Square—the books, papers, and furniture, were ours—we have not received a farthing of the 17l. on this list, and irrespective of that there is a balance of 36s. 17s. 2d. due to us from the prisoner—we received this letter from the prisoner. (Stating that he had written to Hamilton of Brighton, about sending his goods to Corbyn.) That letter induced me to believe that Corbyn was another person altogether—when we discharged him we had a threat of an action against our solicitor, but no writ was issued.

JOHN LORDER . I am in partnership with Mr. Allen—I came up to town in April, and had a conversation with the prisoner—he said that Corbyn had been selling our goods, and took a deep interest in them—I had not the slightest suspicion at that time that Corbyn and Carver were the same person—I never heard any arrangement with the prisoner that he should be allowed to trade in a false name.

Cross-examined. I opened a desk belonging to the firm at Finsbury Square—the prisoner was not using it, he was dismissed, and I was using it at the time—the prisoner was to pay 25l. a year out of his commission towards the rent—he was our only representative in London—we received no money, and there was paid him no commission from us—he receded this 7l. 8s. in this list—he would have had his commission, but all money was to be sent to us in full to Glasgow—the rule in trade is for the agents to send us the money, and we send the commission back—we only send samples of oat flour at retail prices; after that we refer the customer to Mr. Glendinnng, of London Wall—I told the prisoner that if he would cancel the agreement we would not proceed against him, but

we did Dot know about this then—civil proceedings were, not commenced against him at that time—we knew that he was in our debt, and I said, "Rather than give any further trouble we will call quits and cancel your agreement; give it to me now, and I will discharge you."

Re-examined. Our instructions were that he was nut to sell on sale or return, but I found that he had done so, and we had to take them back I at considerable expense—I asked for the keys before I burst open the desk, and he said he would bring them, but did not.

GEORGE SPENCE . I am London delivery clerk to the Carron Steamship Company—I produce a statement showing the goods shipped in London in February, and find in it 13 cases and two parcels from Scott, of Glasgow, to F. L. Carver—the prisoner called on me with regard to them, and left this order, directing the goods to be sent to P. W. Corbyn, 28, Wetge Road, Hammersmith—I trusted them to my man Arnold to be delivered—this is a manifest of the goods by the Tay, which arrived on 10th March—I found Messrs. Scott's goods from Glasgow here—the prisoner called about 6 p.m. and wrote the instructions for me on this memorandum form, and I gave it to the carman with instructions to deliver the foods at the address given.

ARTHUR ARNOLD . I am a carman, and delivered goods for the Carron and London Steamship Company—this is the sheet (produced)—I delivered those goods to Gr. W. Corbyn, 28, Wetge Road, The Mall, Hammersmith, and the sheet was brought out signed.

HENRY CRUNDELL . I delivered goods to Corbyn on 14th March—this is my sheet signed.

HENRY BLUNDERFILED . I live at 28, Wetge Road, The Mall, Harnmersmith—I let that house to the prisoner in February in the name of George Wright Corbyn—he occupied it till June, and then left same time, leaving no address—the prosecutor made inquiries of me, and I found out where the prisoner was, and met him by appointment on the Embankment, and on the next day, when he was going to keep an appointment with me, a constable took him.

EMILY SEELEY . My mother keeps a stationer's shop at 107, Ebury Street—about 18 months ago the prisoner arranged with me to receive letters for him in the name of Carver, and about a year ago he asked me to receive letters in the name of Dormer—I did so, and gave all the letters to him.

Cross-examined. We let apartments, but never let any to the prisoner.

FELIX ROCCEAUX . I am a stationer, of 2a, Hannay Street, Oxford Street—toe take in letters for persons, and we took some in for corbyn—we have a board outside, "Letters may be addressed here, charge we and accommodation for writing"—persons send letters without proper arrangements and come for them—I gave Corbyn's letters to the police, and have had one since, which I have in my pocket.

JOSEPH DARLING (Police Sergeant F 41). On 12th August, at 2 o'clock, I saw the prisoner on the Thames Embankment—I stopped him and said, "Mr. Carver"—he made no reply—I said, "I am about to read a warrant to you, I should advise you not to say anything that may be used in evidence against you"—I read the warrant, and he said, "My name is not Carver, it is Corbyn; I don't know 28, Wetge Road; come with me to my solicitor, Mr. Martin"—the address is mentioned in the

warrant, and also the names of Carver and Corbyn—I took him in custody.

GUILTY .— Six Month's Hard Labour.

There was another indictment against the prisoner.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-869
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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869. FREEMAN LARGE (24) , Stealing a gelding and cart, two dead pigs, and other goods, the property of John Simmons.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. PUROELL Defended.

CHARLES ABBOTT . I am a coppersmith, of 20, Russell Place, Southwark Street—on Saturday, 12th April, about 9.30 a.m., I was standing in William Street, Blackfriars Road, when the prisoner drove up with a small spring cart and pony, and stopped by my side—he said to the man I had been talking to, "Can I drop the meat down?"—he then borrowed the man's knife and cut off the pig's hind trotter which was on the top of the cart—he gave it to the man, got up, and drove away—I saw a quantity of beef and veal in the cart—the same afternoon I saw the hone and cart outside the Goldsmiths' Arms in a policeman's charge—I have seen the prisoner several times—I did not know the horse and cart, nor to whom it belonged.

Cross-examined. I had not spoken to the man, and did not know his name—it was an ordinary butcher's cart—William Street is about a mile from the market—I was taken down in the country after the prisoner was arrested.

THOMAS BLACKWELL . I am a purveyor of cat's-meat, of 8, Charles Street, Blackfriars Road—I have a shed under the South-Eastern Rail-way—I know the prisoner by sight—I was cutting up meat in my barrow outside the railway arch when a man came up and asked me if he could deposit some meat there, and I refused—he got up in his cart and drove away immediately—I cannot swear to the man—there are several butchers about there, and they are all dressed alike.

Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "I am not sure if that was the prisoner or sot, I do not believe it is;" and I did not, that was telling the truth.

HENRY DICKERSON (Policeman N 344). About 4.45 on 12th April I was in the Southwark Bridge Road—I saw a horse and cart outside a public-house—the name on it was "john Simmons"—it was laden—having heard that a horse and cart had been stolen, I took it to the station, where the prosecutor owned it.

BAXTER HUNT (City Detective). On 6th June I received a warrant to arrest the prisoner, and an 19th July took him at Norwich, and read the warrant to him—he replied "I know nothing about it"—he was brought to London and charged.

JOHN HOLMES . I am a butcher, of 41, Portman Place, Grove Road—I have identified the meat as the property of John Simmons, whom I work for.


THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, September 16th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-870
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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870. SOPHIA TARRANT (50) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. LLOYD and B. HICKS Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.

HENRY EGAN . I am a costermonger, of 4, Danvers Buildings, Cheyne Walk—on Saturday evening, 9th July, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I was selling things in the street, and the prisoner bought 1lb. of currants of me and gave me 1s.—I put it in my mouth and broke it in half easily; it was bad, it felt very light—I said, "It is bad, put the currants down"—she said nothing, but walked away without them—I threw the coin in the road—I saw her again on a Tuesday, I think, at the Britannia, Beaufort Street, not far off, where I was with my barrow outside—I did not speak to her; I spoke to the potman outside about her, and 20 minutes afterwards saw her at the station.

Cross-examined. I do not remember if I said before the Magistrate that it was the 19th—I had served over 200 persons that night—I picked her out from four other women; I knew her again by her face and dress—I am not aware that I said before the Magistrate that I did not notice her dress—when I said to the potman outside the house, "That is the woman that passed the bad shilling to me" she was inside the house—I saw her going with the policeman to the station, and went to the station sod identified her.

JANET COVENTRY . I and my husband carry on a baker's shop in Beaufort Street, Chelsea—about 12 p.m. on 14th July the prisoner came in for half a quartern of flour, and gave me half-a-crown—I tried it; it was bad; I bent it in the tester, and put it down on the counter—the prisoner snatched it up—I said, It is a bad half-crown, and I ought to send for a policeman—she said she did not care if I sent for six—she went away, taking it with her—the flour came to 3d.—on 10th July I went to Chelsea Police-station and identified the prisoner from a number of others—Vandon came to the station and said in her presence, "She brought back a half-crown, and I threw it in the tire"—I do not think she said anything on that.

Cross-examined. At the police-station, when I said she was the woman who came to my shop, she said, "Yes, I was," and "My master gave me the half-crown."

ANNIE PERKINS . I am 13 years old, and live with my father and mother at the Britannia, Beaufort Street—on 29th July, about 11 a.m., the prisoner came in for half a pint of four-ale—I served her, and she gave me a penny—she afterwards asked me to change a half-crown—I gave her two shillings and a sixpence, and put the half-crown in the till, where there were no other half-crowns; I am quite certain—a little while after my mother came into the bar, went to the till, took out this half-crown, and showed it to me—the prisoner left the house directly after I had given her the change—about half an hour afterwards the prisoner came in for a pint of stout-and-bitter, put down four penny pieces, drank the beer, and left the house—in less than an hour I was taken to the station, saw her with four or five others, and picked her out—I should think it was an hour from the time I first saw her in our home to when I first saw her at the station.

Cross-examined. It was between 10 and 11 o'clock when she first came—I had not seen her before—when she came the second time, about half an hour afterwards, another woman was with her—I told Mr. Joliffe, our manager, that she was the woman that gave me the bad half-crown—he aid not ask me if that was the woman—the potman did not come in and say "Is that the woman?"—he did not come in to me at all—no one

spoke to me before I spoke to Joliffe—the manager came in the bar while the prisoner was there the second time—George Hart was the potman—I don't know if he came and spoke to the manager—I said before the Magistrate that I knew the prisoner again because she had a black bonnet and shawl and was very stout—I did not notice the other woman—I don't exactly know if she had the same dress on the second time as she did the first—I don't think I said before the Magistrate that she did not have the same dress on now as then—she was taken before the Magistrate on the same day that I served her.

By the Court. She has on the same dress now, but not the ties.

FLORENCE PERKINS . I am a widow, and keep the Britannia in Beaufort Street—on 29th July, between 10 and 11 o'clock, I went to the till and found this half-crown there—I did not see the prisoner there at the time, but I had seen her frequently in the house as a customer—there were no other half-crowns in the till—I gave it to Joliffe, my manager—I spoke to my daughter, who gave me a description of the woman.

Cross-examined. She told me it was a stout woman dressed in black—I don't know whether change had been given.

CHARLES JOLIFFE . I am manager to Mrs. Perkins—I left the bar at 10.12, having locked the till—there wore no half-crowns in it then—I came back about 10.40, and Mrs. Perkins gave me this bad half-crown, which I took down to the police-station directly—afterwards, about 12 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a pint of stout—the girl came and told me something, and I sent her for a policeman—the prisoner, who was with another woman, had just gone out of the house when the policeman came—I followed after her, and pointed her out to the constable, and she was taken to the station—I have seen her in and out of the house as a customer.

Cross-examined. I had heard nothing of the woman before I came into the bar at about 10.40—I did not swear before the Magistrate, "I drew Annie's attention to the woman"—I will not swear I did not—I said Annie came and told me, "That was the woman that gave me the bad half-crown"—I have been in Court while Annie Perkins was in the box.

PATRICK KELLY (Policeman T 180). On 29th July I went to the Britannia public-house, and then with Mr. Joliffe, and stopped the prisoner—I said, "I want you for passing a bad half-crown at the Britannia public-house this morning"—she said, "I have been there once to-day, and that was just now, I have been with my friend and had a pint of stout," pointing to the woman with her—that woman came to the station soon afterwards—I produce the coin I received from Mr. Joliffe—I believe no bad money was found on her—the female searcher handed to me a two-shilling piece, three shillings, two sixpences, a three-penny piece, four pennies, and 5 1/2 d. all good.

Cross-examined. I searched the house where she lives; I found no bad money there.

PATRICK CRONIN (Police Inspector T). On 29th July I was on duty at Chelsea Station when the prisoner was brought in—Charles Vandon was present—Coventry charged her with uttering a bad half-crown on 13th July—she said, "My master gave me the half-crown to purchase flour, I went to the shop and discovered it was a bad one, took it back to my master, who threw it on to the fire"—her master said he gave her a half-crown, but he did not know it was the one, and that he did throw it

into the fire on discovering: that it was bad—he said the prisoner gave it to him on returning from the shop—Egan said she had passed a bad shilling on 19th July; she said she did not—Mr. Perkins charged her with uttering a half-crown on 29th July—she said, "I went into the house once with a friend, we had a pint of stout, and paid 4d. for it."

Cross-examined. She was kept in custody, and not allowed to go away and change her dress.

CHARLES LAMBERT VANDON . I am a horse-dealer, at 51, Beaufort Street, Chelsea—on 13th July I gave the prisoner, who was my servant, a half-crown to get some flour—I did not know it was bad—she brought it back to me—I examined it and found it was bad, and threw it in the fire, where it disappeared—I believed it was bad, because it was very light—I did not notice that in the coin I gave her.

Cross-examined. She came back almost immediately after and told me the coin was bad—it was on a Sunday—it was not the same half-crown that I gave her that was returned to me.

PATRICK CRONIN (Re-examined). The prisoner was admitted to bail between the first and second hearing—her master was one of her bail.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to her Majesty's Mint—this is a bad half-crown—a good shilling would not break so easily as that described; no doubt it was a bad one—a bad coin would melt in a fire, a good one only at a white heat.

Cross-examined. It is possible to break good coins with the teeth, but not easy.

The prisoner in for statement before Magistrate said that she did not go outside the house till between 20 minutes to 11 and 11 o'clock, when she went to change a 5l. note, and that she had never been to the house but once, and had never seen the child nor the huckster boy till at the police-court; and she denied all knowledge of the half-crown.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-871
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

871. JOSEPH EDWIN SHOLL (28) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. LLOYD and HICKS Prosecuted.

HENRY RUMP . I am barman at the Young Prince public-house, Crisp Street, Poplar—on Saturday, 16th August, the prisoner came in with another man for a glass of old-and-mild and a small lemonade, and gave me a half-crown—I put it in the till; it was the only one there—about an hour afterwards he came in by himself and asked for a small lemonade—he gave me another half-crown, which I put in the till with the other—those were the only two in the till then—a man who had been upstairs having a wash came and changed the tills, and directly he took the half-crowns out he said they were bad ones—I was present—they were the two the prisoner had passed to me—the manager took care of them—on Tuesday, 19th August, three days after, the prisoner came in between 12 and 1 o'clock by himself, and asked for a small lemonade, which came to 2d.—he pat down a half-crown—I recognised him directly he came in, and saw the coin was bad by feeling it—I spoke to the manager, and he said to the prisoner "Are you aware this coin is bad?"—the prisoner answered "No; is the coin bad?"—the manager answered "Yes"—the prisoner said "If it is bad take it out of this"—he had a florin in his left hand, he did not take it out of his pocket—the manager said "I shall not, I shall keep it till I see further example of it"—he then went up-stairs and looked at the money I had taken in the week—he came down

and said "Here are some I have taken during the week," and then sent for a constable and gave the man into custody—the prisoner said nothing—I identify the coin passed on Tuesday and the one I took on Saturday from the prisoner—I cannot swear to the one taken on the Saturday.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had no suspicion of your first half, crown—I knew you directly when you came in the second time, on Saturday—I had never seen you before that day—I did not put the one on Tuesday into the till—there are five tills in the bar, two fur the under-barman, one for the second barman, one for me, and one for the manager—I never go to the shelf for large change, I have it in my patent till—the manager went to clear the tills, and I wanted more sixpences—we have 25s. of change in the tills, and when 1l. is used up it is replaced.

GEORGE REYNOLDS . I manage the Young Prince public-house—on 19th August, between 12 and 1 p.m., my attention was called to a bad half-crown—I saw the prisoner there and said to him "Are you aware it is bad?"—he said "No"—he tendered a florin and said "Will you let me look at it"—I said "No," and asked if he had any more—he said "No"—I sent for a constable and told him I would have him searched—I said "There have been some taken during the week, and the next one that tenders any I shall certainly have taken in custody"—on the 16th I had found two bad half-crowns in the till—they were the only half-crowns there—I called the barman's attention to it then—I put one of them in my safe on Tuesday and one on Saturday, and eventually gave them and the other on the Saturday to the police—another was taken on Saturday—there are four altogether.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I found the two bad half-crowns the barman was serving in the same compartment, and saw me take them out—I called his attention—I left 5s. in the till—I put in 1l. worth of sixpences—he said to me on the Tuesday that he thought he recognized you as the man who was in there on Saturday.

MARY BOLTON . I am the wife of Adam Bolton—we keep the Prince of Wales beerhouse. Crisp Street, Poplar—on 16th August I was in the house with my daughter—about 1.15 the prisoner came in and asked for half an ounce of tobacco—he put down a half-crown—I gave him 2s. 4d. change—I had the half-crown in my hand and said "Why, this is a bad one"—I found it was not heavy enough to go through the teeter, and said "No, it is bad"—I put it on the counter—the prisoner took it up and gave me back my change and the tobacco, and walked out—I am certain he is the man.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I swear to you by your features; I looked you right in the face—other customers were there—it was Saturday night, and a busy time.

Re-examined. The Prince of Wales is seven doors from the Young Prince—I picked the prisoner out from seven others at the station—I put every coin in the tester; if good they fall through into the box, but if too light they will not go through—I could feel this was light.

WILLIAM ROOKS (Police Inspector K). On 19th August Reynolds called me to the Young Prince—the prisoner was there, and this half-crown was produced—I said to him "Did you know it was bad?"—he said "No; I have a good two-shilling piece, if they will give me the half-crown back. I am a respectable lighterman, and just come off my

barge to have a drink; I hope you won't keep me"—I said "I shall March you"—I did so—in his left hand was a good florin; he had nothing else—the manager gave me three coins besides the one I produced at the station—the prisoner only said "I was at the house on Saturday," alluding to the Young Prince.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These four half-crowns are bad—one of the three is of the same mould as that of the 19th.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not know it was counterfeit. I was at home on Saturday; I was not at work since Friday."

The prisoner in his defence denied all knowledge of the coins passed an Saturday and stated that he was at West Kensington at that time.

HENRY RUMP (Re-examined). The prisoner came in on the Saturday twice between 2 and 5; the second time about an hour after the first.


He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin in February, 1875.— Five Yews' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-872
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

872. ANN WITT (31) and ELIZABETH MAODONALD (34) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.

JANE RAMPLIN . My husband keeps the Beehive Tavern, City Road—on 28th July Macdonald came to my side bar about 11.40 at night for. half a pint of fourpenny ale, which came to 1d.—she gave me a bad six-pence, and I said "This is a bad sixpence"—she said "I am not aware of it"—I bent it double in my tester and put it on the counter—she repeated she was not aware it was bad, and took it—she said she got her living in the street, and expected her little boy had taken it at the barrow—Witt came in the middle bar at the same time—as soon as I had served Macdonald she called for a glass of ale, and gave me a sixpence—I took it up and said "I should think you are getting it up for me between you, one in one bar and one in the other"—she said she was not aware it was a had sixpence, she only had another penny in the world, and she gave me a penny for the ale—I took the penny, and said "I have taken so many that I said the next one that came in I would lock them up"—she said "I assure you I am innocent; I am as innocent as a baby"—both the sixpences were of 1876, and one was exactly like the other—I broke it up with my teeth and threw it over the bar—Constable Diamond came in and asked me what I was grumbling for—I said "I don't think I am grumbling very much; it is a strange thing, two people come in and give me had sixpences, one in one bar and one in another"—the constable turned to Witt, who heard what we said, and asked if she had any more—she said she hoped I would not lock her up—Macdonald had gone out directly I went to serve Witt—I saw Langley in the other side bar, from which he could see both bars, and hear me speak to her—he looked over the partition—Macdonald was not brought back.

RICHARD LANGLEY . I am a collar-dresser, and live at 37, Boleyn Street—on 28th July I was at the Beehive at 11 or 11.30 p.m.—the two prisoners together looked into the compartment where I was sitting from outside—I then noticed Macdonald in the farther compartment, and that the landlady was having two or three words with her, and I got up to we what it was, and noticed Witt in the middle bar, and at the same

time that Macdonald was looking towards her and shaking her head—a man and his wife were sitting just behind—then I heard the landlady say "That is another one, you are trying it on again," and then I heard there had been a counterfeit coin passed by Macdonald, who walked out-side while the landlady was having words with Witt—I went outside and met the two constables—Diamond came into the house, and the other constable followed Macdonald.

BENJAMIN DIAMOND (Policeman G 282). On 2th July last I went to the Beehive about halt past 11, in consequence of what Langley told me—I said to Mrs. Ramplin in Witt's presence, who was the only one of the two prisoners there, "What is the matter, Mrs. Ramplin? you seem upset"—the said "I should think I was upset, I have been tried with two bad sixpences"—I said "Who tried you? where are the persons?"—she said "There sits one, there," pointing to Witt—I said "Where is the other?"—she said "Gone out of the house"—I said "Where is the bad sixpence?"—she said "I broke it up and threw it over the bar"—I afterwards picked up these four pieces—Witt said "I hope you won't lock me up"—Mrs. Ramplin said "I don't know whether I shall or not"—I said to Witt "Have you got any more on you?"—she said "No; I hope you won't lock me up, sir"—I said "I don't know for the present; it is very likely," and Mr. Ramplin gave them into custody—I told her to come with me—when about 20 yards from the house I heard her throw something away down a grating—I seized hold of her hands and took 1s. 8d. in coppers out of her left hand—I then left her standing close to the grating in charge of a constable in uniform while I got permission to go down the area and pick up two bad sixpences—the grating was about two feet square, of iron bars, on the footway, over an area leading to a kitchen—I went and picked up two bad sixpences, and when I came up said "I have got two, have you got any more?"—she said "I don't know how many were in the paper when I picked it up"—there was no paper near then—I took her to the station—when charged she said "There were two men fighting in the City Road; I saw one of them drop something; I picked it up and found it contained these sixpences, but I don't know how many there were"—the next morning I made a further search in the area, and found two more sixpences, corresponding to the others—I have here four sixpences and two pieces.

HENRY KIMBER (Police Sergeant G 22). On 28th July, about half-past 11, I saw Macdonald walking very fast through the street near the Beehive—Langley had pointed her out to me—she went into the back-yard of 3, Bath Buildings, about 200 or 300 yards from this place—I followed her and said, "I am a police-officer, I shall take you in custody for uttering a counterfeit sixpence to Mrs. Rampling at the Beehive just now"—she made no reply—I asked her whether she had any other money about her; she said "No"—in answer to the charge at the station she said, "I don't know this woman," meaning Witt, "I never saw her in my life before"—10d. in bronze was found on her.

ANN DENTON . I am a female searcher at Old street Station—on 28th July I searched Witt and found on her an empty purse and no money, but on the way to the room in which I searched her I picked up two good sixpences and 3d. in bronze tied up—I found 10d. in bronze on Macdonald.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This broken sixpence and these four are all bad, and from the same mould.

Witt's Statement before the Magistrate. "When I picked up these things I was not aware they were bad money."

Witt in her defence stated that she saw two men fighting, and one of them dropped something, which she picked up and found to be a parcel of sixpences, and that she did not know they were bad.

Macdonald said that she worked very hard for her living, and that her boy who minded her stall sometimes must have taken the sixpence, and she denied all guilty knowledge.



She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in March, 1876, in the name of Ann racy.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-873
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

873. JOHN BOULDON (26) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.

MARY ANN WILMHURST . I am barmaid at the Barbican, Red Cross Street—on Tuesday, 3rd August, about 4.30, the prisoner came in for half a pint of ale, which came to 1 1/2 d.—he gave me this half-crown in payment—I gave him the change; he went away—soon after I went to the till for a shilling, and I found there was not another half-crown there—I picked up this one, and it was bad—I gave it to the constable—on the 16th the prisoner came in again about half-past 2, and asked for half a pint of ale and a pennyworth of shag, which came to 2 1/2 d.—he gave me this half-crown (produced), which I gave to my master, Mr. Clark, we went up to the prisoner—I asked him where he got it from—he said a gentleman gave it to him for carrying a portmanteau—he asked him if he had any money about him—he said "No," and Mr. Clark then gave him into custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot swear to you; to the best of my recollection you are the man.

ALFRED CLARK . I keep the Barbican in Red Cross Street—on 16th August the last witness showed me a bad half-crown, and in consequence of what she said I said to the prisoner, "Have you any more of these half-crowns about you?"—he said "No"—I said, "It looks very suspicious"—the barmaid said to me, "That is the man that gave me the bad half-crown on Tuesday last when you were at St. Leonards"—the prisoner said nothing to that—he said a gentleman gave it to him for carrying a portmanteau—I gave him into custody with the half-crown.

Cross-examined. I did not go outside the house for a constable, only to the door, because there is a constable's point outside.

JOSEPH THOMSON (City Policeman 150). On the afternoon of 16th August, about 3.30, I was called to the Barbican by Mr. Clark, who showed me the half-crown in the prisoner's presence, and said, "This is the half-crown that has just been taken by the barmaid"—I said to the prisoner, "How do you account for it? Have you any more about you?"—he said, "No, I had the half-crown given to me by a gentleman for carrying his portmanteau"—Miss Wilmhurst said, "That is the person to the best of my knowledge that tendered another half-crown on Tuesday last"—he said, "Are you sure of that?"—she said, "I am positive it was you by your appearance"—I took him to the station—I found 1 1/2 d. on him—this half-crown was

given to me at the time; and this, the one said to have been taken on the Tuesday, was brought afterwards.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These are both bad, and from different moulds.

The prisoner in his defence staled that he was engaged by a man outside Charing Gross Station to carry his bag for two or three days, and he gave him a half-crown each day, and that he changed one on the Tuesday, and called at the same house later on, and he denied all knowledge of their being bad.

GUILTY of a single uttering. The prisoner had been in custody in April 1882, for uttering, and been discharged.— Six Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-874
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

874. JAMES MCCARTHY (49) and JAMES BROWN (29) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


ANNIE IVES . I am barmaid at the Gladstone, 65, Bishopsgate Street—about 7.30 on the night of 17th August McCarthy asked for a glass of mild-and-Burton—I served him, and he gave me a bad half-crown—I bent it in the tester—I returned it to him saying, "This is bad"—he said,."I will go out and be back in a few minutes, and will pay for the ale"—he drank part of it—he never returned—this (produced) is not the half-crown.

LOTTIE PRATT . I am barmaid at the King's Arms in Bishopsgate—about a quarter-past 8 on the evening of 17th August McCarthy came in the bar alone and asked for a pint of ale, which came to 2d.—he gave a half-crown in payment—I told him it was a bad one—he said, "Well, if you say this is a bad one this is the last penny I have got in the world"—soon after Sagar came in—I gave the coin back to McCarthy—I marked this nark on it at the station.

ROBERT JOHNSON (Detective Inspector, London and Worth-Western Railway, Broad Street). About 7.35 on 17th August I saw McCarthy in the Gladstone and Miss Ives bending the half-crown—I followed McCarthy out into Peahen Street; he was immediately joined by Brown—they both came out of the passage together, and crossed Bishopsgate Street, and were in conversation—Brown left McCarthy, who moved about in a suspicious manner from lamppost to lamppost—I sent a young man for Sagar, whom I had seen previously, and he came up—he was not in uniform—immediately he did so Brown joined McCarthy again at the corner of Houndsditch, and they crossed down St. Botolph Churchyard towards the King's Arms public-house—they came back from the King's Arms to a urinal, and after being in there for a short time they came back and passed the public-house—I and Sagar passed in front of them; we turned and saw McCarthy going up the passage, and we went up to the top of the passage into Bishopsgate Street, where the prisoners were together—Sagar arrested McCarthy, and I and another man arrested Brown—Brown said, "What am I apprehended for?"—I said "I apprehend you for attempting to utter counterfeit coin in company with another man"—he said, "This is all right."

ROBERT SAGAE (City Detective). On 17th August, about 8 o'clock, I was in Liverpool Street, and in consequence of something paid to me went to Bishopsgate Street, where I saw Johnson following McCarthy—I followed him; I was in plain clothes—I saw McCarthy joined by Brown; they had some conversation at the corner of Houndsditch, and both came

across the road down Bishopsgate Churchyard into a urinal near the King's Arms; alter being in some minutes they came out, looked towards the King's Arms, and walked past 10 yards, came back again, and separated opposite the public-house; Brown going back up the church-yard and McCarthy into the public-house—I went in after him into another compartment, and saw Lottie Pratt holding a half-crown in her hand, and saying to McCarthy "This won't do, this is bad"—she then put the half-crown on the counter—he picked it up and left the house—he said something which I could not hear—I followed him into Bishops-gate Churchyard, where I saw Brown waiting at the corner of Hounds-ditch—McCarthy joined him—I got the assistance of a uniform constable and laid hold of McCarthy's right hand, and said "What have you got about you?"—he began to struggle, and put his left hand up to his mouth—I heard something jingle, and I and the constable seized him by the throat and threw him to the ground—he kept on struggling, and after some time the officer got his finger into his mouth, and this half-crown dropped out of his mouth, and the officer picked it up—I took the prisoner to the station—in answer to the charge he said "You can book what charge you like"—Brown said "I don't know the man; I have never seen him before"—they were searched—on McCarthy was found 6d. in silver, and on Brown 3s. 4d.—McCarthy was asked for his address—he said "I live anywhere"—I believe Brown gave a correct address at a common lodging-house—Sagar was called on to assist me.

ROBERT SAYER (City Policeman 962). I was with Sagar on the evening of 17th August, and helped him to apprehend McCarthy—he became very violent when Sagar went up—Sagar said "What have you got there? "and took his right hand—the prisoner with his left arm threw a coin into his mouth—I immediately sized him by the throat—he became very violent, and kicked me on the right shin—I threw him down, and extracted the half-crown from his mouth—I searched the prisoner at the station—on McCarthy I found 6d. and this purse, and on Brown 3s. 4d. good money.

WILLIAM ROLFE (Detective Sergeant H). I have seen the prisoners together on about half a dozen occasions since June walking and talking together.

Cross-examined by McCarthy. Your face is very familiar to me—I know nothing wrong of you for sure, only what I am told.

Cross-examined by Brown. I have been keeping observation on you.

JOHN HOWARD (Policeman H 93). On 5th May last I was called to the Seven Stars public-house in Whitechapel in the evening—Brown was present—the manager produced these pieces of a bad two-shilling piece, and said "This man has passed this coin to my barmaid"—I asked him if be had tiny more about him—he said "No"—I took him to the station—he said he had been gambling on Sunday, and might have got it then—he was brought up before the Magistrate, remanded, and discharged.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These are a bad florin and a bad half-crown. The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. McCarthy says:: "I have nothing to say, only that this man met me accidentally in Bishopsgate Street. I was looking for a convenience; went up a court, and could not we one there. This prisoner was looking for the same purpose. I went down the court to the urinal, and this man did the same. When we came

out we separated, and I don't remember seeing him since." Brown says; "I have nothing to say."

McCarthy in hit defence denied all guilty knowledge, and said he did not know he had the sixpence at the time he uttered the half-crown, and that he had never seen Brown before to the best of his belief.

Brown stated that he was standing at the corner of Houndsditch when McCarthy came up and asked where the urinal was; that he showed him and then they parted, and that beyond this he knew nothing of him.

GUILTY . BROWN**— Two Years' Hard Labour. MCCARTHY Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-875
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

875. WILLIAM SMITH (45) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. LLOYD Prosecuted.

LILY HILLS . I am barmaid to Thomas Barrett, of 110, Grosvenor Road—on let August, between 5 and 6, the prisoner asked for a two-penny smoke, and gave me half-a-crown in payment—I put it in the till—I took no other money from him—directly after he was gone, Miss Whiteley, the manageress, cleared the till and called my attention to the till, and showed me this bad half-crown, which was the one I had taken—on 11th August, rather a busy night, the prisoner came again, and asked for half a pint of sixpenny ale. which came to 1 1/2 d.—I served the ale; he offered half-a-crown in payment—I tried it in the till, bent it, and said "Wait a minute, I will go and get some change," and I gave it to Mr. Fred, Mr. Barrett's son—the prisoner drank the beer and remained in the bar—Mr. Fred Barrett came to the prisoner and said "Have you got any more about you like this?"—he said nothing, but stood there—this is the half-crown.

FREDERICK WILLIAM BARRETT . I am Thomas Barrett's son—he keeps the William the Fourth—on 11th August I saw the prisoner in the bar—I drew the ale—Miss Hills received the half-crown and handed it to me—I recognised the prisoner, and in consequence of what she said I got over the counter and detained the prisoner—a cabman came, and said to the prisoner while I was detaining him "What is the matter?"—I did not know the cabman before; I had suspicions of him, and he was taken into custody and discharged.

THOMAS BARRETT . I am proprietor of the William the Fourth, in the Grosvenor Road—on the evening of 11th August I received from my son this half-crown—I communicated with the police—on 1st August I also received from Miss Whiteley this coin, which I found to be bad.

CHARLES SYMES (Policeman B R 34). I received this bad half-crown from Mr. Barrett, which I produce here; it is the second one—I apprehended Smith—I said "You hear what the landlord says with reference to this half-crown?"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I said "You will have to come to the station with me"—I asked him where he lived—he said "I refuse to tell you"—Cripps, the cabman, was apprehended with him, and discharged—I searched the prisoner and found 2d. on him.

EMMA WHITELEY . I am manageress to Mr. Barrett, at the William the Fourth, Grosvenor Road—on 1st August I cleared the bar till between 4 and 5, and found in it this bad half-crown, which I gave to the governor directly—I called Miss Hill's attention to it—I had seen nothing of it before finding it there—I saw Miss Hill serve a twopenny smoke and take a half-crown in payment.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two half-crowns are bad from different moulds.

Prisoner's Defence. I was not in the house on 1st August.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 17th, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-876
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > no evidence

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876. WILLIAM SHANNON (25) was indicted for feloniously wounding William Gunningham, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

He PLEADED GUILTY to the Second Count. MR. LILLEY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the First Count.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-877
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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877. JOHN SULLIVAN (33) was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the wilful murder of Thomas Sullivan.

MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON defended, at the request of the Court.

ELIZABETH SOUTH . I live at 6, Steven's Acre, Poplar—I am single—the prisoner and his wife lived at No. 3, Steven's Acre—it is a three-roomed house; they occupied the whole of it—they had two children, Johnny, aged seven, and Tommy, aged four—on 23rd July, about 6 o'clock in the evening, the prisoner was playing with the two children outside the house; he had bought them some sweets—his wife was there too—later on, at a quarter to 10 o'clock, I was in the street speaking to Mrs. Kelly's daughter, Ellen, and saw the little boy Johnny come out of the buck way of the house crying—his head was bleeding—Tommy then came out crying, his head was also bleeding—Mrs. Sapsford came out of her house; she took Johnny and I took Tummy and carried them down to the bottom of the court, and then two men took them to the hospital, and I followed—I afterwards came back from the hospital and saw the prisoner taken away in custody—the prisoner's wife was there—she was quite sober—I afterwards saw Tommy's dead body at the hospital on the following Wednesday—I also saw Johnny at the hospital.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner's family between six and eight months—he was always very kind to his children—he was not accustomed to drink a great deal at times; he was a teetotaller for a good while at the time I knew him—I have not known of other occasions when he has had long fits of drunkenness—at 6 o'clock that evening his manner was quite kind to the children—he and his wife lived very happy together as far as I knew—I do not know of complaints having been made against the wife of continually pawning and selling things.

ELLEN SAPSFORD . I am the wife of Elias Sapsford, and lire at 8, Steven's Acre—on 23rd July, between half-past 8 and 9 o'clock, I saw Tommy and Johnny playing in the court—the prisoner was in his house at that time, and his wife was at Mrs. Kelly's—I went into my house—about a quarter of an hour afterwards I heard some screaming—I went out and saw the two children running towards Mrs. Kelly's, both bleeding from the head—I took Johnny up the court—some men took the two children to the hospital and I followed—the prisoner was taken away in custody.

Cross-examined. At the time I saw the prisoner, at 6 o'clock in the

evening, he was playing with the children—I know nothing about an accident that he had some years ago—I have not heard it spoken about—I have only known him six or seven mouths—I have not seen him in drink before—I have not seen him very much, because I have nut lived there very long.

LEWIS HAGMIRE . I am a pork-butcher, at 318, High Street, Poplar, about two minutes' walk from Steven's Acre—on Wednesday night, 23rd July, about 20 minutes to 10 o'clock, I was in my shop; the prisoner rushed into the shop—I may have seen him before, but I did not know much of him—he appeared very excited, in a half-mad state—he appealed to me to give him a saveloy, saying "It is the last one I shall have in Poplar"—I gave him one, and he began to eat it—while he was there Mr. Mace came in and spoke to me, and said "This man is mad, he has got a hammer"—the prisoner was near enough to hear—I said "What do I care about his hammer? my knife is equal to his hammer"—I had not seen that the prisoner had anything with him, but afterwards I saw this chopper (produced)—I said to the prisoner "Hand the hammer up", and he then passed this chopper to me across the counter—it is a plasterer's hammer—he said "Take this chopper, I have just killed my two little children with it"—I said "Nonsense, man, I don't believe it"—he said nothing more—Meedon, the constable, came in through the crowd that was standing at the door—he spoke to the prisoner and told me to take care of the chopper—I afterwards gave it up to the police—when I took possession of it there was some slight blood on one corner; it looked like moist blood.

Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner before—I had not seen him often—I had not seen anything strange in his manner—I had not taken notice of him—he seemed very strange and wild on this occasion—it was more like frenzy; I took him for another man, he looked in a maddened state—I thought he was temporarily mad from drink; he was crying and sobbing all the while—he did not attempt to get away—he stood there eating his saveloy for a few minutes before the police came.

Re-examined. When he first came in I thought he was half mad from drink.

CHARLES MEEDON (Policeman X 432). At 9.45 on the night of 3rd July I was in High Street, Poplar—I saw a crowd round the pork-butcher's shop, No. 318—the prisoner was in the shop—I went in and said "What is the matter here?"—the prisoner answered "I want you, I want to tell you something"—I said "What is it?"—he said "I have killed my two children, my poor little Tommy and Johnny; I chopped them on the head with that chopper," pointing to this chopper, which was lying on the floor of the shop—I asked him where it occurred—he said "Inside my house"—I then went with him to No. 3, steven's Acre, Blackball—on going inside the house I saw a quantity of blood on the floor of the first-floor front room—while I was at the house the prisoner said "I knew you were on the cross," meaning a fixed point where I was doing duty at the time, "and I came on purpose to see you and tell you what I had done; but as I did not see you at the corner I walked up the street and went into Hagmire's"—he also said "My b y wife ought to have had it instead of the young ones, but I was obliged to have revenge on some—one, so I hit them on the head, and I know I have killed them"—I took him in custody and conveyed him to the station—I told him he would be

charged with wounding the children—the charge was read over to him by the inspector, and he then said "Oh, my poor little Johnny and Tommy, why did I do it?"—he appeared to have been drinking heavily.

WILLIAM ROOKS (Police Inspector K). On the night of 23rd July, about 10.10, the prisoner was brought to the police-station—he appeared very excited, apparently from drink—he was charged with wounding his two children—I entered the charge, and read it over to him—it was for feloniously wounding his two children by striking them on the head with a lather's hammer—I said "What you say now will be taken down in writing, and used at your trial"—he then made a statement, which I took down in writing—this is it. (Read: "My poor Johnny and Tommy aw dead. I have killed them. I knew a long time ago it would come to this. It is all through my wife; she is a blooming flamer. She pawns every thing. I bought poor little Tommy a suit of clothes; I paid 8s. 6d. for them, and when I went home they were gone. I hope you will never do to your children what I have done to mine.") I read that over to him—he did not say anything—that same night, about 11 o'clock, I went to the prisoner's house, and saw his wife; she was sober—I saw blood in the room.

Cross-examined. I have been to the house to inquire with regard to the pawning of the clothes—I found that they had not been pawned, and that for some months past they had lived on perfectly friendly terms.

ERNEST WESTBROOK . I am house surgeon at Poplar Hospital—on 23rd July, a little before 10 o'clock at night, the prisoner's two children were brought there—the elder one, John, was about seven years old, and Thomas, the younger one, about four—I examined the head of Thomas, and found a compound depressed fracture of the skull on the left side of the frontal bone, about three inches long—the membranes of the brain were torn through, and the brain was ruptured, and protruding through the fracture—he died on Sunday night, 3rd August—I made a post-mortem examination; the cause of death was meningitis from the injury to the brain—a blow from such a chopper as the one produced would cause those injuries—the boy John is still alive; he left the hospital this week; he also had a compound fracture of the skull.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you ascertained at your hospital whether the prisoner is the man that had the injury some years back? A. I have looked through the books, there are a great number of sullivans, but the only one I could find was on 16th April, 1872—I have not been able to ascertain whether the prisoner is that man—I was not at the hospital at that time—I simply saw in the book that he had a lacerated scalp—homicidal mania may possibly break out without any apparent cause; without having been noticeable before—a man who had been accustomed to drink a great deal at one time, and then had abstained for a long time, may possibly be subject to it more than in an ordinary case.

Re-examined. By "homicidal mania "I understand mania that comes on suddenly with a tendency to inflict wounds—I mean mania that comes on suddenly and goes off suddenly—I should not describe it as the cane of a violent man in drink committing an act of violence—the mere act of violence may possibly be from homicidal mania, although he knew directly afterwards what he had done; he has a tendency to inflict injury on other persons—that is the case with any man who gets drunk and violent—a violent ill-conditioned man doing an act in sudden anger I should not describe that as homicidal mania.

PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Her Majesty's gaol, the House of Detention—the prisoner has been in that gaol since July 23rd—I have seen him repeatedly during that time, and had my attention called to him—in my opinion he is a man of perfectly sound mind and understanding.

Cross-examined. An uncontrollable impulse suddenly coming on and going away suddenly is a mania—there is a mental difference between that and the ordinary act of killing in a passion—there is such a thing as a sudden homicidal mania which is practically uncontrollable.

Re-examined. A man perfectly sane before the act and same afterwards suddenly doing an act, I should not necessarily call homicidal mania.

By the COURT. I never knew of such a case within my own experience.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say. I can get respectable people to say I was a good father. I did not know what I was doing. I was drunk. I can get good characters. I fell down a ship's hold and cut my head. The least glass of beer I take affects me. It is 14 or 15 years ago; that was why I kept from drink. My wife can say I am a good father."

GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on the ground of the affection he had always shown towards his children. DEATH .

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-878
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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878. THOMAS HARRIS (48) was indicted for the wilful murder of Hannah Harris. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like murder.


SUSANNAH MARIA ROBINS . I am the wife of Frank Robins, a carpenter, and live at 48, Herries Street, Queen's Road, Kilburn—the prisoner and his wife Hannah occupied the basement floor, consisting of three rooms, in our house for seven or eight weeks—they had three young children, and one came afterwards; I couldn't tell their ages—the prisoner did not do any work during that time that I am aware of; he was generally at home—the wife did laundry work at my house in one of their rooms—on Friday, 8th August, I was assisting the prisoner's wife downstairs—the prisoner's daughter came in, and after she had gone Mrs. Harris went into the other room, and I heard high words between her and the prisoner that continued about a quarter of an hour—it was about 8 o'clock in the evening—that all passed off and became quiet, but when I went upstairs about 9 o'clock I heard them again, but it didn't last many minutes—I couldn't tell the words; it wasn't loud enough for me to hear, because I did not listen—the next night, Saturday, 9th August, in the evening I was at home; my brother and my husband were in the house at the time—the prisoner's wife was not there; the prisoner called me, "Mrs. Robins, can I speak to you?"—he was at the foot of the stairs leading up to my rooms; I went down within three steps of him—it was very dark—he asked me if I wanted to buy a hat and a dolman—I decline and said, "I cannot afford it"—he then went into the troubles of himself and his wife—I said that did not interest me, I was very sorry—he said they had been quarrelling about the little child, that the bother was all through a little child that he had sent home to him in an emaciated condition—I said, "I don't see much the matter with it, it looked very nice"—he said he had good references and characters from Cheltenham

that he could get—he then made a movement towards me, and with that I retreated a step backwards—my husband called me away—I then went out for a time, and afterwards met his wife—she was quite sober; she bad been out marketing—I returned home about half-past 10—I had not been many minutes in my parlour when I heard a woman's scream—I ran to the top of the stairs and listened, and I heard a severe struggle going on in the back room downstairs, which was their bedroom—I then heard the dour open with a loud noise, and saw a female come out in a white nightdress—she stood at the foot of the stairs and said "Oh"—it was light enough then for me to see her—she said nothing else but "Oh"—I heard a flow; I thought that she was vomiting; it was a sound as though water was being pumped—I called for a light; my brother, George Skinner, brought one, and I then found the woman was the prisoner's wife, still standing at the foot of the stairs—her head was leaning forward, and blood was coming from her throat—I saw the prisoner at the kitchen door in his shirt within a yard of his wife—my brother went down with a light—I heard the prisoner say, "I have done it, I meant to do, and I will die like a man"—I saw Mrs. Harris sinking in a reclining position at the foot of the stairs—I ran to the door to tell some one to go and fetch a constable, but my husband had already gone—a policeman came and took the prisoner in custody, and a doctor came and attended to the woman—I said to the prisoner, "You bad man"—that was directly the light was brought; that was all, I did not go near him again.

Cross-examined. I should not think I heard the struggle in the back room for more than a minute or two—that was followed almost immediately by the door opening with a loud noise—I did not hear any voices daring the struggle—the light was there when the prisoner said, "I have done it, and I will die like a man"—I said previous to that, "Oh, you bad man"—the whole thing only occupied a very short time.

GEORGE WILLIAM SKINNER . I live at 48, Herries Street, Queen's Park—the last witness is my sister—on Saturday night, 9th August, I was at that house—I could not form any opinion at all of the time—my sister said something to me, and I heard a noise down in the basement, a kind of scuffling—then the door burst open, and Mrs. Harris rushed out and exclaimed "Oh" twice—I followed my sister to the foot of the stairs—I heard something and said, "He is pouring water over her"—I went back and got a light, and looked down the stairs; I saw the prisoner's wife standing at the foot of the stairs in 'her nightdress, bleeding from the throat—I went downstairs then with the light, and saw the prisoner standing at the kitchen doer in his shirt only—I pushed him up against the door and called him a scoundrel—I looked in his left hand to see if he bad anything in it; he had nothing—I said, "You have killed the woman outright"—he said, "I meant to do it; I have done it like a man, and I will die like a man"—I said, "What did you do it for?"—he said, "she has not given me anything to eat for two days"—I said, "What did you do it with?"—he made no reply—I noticed that his right hand was covered with blood—he returned into the back kitchen and offered me some papers—I followed him in there with the light—I told him to place the papers on the desk and give them to the constable when he came—he put them on the drawers—there was more than one piece of paper—I did not take them—I told him to get himself dressed, and he

need not think of getting away before the policeman came—a doctor afterwards came and attended to the woman, and a policeman came and took the prisoner into custody—I helped to carry the woman into the room; she was then dead.

Cross-examined. The prisoner and his wife occupied three rooms; the room that the wife came out of was the bedroom.

ALFRED SAUNDERS (Policeman X 162). On Saturday night, 9th August, I was called to 48, Herries Street—I got there about twenty minutes to 11—I found the woman lying at the foot of the stairs in her nightdress; there was a pool of blood on the floor, and blood on her dress—I saw the prisoner in his shirt, and saw blood on his right hand; he was standing in the back parlour door—I said "What have you done?" at the same time cautioning him as to what he said—he replied "I am the man that done it, and meant to do it, and there is the razor lying on the table"—I saw a razor lying on a table in the room and took possession of it; it was open and smeared with blood—I told him to dress himself; he did so, and I took him to the station—he seemed very quiet and appeared to be sober.

HENRY SKBIVER (Police Sergeant X 22). On this Saturday night I was on duty at the Harrow Road Police-station—the prisoner was brought in by Saunders, charged with murdering his wife at 48, Herries Street—he made a statement to me after the charge was preferred, but before it was taken—I wrote down what he said as he said it, I read it over to him, and he said it was quite correct—this is it. (Read: "I am sorry—I was bound to do one thing or the other, she has been bringing me to poverty for the last twenty-five years; she and my eldest son and daughter have robbed me of 600l. since July 1883.") The other part was taken by Inspector Morgan; I was present and saw him write it—when the charge was read over to the prisoner, and he was being searched, this was all read over to him, and he said it was quite correct—at a later period, when the evidence of the last witness was being taken, the statement of Inspector Morgan was made, and the prisoner said "What I said was that I had done it," and Inspector Morgan wrote that down at, the time; it was merely a correction of the other man's evidence, who said "I am the man that done it.".

DANIEL MARLOW (Police Inspector X). A little after 11 on this Saturday night I heard of this matter—I went to the prisoner's house and found the woman there dead—I then came to the station and saw the prisoner there—the charge was made and the razor produced—previous to that I went to the prisoner's room and found these three sheets of paper lying on the chest of drawers in the basement.

REUBEN GALLOWAY (Policeman X 180). On Sunday morning, 10th August, I was in charge of the prisoner at the police station, the door of his cell was open—he was speaking of being in America and about his troubles—he said "Do you know what they have done with my children?"—I said "No doubt they will be taken care of; how many children have you got?"—he said "Eleven"—I said "It is a sad thing"—he said "Yes, but done in a minute; I thought no more about it than if I was killing a pig; somebody said fetch a doctor, but I knew a doctor could not do her any good."

CARR HALSTOCK ROBERTS . I am a registered medical practitioner—a little before 11 on the Saturday night I was sent for to the prisoner's

house—I saw the deceased there lying at the foot of the stairs in the basement, and saw the blood there—I had her put on a bed in the bed-room—I found she was dead before she was carried in—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—I examined the neck—I found a superficial wound about three inches in length on the left side of the neck, and another wound about an inch above it on the same side about four inches and a half long, extending from below the ear to underneath the chin—it had divided all the principal bloodvessels and the larynx, it had cat through the muscles lining the vertebra of the neck—they were all clean cut wounds such as a razor would inflict—the cause of death was loss of blood—there were no external marks of violence upon her.

THOMAS HENRY PULLED . I live at 40, Third Avenue, Queen's Park—I am a printer by trade—I married the prisoner's daughter—his wife was about forty-four years of age—he is a market gardener—he formerly lived at Cheltenham with his wife and family—about August last his wife left him for a time, afterwards they lived together in London—I am not aware that she left him for any fault of hers—in the early part of this year they were living at my house without the children for about a fortnight or three weeks, and then he had them up from Cheltenham—he was not doing any work then; his wife went to work—afterwards they went to 135, Hernies Street, and then to No. 48—I know his hand-writing; to the best of my belief these three papers are in his hand-writing—there is nothing on the envelope. (Read: "No. 1. August. 9th, 1884. July 18th 1883. Hannah Harris in my absence stole 10 Pounds, my little Boy fred, and goods, table covers table cloths knives and forks spoons China carpt orments close Baskets babys Basket and clothe suite of my black and White Shirt, Perambalate to come up To London To marry my daughter and bee a compaion for her in that noted Praed Street for six months, her told all nay Customers I was going to Be sold up and her what coming up To London as a Wide witch her 2 did and left me and my Little Children in disgrace—about the middle of September I found out where her was and I rote to her and told her To come back or elce I should sell the Home up—my answer when I wham To sell the Home up—her did not want to see me nor the Home again—her got drunk twice a day Before her went away. I told Mrs. Cotton to To let her have the Beer. But her Let her have it—my son george took To the children and I paid him for them as I was Bound to sell the Home up. What my little children Whants—know then I went to America To see my Brothers and then came Back I went and seen the children and Bought them some Bots and put them Strait—on the 16th January 84 I wrote to her respecting the children and gave her a week To answer it in. on the morrow I had a Letter To come and see her, I went like a sheep To the slaughter, my Friends told me my fortune Before I went. But I went for the sake of my children. When I got there my Little daughter Lizza wham there her said I have ginn Lizz my Box as her have not got one. She wham in service—from my sons will went to Live in Queens park that night things went on all right I furnished the house nicely they had no money clothe nor goods—my daughter allowed my little Boy to come and see me once a day I kept my children for a month to pleas them at my sons, I then sent for them and my furniture But the children whas a trouble to my daughter as her thought her had lost her mother

her said to her mother this is not like Tale St. is it then; her when out To work To annoy me I whanted her To go into some place of Business But no her would not lave her daughter so one morning I went home I found my all my rooms Partly unfurnished and took up stairs in my son in Laws rooms I then went To the first Brokers in the Harrow road and asked To come and take a invatare of what was there and he did—I called my daughter and asked her if her in is Presence would Bring the things down stairs, her said not without a Ploceman I asked my Wife if her Whas going to Bring the goods Back, her said no her hated the sight of little children—in a few nights after when her come home work my daughter came To the top of the Stairs and said mother you can come up here and have your supper, her said I shant till Harry comes home. I got up I said you had better go now and her whent, I sit in the kitchen till I heard her Locked in then I went to my Bed. I did not say a word next night when her came home my daughter answered the door her Pretended To Be talkin To Some one at the door Whilste my Wife whas creeping up stairs When it came Bedtime I walked up stain and knocked at the door, I whas lett in, I then you are there, my daughter rushed down stairs and fetched a Ploceman he ordered my wife To go To her own Bed, her went and me When I got there ther whas no sheets nor Pillow cases on the bed, I talked rather Loud To her about them, her jumped out of Bed and fetched a Ploceman, I told the Ploceman if he wanted a Job he could fetch my sheets and pillow cases. But he was senseble he went away. On the morrow her went and got a summons for me, her said I had sold my home up and up here Liveing on it, her said I had Been convicted 3 times and I Pulled her out of Bed which I did not allow my flesh To touch her, I whas never convicted nor the Couse of selling my home up When I came out of Prison I whent away. When I was in Prison her rut my children on the Parish and my son in law allowed the Little Boy to bee on the Parish. I hope you Will Punish him for it as he as kept the child till about 9 days ago When he whas sent To me half-starved and no close nor Boots When he Left me he was a fine Boy that ever the sun Shone on I Put him To school Before 12 month old But he has not Being since he has Being up here. I Hope the Lord will have mercy on them. There is 17s. owen at Chambers for washing 9 Cornvile manshions Witecar about 12. give this To my children. 15 Wilton Place. Lett my sister knowe. Mrs. Kemp, 27 Wilton Road W., Shepherds Bush, London."

Cross-examined. When he came from Cheltenham he had something over 100l. in the bank—he did not go to work after that, he went to America.


NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 17th, 1884.

For cases tried this day see Essex and Surrey cases.

THIRD COURT.Wednesday, September 11th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant..

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-879
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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879. HENRY BERWICK (19) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 13s.6d. from the person of Henry George Gatava Haydon.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-880
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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880. GEORGE ELLIOT (36) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. HICKS Prosecuted.

EMILY SMITH . I am a widow, and lire at 14, Cursitor Street, where I carry on a general shop—on 18th August the prisoner, whom I knew by eight, came into my shop about 10 minutes to 2 o'clock for a pennyworth of shag—he put down a shilling—I gave him the change and he walked out—directly he had gone I looked at the shilling, and found it was bad—there were no other shillings in the till—I gave it to the police—I went and looked for the prisoner out could not find him—next day, the 19th, a man came into my shop and tendered me a shilling, which I found was bad—I bit it, it felt very gritty, and I broke it in the tester—I laid down the pieces to show him it was bad, and he picked them up and walked out—I did not go out, as I had to serve another customer, but I looked through the window and saw him speak a word to the prisoner, who was waiting outside—I went to the door and looked, and he walked away at once—I did not see anything done—I had seen neither of them before that day—when I saw it I sent for a constable, gave him the shilling, and told him what had occurred, and gave a description, and James Eagle took the prisoner on the 20th, the day after, at the National Chambers, Took's Court, Cursitor Street—I was there when he was brought down, soon after 7 o'clock in the morning, and I identified him among the three men who were standing there—I said "That is the man"—he made no answer.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you through the window while I was serving the man—he spoke to you after you left the shop—I could no leave the shop to detain you—I came to the door and looked at you—you spoke and separated—he was a short stout man who came into the shop—you used to come in to purchase shag—I don't know that you ever gave me bad money before, but when I came back from the hospital on Tuesday I found a bad shill ng, and you had been in the shop.

JAMES EAGLE (City Policeman 306). On the morning of the 20th I received information, and about 7 o'clock went to the National Lodging House, Took's Court—I went upstairs and found the prisoner in bed asleep—I woke him up and asked him what his name was—he said "George Elliot"—I said "You are the man I want"—he said "What for?"—I said "Put your clothes on and come on the landing"—Mrs. Smith was downstairs—he came on the landing with a man from the same room, and one from the adjoining room, all dressed—I called Mrs. Smith up and said "Is either of these men the man that uttered the bad money to you on Monday or Tuesday?"—she said "Yes, that is the man," pointing to the prisoner—I said "Are you quite sure?"—she said "Yes"—I said "You had better come up and touch him"—she touched his coat and said "That is the man"—the prisoner said nothing, he said it was a mistake in answer to the charge—I searched him on the landing and found a good sixpence, a pencil, and one or two little things—Mrs. Smith handed me this bad shilling—in cross-examining Mrs. Smith he asked her why she did not give him into charge when she saw him in the company of the other man; she said because he did not wait there till she got a policeman.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This coin is bad—from the description of the other one I should say it was bad also.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not go into the woman's shop on Monday with this bad shilling."

The prisoner in his defence denied all knowledge of the other man, and stated that he did not go into the shop on the Monday, and had not a shilling then.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-881
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

Related Material

881. ELIZA BRISON (48) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. B. HICKS Prosecuted.

SELINA GRAY . I am John Graves wife—we keep a tobacconist's and fancy goods shop at 29, Widegate street, Bishopsgate street Without—the prisoner sells matches in the streets, and is an old customer of mine—about 14th June she came in to buy some boxes of matches—they came to 5 1/2 d. or 7 1/2 d.—she gate me a half-crown, and I gave her a shilling, sixpence, and some coppers change—I threw the half-crown into the till among some coppers; there was no other half-crown there—afterwards my daughter came in and opened the till to get change—I saw the half-crown on the top, she showed it to me—it was the one I had put in—I took her word that it was bad, and went to look for the prisoner, with the half-crown—I found her selling matches in Liverpool Street—I said You have given me a bad half-crown"—she said "Don't say anything, come home"—she said a gentleman had given it to her—she came home with me and gave me back the change and some of the matched, and I gave her back the bad half-crown, which was a good-looking one, but very light when I tried it—my daughter weighed it in the tester.

MARGARET ANN GRAY . I am the last witness's daughter—I know the prisoner as a customer—about 14th June she came in and got some matches; I was in the shop and saw her being served—some little time after I came into the shop to serve a customer and went to the till to get change and saw half-a-crown at the top, it was the only one in the till—I took it out and looked at it, it was bad—I weighed it in the scales with a good half-crown, which was the heaviest; the bad one was very light—I showed it to my mother, who put her things on and went out with the half-crown and returned with the prisoner—the half-crown was given back to her and she gave back all the change she had with her, 1s. 6d. and some coppers—the bad half-crown was not worn at all, and the one I weighed it with was in good condition.

FRANK CARRACEIRO . I assist my father, a confectioner, at 32, Bishopsgate Street Without—on 30th July, about twenty minutes pant 11 in the evening, the prisoner came in for a penny cake—I served her, she put down very gently half-a-crown in payment, I did not hear it ring I did not much like the look of it, and said "What do you want to do with this?"—she said "I want it changed as soon as possible"—I said "I will change you outside if you don't hook it"—she said "Give it to me back and I will take it back where I got it from"—she did not wait for an answer but ran out of the shop—I followed her up Widegate Street and spoke to a constable, who caught her—I said "That is the woman"—I gave the half-crown to the constable—she said "I had it given to me in Liverpool Street by a gentleman"—I am positive the prisoner is the woman.

WILLIAM INCE (City Policeman 911). On 30th July I was on duty in Widegate Street and saw the prisoner run past me; Carraceiro spoke to me shortly afterwards, and I ran after and caught her; she had ran

past me, but then walked till she saw me running, when she commenced to ran again—she spoke first and said "I cannot help it, I had it given to me, "she did not say by whom—she was searched, 5 1/2 d. and eleven boxes of cigar lights were found on her—at the station when charged she said "A gentleman gave it to me in Liverpool street for a box of lights.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This coin is bad—I should say if two coins in equal condition were weighed and one was very much lighter than the other, that that one was bad.

GUILTY of the second uttering. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Six weeks without Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 18th, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-882
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

882. ARTHUR COZENS (20) , Feloniously wounding James Buckingham, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.


JAMES BUCKNRGHAM . I am a cab driver, and live at 12, Stafford Mews—about 2 in the afternoon of 10th August I went into the coach-house there to put a perambulator in—it was my coach-house—I had some rabbits and chickens there, and a goat belonging to a friend of mine—the prisoner went into the stable with me—I am landlord of the whole place, but I let the stable and part of the coach-house to a man named Chandler—the prisoner was employed there; he did No. 1 at few shillings a week—I saw him deliberately kick the goat under the jaw and on the point of the elbow—I told him for that brutality I would not have him in my place, for his blackguarding my wife also—when I spoke about the goat he said he would serve me the same—I then went into the stable to lock him out—he was outside—I told him I would send for a policeman—he made a rush at the door and forced the door open and I pushed him away and locked the door—with that he made a deliberate stab—I did not perceive that he had anything in his hand at the time, but I closed with him I found he had got a knife—I felt that I was stabbed; the blood flowed down—I closed with him; he then made a second stab and cut me on the forehead, there are the marks now—the knife was open in his hand and it shut and cut my thumb in trying to take it away—I then got the stable fork and struck at him—he took the fork away and struck my wife on the head—I do not think I hit him, I was bleeding so I could not see—I then went for the police—the prisoner ran away and we could not find him for some time—about 5, or a quarter past 5, he came into the mews and he was taken into custody and charged—the doctor attended to my wounds and sewed them up at 5 o'clock—before the prisoner stabbed me he drew his hand from his coat, he did not take his coat off—he did not want me to fight him—he never mentioned about fighting—during the struggle he fell to the ground, and I was uppermost for a time—I cannot tell what became of the knife.

Cross-examined. There has not been any ill-feeling between me and the prisoner, I swear that—I have known him about nine or ten weeks, not longer—I took the stable about May—the woman is not my wife—after the assault I found the prisoner in the mews close to where this happened—he came down the mews with a lot more, threatening what they would do if I charged him—I thought of charging the prisoner with maliciously wounding me directly it was done—I let the stable and part of the coach-house to Mr. Chandler—I let the entire use to Mr. Chandler—I have a necessity of looking after my things, I have a right there, I do not let the whole—I have access to the stable and coach-house to feed my rabbits and chickens—the goat belonged to a friend of Mr. Chandler's as well as mine—the stables were let to him with the promise that I should keep my rabbits and the goat there—it was the prisoner's duty to go to these stables, he was in the employment of Mr. Chandler, I knew that—I was quite sober, I never get drunk—I was bound over to keep the peace some long time ago, not for an assault, it was a few words between me and another coachman when I was in service—on no other occasion—this was a female goat—I did not begin this fight by striking him over the head—I did not break the handle of the fork over him, he took the fork from me and struck my wife over the head and it broke in the fall—I did not strike him with the fork; I struck at him, I did not hit him at all—I used to go to the stables two or three times a day to attend to the goat and chickens—the prisoner saw me go there every time—he was well aware that I had a right there—I did not get my injuries by falling against a pail, no pail was near where I fell—I fell down with the prisoner; I fell on the top—I dare say I hit at him with the prongs of the fork—I did not make a second blow at him, for my eyes were covered with blood—I told the prisoner I would not have him there for his brutality to the goat and to my wife—his master had notice that if he continued to have the prisoner there he should not have his horses there.

Re-examined. I had two distinct wounds on my forehead, both of them were stitched up.

EMMA BUCKINGHAM . On 10th August, about 2 in the afternoon, I was coming downstairs and heard Buckingham tell the prisoner not to kick the goat—the prisoner said the goat had no right in the stable—Buckingham said it had, it belonged to the man that had the stables; and he said he would get a constable and have the prisoner put out, that he had been abusing me—the prisoner said he would not be put out, and then he began attacking Buckingham; he got hold of him and got him down, in fact they both fell—I did not see anything in the prisoner's hand at that time, but he came in afterwards and picked a knife up; I saw it lying in the stable in the place where the struggle had been—it was open—I saw the prisoner pick it up, put it in his pocket, and go out of the stable—I could not say for certain whether he shut it—I saw Buckingham's head bleeding dreadfully, and I said to him "You are bleeding, run and fetch a constable"—Buckingham got the stable fork to defend himself, and the prisoner wrenched it from him and struck me across the head with it, and I said "Oh, Jim, he has hit me"—while Buckingham was gone for a constable the prisoner came back again to take the key out of the stable door—I said "Don't take that away, Arthur, it has nothing to do with you"—he

gave me a push and said "You get oat of the way, you b——mare, it has nothing to do with you"—he then went away—he came again about 5 o'clock to see to his horses, and he was given in custody—the knife was a white handled pocket knife.

Cross-examined. We used to call the prisoner Arthur—we knew him very well; he was on very good terms with my husband—he had abused me a fortnight previous; I told my husband, he was very indignant about it I told him not to say anything to the prisoner, but to treat him with contempt—he abused me on the Saturday before the Sunday also; he would not let me get my water, he fastened the door up and said, "You shan't come this way, you b——"but I did not tell my husband of that till the Sunday morning—he was very much annoyed about it; I said, "Don't take any notice of him," and he said "Very well," but he did not seem to fall in with my peaceable way of looking at it—my husband used to call the prisoner Arthur—there was a pail in the stable underneath the window, about a yard and a half from the scene of this struggle—I was standing by the knife looking at it, but did not attempt to pick it up; I could have picked it up if I had liked—I was somewhat excited and flurried about this occurrence—when I came down Buckingham was remonstrating with the prisoner about the goat—I am quite certain I did not say to my husband, "Oh, Jim, you have hit me," meaning accidentally.

ROBERT BULLEN (Policeman X 526). About 2 o'clock in the afternoon I was sent for to the mews—I saw the prosecutor there about half-past 2—he appeared to have an injury on the forehead, it was bandaged up—at 5 o'clock the same afternoon I took the prisoner in custody at the news—I said I would charge him with assaulting the prosecutor, who was landing there—the prisoner said, "Very well, I will go with you"—nothing was said about what it was done with, or anything about a knife, at the mews, but the prosecutor said, when we were in the Malvern Road, that the prisoner had stabbed him with a knife—I did not hear the prisoner say, "I used no knife"—I went to the prisoner's house and searched, but found no knife there.

Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner's character, and found nothing against it—he said he had been assaulted as well—he went perfectly quiet with me to the station—he was sitting on a cab in the mews when I took him.

GEORGE ROBERT LAKE . I live at 72, Gloucester crescent, and am divisional surgeon—at half-past 5 on the evening this occurred I went to the station and found the prosecutor there—I examined his forehead—I found two incised wounds about an inch in length and about three-quarters of an inch apart, two separate and distinct wounds, on the left-hand side of the forehead—there had been excessive bleeding, which had covered the man's face and chest—I examined the upper wound, some part of an artery had been divided; the wound went right down to the bone—I stitched it up and attended to him, and he went away—he is all right now—I should not call them dangerous wounds—I saw him again just as I was leaving the station; he was brought back again, and I found that my stitches and patch had all been knocked off from a fresh assault—he had been assaulted by some other man as he went into the mews again—they are such wounds as might have been inflicted by a stab by an open knife.

Cross-examined. I don't think these wounds could have been caused by striking against the edge of a pail; there would have been sore bruising on the edges of the wound—I should not think that both wounds could have been caused by one fall; it must have been something sharper than the edge of a pail, I think—it is my opinion that if he had struck a stone there would have been more bruising about the wound.

Witnesses for the Defence.

THOMAS HINES . I am a coal porter residing at 24, Stafford Mews, Kilburn—on 10th August I was in my house, which is right opposite No. 12—I heard them rowing; I heard Buckingham say he would throw Cozens out of the stable—Cozens said he had as much right there as Buckingham had, and with that I went downstairs—as I got there I heard Buckingham say, "I will have you turned out, I will fetch a policeman"—just as I came downstairs I saw Buckingham turn back and attempt to throw the prisoner out—the prisoner, of course, had a struggle and tried to defend himself—Buckingham got him on his back on the floor; he got on him, keeping on him with his knees, and punching him in the face—Buckingham and Cozens got on their feet again, and his wife interfered, and stood at the door and caught hold of Cozens by the hair of his head—she had a jug in her hand, and while she was pulling his hair Buckingham turned round and took a pitchfork with his right hand, and slashed it ever his head as hard as he could hit him, and broke it asunder; he hit him on the left temple—his wife rushed in, and he made an attempt to strike Cozens again, and Buckingham slashed her somewhere with the fork, I could not say where, I thought it was on the shoulder; it was like as if he hit at Cozens, and she rushed in, and it slipped over Cozens' head and hit her somewhere on the shoulder—I heard her say, "Oh, Jim, you have hit me"—with that he came out with his head bleeding—he said, "Now I will lock you up," and he went off for a policeman—that was all I saw—I did not see how Buckingham had come to bleed. I supposed it was from the fall—I did not see any knife.

Cross-examined. I was not called before the Magistrate as a witness—I was not at the Court—I did not know what the man was charged with till the next day; I knew he was taken to the station-house on the night of the assault, but I did not know what he was charged for—I did not think it was necessary to go before the Magistrate and state what I had seen, I thought it was only a common assault—the prosecutor knocked the prisoner about very brutally—Buckingham looked like a savage man—the prisoner's face did not bleed—I did not see any marks on the prisoner's face; I saw a lump on his face where he had been hit with the fork.

JAMES MEAD . I am an oil merchant, of 23. Stafford Mews—on Sunday, the 10th of August, about 2 o'clock, I saw the prisoner come down the mews to attend to his master's horses—the prosecutor was there, and he said "I forbid you to go in the stables"—the prisoner said "You dare not forbid me to go in; I am going to attend to my master's horses—Buckingham said "If you do I will throw you out, they are my premises"—the prisoner attempted to go in; they had a scuffle, and fell down; the prosecutor trying to throw the prisoner out, and the prisoner would go in—they fell down, the prisoner at the bottom and the prosecutor on top,

and as he fell he hit his head on a pail that stood there—I saw the pail, and I saw him hit his head.

By the COURT. I only saw him hit his head once—it was a galvanized pail; it had a metal handle to it—I could swear there was not a knife used.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the pail before—I am prepared to swear there was no knife there—I was not examined as a witness before the Magistrate—I heard this man was in custody on the Monday, after he west before the Magistrate, but I did not know what he was charged with—I live in the same mews—I supposed he would be taken before the Magistrate next morning—I did not hear anything said about a goat.

By the COURT. His forehead struck the pail somewhere just here (The witness put his hand on the right side)—I saw his head as we came out of the stables, the blood was all over his face, whether he smeared it over or whether it ran all over I don't know—I saw a small cut on his forehead.

ALBERT SMART . I am a cab proprietor, of 8, Stafford Mews—on Sunday, the 10th, I saw prisoner come very rapidly out of the stables shortly after Buckingham had entered the Fame stable; then before he could recover himself he ran back towards the stable, and with both hands spread out he pushed the door open which had been shut, then I went from my door to see what was the matter, and when I got there the prisoner was on the ground—I stood at the door; the prisoner was just inside the stable lying on his back on the ground, and Buckingham on top of him, down also—then he managed to get up and rushed towards Buckingham, and he stepped back three or four paces and struck him several times in the face with his fist as hard as he could strike, whereupon Buckingham at once turned round to his left side, and took Hold of a pitchfork which was standing against the partition of the stable, and with both hands he struck the prisoner straight down across the head with it.

By the COURT. It seemed as if he was trying to cut his head in two; then Buckingham stepped farther back from the stable, and the prisoner made another rush at him the same as before, but the woman Buckingham ran into the stables, and tried to get between them to separate them, and in so doing she received a blow from the handle of the pitch-fork, which I suppose was meant for the prisoner—then the woman rushed out into the mews again with her hand up to the back of her head saying he had hit her, meaning, I suppose, the prisoner had hit her—the prisoner came out following her—Buckingham then came to the door, and said, speaking to the prisoner, "Now I will lock you up"—the prisoner did not go back into the stable any more—when Buckingham came to the door I did not see anything the matter with him—I was facing him.

Cross-examined. I was not called before the Magistrate—I knew the prisoner was locked up that night—I went up to give my evidence should it be wanted—I was in the Court, outside—the prisoner was not represented by a solicitor named Abraham at that Court—he did not call any witnesses; he did not call me—this blow that was struck on the prisoner's head was done with the prong part of the fork as hard as he could hit, as far as I could see—I did not notice any blood on the prisoner at all.

GEORGE ALFRED CHANDLER . I am a cab proprietor—I rent this stable—I did not see anything of this occurrence—the prisoner had been in my

employment for some time—he was a very steady, sober, and obliging young man.

Cross-examined. Mr. Buckingham had made a complaint to me that the prisoner had been ill-treating the horses—he has always been along with horses.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-883
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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883. HANNAH COX (43) was charged, on the Coroner's Inquisition only, with the manslaughter of Hannah Cox, jun.

The Grand Jury having ignored the bill, MR. POLAND, for the prosecution, offered no evidence on the Inquisition.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-884
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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884. CHARLES BARTON HALL and WILLIAM MALONY , Feloniously setting fire to a stack of hay, the property of John Warren.

MR. ISAACSON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 18th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-885
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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885. WILLIAM BAETON (35) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a letter purporting to be addressed to himself as Captain W Barton by Robert Henry Mead, the under-secretary of Her Majesty's Secretary of State for the colonies.— Four Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-886
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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886. CHARLES MALBY (37) to libel on Frederick Wood.— To enter into his own recognisances of 501 to come up for judgment when called upon, and to keep the the peace for six months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-887
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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887. WALTER BOARNN SALISBUEY (29) to embezzling three sums of 1l., received by him on account of Charles Digby Harrod, his master.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-888
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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888. JOHN HARE , Libel on William Ayckbourne.



WILLIAM MARTIN . I am employed by the London General Omnibus Company as foreman of the yard of the Windsor Castle, Hammersmith—Ayckbourne was a driver of an omnibus for the Company called Y Y G up to 11th June last—all our omnibuses are ear-marked in that way—on 11th June I had a report from Mr. Hare and directions to suspend him—I showed Ayckbourne the report a few days after I received it—Mr. Hare is the road manager of my district.

Cross-examined. I received the letter on 11th June, the same day I discharged Ayckbourne—I read the letter to him about five days afterwards—the letter was dated 11th June—the letter said "Suspend Y Y G, Y Y H, and Y Y I. Mr. Farrell says they are two as big blackguards as you have working for you"—that is all there was in the letter—there was a signature to it, "Yours truly, J. N. Hare"—it was addressed to me—I only have control over the drivers—Mir. Hare has control over the whole thing—when I am told to suspend a man that means to stop him from working till he sees Mr. Hare—when suspended we sometimes give a man his licence back—we do not write "Discharged" upon his licence and send him away—I wrote it upon Ayckbourne's licence because I thought he would be discharged, but if he had come back he would

have gone to work—if he had come to work I should have had to have taken "Discharged" out of the licence—I did not suspend Y Y H be-cause I had not a man to put in his place—I suspended Y Y I—his name was Lilley—before the Magistrate I said X X I in mistake for Y Y I—I had only two men to fill three places—Ayckbourne had been in the Company's employment eight months, the other men about three or four months—I discharged Ayckbourne because he was the first, Y Y I—I afterwards saw Mr. Hare—he told me I had made a mistake in the man, I had not then the letter stating Y Y G—I tore the letter up three or four minutes after Ayckbourne had read it—I think he read it on the Monday—between Wednesday, the 11th, and Monday I had seen Mr. Hare—I had torn the letter up—I tear up all reports—Mr. Hare said he would meet the man on the Saturday—Ayckbourne asked me to take care of the letter—I would not give it to him—I tore it up five minutes after he had gone away—I did not know Ayckbourne had written a copy of it—I cannot say how many times he read it over—I was busy at the time—he did not write a copy in my presence—Ayckbourne did his business well, I had no fault to find with him—I went with Mr. Hare to see Mr. Church, the managing director, on Tuesday, at the fortnightly meeting—Mr. Church asked me to write for Ayckbourne to meet us, with a view to his being taken back again—Mr. Church said I had discharged the wrong man—I did not deny it.

Re-examined. I did not discharge Ayckbourne, I suspended him in consequence of my instructions—I did not see Ayckbourne nor Hare at the appointment which was made with Hare and myself to meet Ayck-bourne at Hammersmith—I gave the letter to Ayokbourne out of my pocket-book and out of the envelope to look at—I did not point out any portion to him—he would have been reinstated if he had met us on the Saturday—I had seen him frequently before and after the Saturday.

By the JURY. Ayckbourne had the letter three or four minutes.

WILLIAM AYCKBOURNE . I have been an omuibus driver all my life—I have a clean licence—I have been in the service of the London General Omnibus Company nine months about, at Hammersmith—I was in their service before I went to Hammersmith—I was driving the omnibus Y Y G on 5th June—on 11th June I was bringing the omnibus out of the yard and Mr. Martin called me off the box—I got down, he put another man up—I asked him what was the matter—he said "You are discharged"—he gave me my licence marked—in consequence of what he said I went to Mr. Hare and asked him the reason I was discharged—he denied all knowledge of it, he said it was no fault of his—I made an appointment to meet Mr. Hare in the yard with Mr. Martin—I had not then seen the letter—when Martin showed me the letter I left him, then we made an appointment for Saturday—I had the letter in my possession and took a copy of it—I produce my note-book with the copy: "Sir,—Mr. Farrell says that the driver of Y Y G omnibus he has known for a number of years as one of the greatest scoundrels that he ever knew of, having been employed all over London, and kicked out from every-where through his blackguard conduct. In fact he is the greatest vaga-bond conceivable, so this is the reason that I discharge him immediately, he not being a proper person to drive an omnibus of the Company. Yours, John Hare, Walham Green. "Every word of that is untrue—I saw Mr. Hare and told him that he had written a bad letter about me, and I was

discharged—he denied writing against me—he knew I was Y Y G—he did not suggest he had made a mistake and offer to reinstate me, only at Hammersmith Police-court—I made an appointment to meet Mr. Hare on the Saturday—I went to the yard at 11 and left at 5 o'clock—I saw Mr. Farrell—I afterwards saw Mr. Hare, and asked him if I could go to work again—he said I had been discharged by mistake—he did not send me back to work.

Cross-examined. Mr. Hare said he had nothing to do with my dismissal, it must be something wrong with my horses—I went to Martin on the Saturday—I was in the neighbourhood of the yard—no arrangement was made for me to go to the yard on the Tuesday—I went on the Monday—I saw Martin—Hare said something of this kind "You ought to have come to my office"—I said "I was outside"—he said "I do not do my business at a public-house; I was at the office, you knew where to find me"—I saw the advertisement of the Defence Associaation in the papers—a letter was written on my behalf from their office, 64, Finsbury Pavement. (Letter read of June 19th threatening proceedings.)—the copy of the letter written against me which is in my book is correct as near as I can possibly remember; it referred to Y Y H in the first part of the letter—I swore at the police-court something was in the letter which did not concern me, but referred to Y Y I.

By MR. LYNCH. The letter was open on the side meant for me, and Martin said "Read that."

MR. E. CLARKE submitted the libel was not proved, the two witnesses' accounts of the libel being entirely different; he referred to the case of Rainey v. Bravo, a Privy Council case, to show that the exact words must be proved where secondary evidence was relied upon arid no original was produced. MR. LYNCH urged that the case was for the Jury. The COURT held the libel was not proved; that the whole thing was a mistake, the words not being meant for the prosecutor.


THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 18th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-889
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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889. HENRY COOPER and HENRY SIMMONS PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Richard Clark, and stealing a quantity of cigars, 1 1/2 lb. of tobacco, and 6s. 6d. in money. COOPER— Nine Months' Hard Labour. SIMMONS— Six Months' Hard Labour.

For other cases tried this day see Essex, Kent, and Surrey casts.

OLD COURT.—Friday, September 19th, and Saturday, September 20th. 1884

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-890
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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890. THOMAS HENRY ORROCK (21) was indicted for the wilful murder of George Cole on 1st December, 1882.



CRESWELL WELLS (Police Inspector K). I understand making plans—I made the plan in this case, showing the Baptist Chapel, Ashwin Street, Beech Street, and the immediate neighbourhood; the plan is correct, it

is made to a scale of 1 inch to 20 feet—the district is Shoreditch, Kings-land Road, and Stoke Newington—there is another little plan in the margin which is 4 inches to the mile.

ELIZA ANN SHEPHERD . I live at 3, Ashwin Street, Dalston—at the corner of Ashwin Street and Beech Street there is a Baptist Chapel; the front part is in Ashwin Street, and between my house and the chapel there are two houses—I keep the refreshment rooms at Dalston station—on Friday night, 1st December, 1882, about a quarter-past 10, I left my home to go to the Dalston station; as I came out of my door I saw two men struggling in the road close to the pavement, right opposite my house—I could not see their faces, but I saw one was a policeman in uniform—as I was closing the door I heard a shot fired, and immediately afterwards I heard a second shot fired—I was partly down the steps then—I was so frightened that I rang the bell and wont back into my house—I only heard two shots—I saw that the other man had a wide-awake hat on his head—after I heard the first shot fired I heard the policeman cry out "Help"—I was in my house about twenty minutes, and I then went to my place of business as quick as I could—it was a dark wideawake hat.

Cross-examined. The fog was just clearing away then—there was not so much fog when I went out a quarter of an hour afterwards as at first—the fog was clearing away when I went out first—it had been a foggy day—I did not see any other person in the street—I could see across the road when I came out—I said before the Magistrate that I could give no description of the other man.

ELIZABETH BUCKNELL . I live at Reeves' Cottage, Beech Street, Dalston—Reeves' colour works are at the corner, the cottage is opposite the side of the chapel—on the night of 1st December, 1882, about five minutes past 10, I went out to fetch the sapper beer—I passed by the chapel and down Ashwin Street, and along Dalston Lane to the Crown and Castle; I got my beer and was returning the same way back when my attention was first attracted by a policeman who had got hold of a man by the collar—I was then outside the coffee-house—I had turned the corner from Dalston Lane into Ashwin Street—the policeman was in the middle of the road, opposite the Railway Tavern, holding the man, and they then commenced struggling—they struggled back towards the chapel—they kept struggling till they got to No. 3, and then I heard a shot fired—I could see the reflection—it was then about a quarter-past 10—they then struggled again still down towards the chapel till they got to No. 7, which is next door to the chapel, and then another shot was fired—they struggled again till they got outside the chapel between the two doors, and then the constable fell—I did not hear either of them speak till the constable fell, then he cried out for help four times—I then turned back and went out of Ashwin Street into Dalston Lane to get assistance—up to that time I had seen nobody in Ashwin Street but the policeman and the man struggling with him—I did not see Mrs. Shepherd—as I was going out of Ashwin Street I heard two more shots fired—that was about two minutes afterwards—I had just then spoken to two policemen outside the oilshop; I had got there when I heard the last of the shots—the man that was struggling with the constable was wearing a long dark overcoat and a light pair of trousers, and it seemed to me like a

hard felt hat—it was black—I should think the man's height was about 5 feet 2 or 3, and his age by what I could see of him was about twenty-two or twenty-three—I could not tell how many yards I was from them when the struggle was going on—it was a foggy night—I spoke to these constables and told them all I had seen, and they at once returned into Ashwin Street—I did not go back, I stopped in Dalston Lane for some time, and then went home—the constable Cole had not then been removed to the hospital; he was in Beech Street—I saw him lying opposite Paternoster's gates—there were a number of people there then—afterwards I went to Clerkenwell Prison and saw a number of people there, among them was the prisoner—I did not recognise him—I cannot say one way or the other whether he is the man or not.

Cross-examined. I was unable to recognise any person there—I could hardly tell you the time when I first made a statement to any one of what I had seen on this night—I think the police came to me on the second day afterwards, and I told them something, and they took it down; I could hardly tell you whether it was a policeman or inspector—I had seen the big bills offering a reward of 200l.—they were issued after I had seen the policeman (The bill was dated 4th December)—when I made the original statement I gave a description of the man I had seen, as to the dress he was wearing—I was shown a hat—it seemed to me that the man on that night was wearing a hard felt hat; the hat I was shown was a soft felt hat—I know Sergeant Cobb; I almost forget now if he was the officer who took down my statement—I cannot say if the officer who took down my statement said that he had seen a man with a long coat on at half-past 9 standing at the corner.

ROBERT BUCKNELL . I am the father of the last witness, and live at Reeves' Cottage, Dalston—on this night, 1st December, my daughter went for some beer—I was in the back kitchen; it was about a quarter-past 10—I heard something which I thought was the gates at the next place; I heard it twice—I thought it was two sharp strikes on the gates next door, Mr. Paternoster's stables—I went to the door to see what was the matter, and saw a man run by; he was running from Ashwin Street towards Abbot Street—I saw him turn the corner of Beech Street—I then saw some policemen come round from Ashwin Street—I saw a policeman lying in the gutter just outside the stables—the man who ran by me had light trousers on and a long dark coat; he went by me very rapidly—I can give no further description of the man.

Cross-examined. I made my statement to a constable in the first instance—I think there was a sergeant and constable together—I did not know Sergeant Cobb then, I do now; I saw him at the police-court—Inspector Glass wrote down a statement which I made, about a fortnight or three weeks ago—I mentioned to a constable the same night that a man ran past me wearing a long black overcoat—I had not seen my daughter then—I did not see his face at all—I do not know whether he had a hat on or not.

Re-examined. I should think his height was about 5 feet 3 or 4 inches.

PATRICK HART (Policeman N 381). On this Friday night, 1st December, 1882, I was on duty in uniform in Dalston Lane, a brother constable was with me named Harford—we were near Ashwin Street when I heard the report of firearms—it was then about 10.15—I heard three shots; there

was a little time between the first and second, but no time between the second and third—the sound of the shots came from Ashwin Street—I and my brother constable at once went in that direction—we met a female and she something—I did not know her at the time; she was at the corner of Ashwin Street and Dalston Lane—I should not know her now to be the same woman—I and my brother constable at once went down Aahwin Street from what she said to us, and saw Constable Cole there—when I first entered Ashwin Street I saw no one, only several persons standing at their doors on the right-hand side—we passed the chapel and vent opposite Paternoster's stable gates—I don't remember seeing any one in the street—when I got there I found my brother constable Cole, N 83, lying on his back, his head near the gutter, his feet towards the stables—I saw blood on him, and he appeared to be dying—I left Har-ford with him and I ran along Beech Street towards Abbott Street, to see if I could see any one—I did not see any one; then I returned to where Cole was—assistance was obtained, and he was carried to the German Hospital—he was alive then.

JAMES HARFORD . I live at 5, Whitcombe Parade, Bath, and am an upholsterer—in December, 1882, I was a police-constable of the Metro-politan Police; my number was 411, of the N Division—on 1st December, 1882, was on duty in the neighbourhood of Dalston—I was returning off duty about 20 minutes past 10, and Hart with me—when passing the end of Ashwin Street I heard a report of firearms, which I at first took to be a fog signal—I first heard it in Dalston Lane; I heard three reports altogether—besides the reports I heard a seream immediately after the third shot—I went up Ashwin Street to the spot just opposite the stables, and there found Constable Cole lying in the gutter on his back, with his head in the gutter; he had his helmet off—he was removed to the German Hospital—I then returned with, another constable, named Buswell, to Ashwin Street, and searched—next to the chapel there is a low wall, such as a person could jump over quite easily, and immediately on the other side there is a low window of the chapel—I got over the wall and searched there, and under the window I found two chisels and a wedge—these are the ones (produced)—they were on the ground—one is a 1 1/2—inch chisel, the other is called a cold chisel—they were lying down on the ground inside the recess—later on at night I and Inspector Hammond found a hat in Ashwin Street—I saw Hammond find it about 12 yards from the place where Cole's body was lying.

Cross-examined. The hat was found in Ashwin Street—Ashwin Street runs from Dalston Lane into Beech Street.

By the COURT. I know Paternoster's stables—the hat was found in Ashwin Street, nearly opposite the recess, where I found the tools—that would be 12 yards from where the body of Cole was lying.

ROBERT HAMMOND (Police Inspector N). On Friday night, 1st December, 1882, about 10.20, I received information about this matter, and went to Ashwin Street—I got there about 10.25; the constable, Cole, was then being carried along to the station—I went up to the place outside Paternoster's stables—I found there a large patch of blood—I then made a search about there and found this black soft felt hat (produced)—I found it on the ground—there was a large patch of blood in the gutter opposite Paternoster's stables, and opposite the gates I found this hat at the junction of Beech Street and Ashwin Street, not exactly opposite

the gales—the hat was a few feet from the patch of blood; it was in the roadway—I took it to the police-station, and it has been in the possession of the police ever since.

Cross-examined. The hat was found in the roadway opposite the recess, in Ashwin Street, where the chisels were found—I am sure about the place where the hat was found.

FREDERICK COBB (Police Sergeant N). On Friday night, 1st December, 1882, I was passing through Abbott Street down Beech Street at about a quarter-past 9 with a constable named Brockwell—I noticed a man alone, standing about three or four yards from a lamppost—he was looking towards the Baptist Chapel door—I saw his face—I was coming off duty—I spoke to Brockwell, and I went past the chapel and home to the police-station, and I went home to bed from the police-station—after I had been in bed, at a quarter-past 11 Brockwell came to me, and in consequence of what he said I got up, and subsequently I gave a description of the man that I had seen standing by the lamp in Beech Street, and it was from that description that the handbills were published—this is a handbill (produced)—this description is correct. (The bill was put in and read in part; it gave a description of the murderer: age 21, height 5 feet 2 inches, complexion pale, round face, slight mistake; dress, long dark overcoat, light trousers.) I gave a description of the hat; the description was a black soft felt hat—on 1st February, 1884, I went to Coldbath Fields Prison—I went in with a warder—there were about seven men there in one of the large waiting-rooms of the prison—I went there for the purpose of seeing if I could identify the man I had seen on the night of 1st December, 1882—I first picked out a man on the left of the prisoner, he looked very much like him, but as the men were filing out of the room I caught the prisoner's side face, and I at once told Inspector Glass—I had not seen his side face before—the prisoner could not hear what I said—they were all taken out, and brought back again and placed in a different position, and I then picked the prisoner out—I have since had opportunities of seeing him, and I am positive he is the man I saw on that night—the day after 1st December;, 1882, I went with another police-constable to Ashwin Street, and there found under the stonework of the doorway of No. 3 and 6, 7 feet from the top stone step, a mark on a brick—it looked like a bullet mark—I found a similar mark by the gutter pipe between Nos. 3 and 5, Ashwin Street; they adjoin, and underneath the place on No. 3 where I saw the bullet mark there was some brickdust, as if just cut away—I am accustomed to pistol shots; in my opinion a pistol shot would make a mark like that—in consequence of a statement made by two men, Frederick Miles and Henry Mortimer, I went on 28th July, 1884, with Miles to Tottenham Marshes, and he pointed out a tree to me with a small wooden post in front of it—the spot where the tree is is halfway between the Ferry Boat public-house and the railway bridge over the Lea, in consequence of a statement made by Miles to me I examined the tree, and from it, about 4 feet from the ground, I cut out this bullet with a chisel (This bullet was is a packet marked)—I went the same day, in consequence of what Miles said to me, to a place called Vicarage Road to endeavour to find the place where the pistol was bought, but I failed to do so—Nos. 21 and 23 were empty houses—it took me 10 minutes to run from Reeves Cottage to

No. 80, Bayston Road, where the prisoner lived; I took two routes, and it took me 13 minutes to walk it.

Cross-examined. I was in bed at the time Cole met with his death—it was a quarter-past 9 when I saw this man in Beech Street—the description of the man is correct that I saw in Beech Street at a quarter-past 9.

Re-examined. No. 23, Vicarage Road was an empty house—I went to No. 21; that was occupied.

THOMAS BROCKWELL (Police Sergeant N). I was passing through Ash win Street on the night of 1st December about 10 minutes past 9—Sergeant Cobb was with me—I saw a short young man with a greatcoat on standing a short distance from Abbott Street in Beech Street on the pavement—later that night I was at the Dalston Police-station; I had then heard of what had happened to Cole; he had been taken off to the German Hospital—I saw this truncheon (produced) lying on the table at the station; the belt was attached to it—I knew it was the truncheon of Constable Cole 83 N—when I looked at it I saw there was a hole in the case—I at once opened the case and took out the truncheon, and I saw on the truncheon opposite the hole an indentation—I then turned the case up, and this small bullet (No. 2, produced) fell out—it has been in the possession of the police ever since.

GEORGE LICHTENBERG , M.R.C.P. I am surgeon at the German Hospital—on 1st December, 1882, I was at the German Hospital—Mr. Krauss was house surgeon—on 2nd December I saw the dead body of Cole brought in, and Mr. Krauss in my presence made a post-mortem—there was a pistol-shot wound in the head over the back at the left ear, the bullet lodging in the brain; the bullet penetrated the skull—I saw Mr. Krauss extract a small pistol bullet similar to the two bullets that have been shown to me—there was a second wound at the back of the head fracturing the skull, which might have been caused by a fall on the pavement—Mr. Krauss has left this country—in my opinion the pistol-shot wound was the cause of death.

WILLIAM PARSONS (Police Inspector N). I was present on 4th December at the inquest that was held on the body of George Cole—he was a constable, about 27 years of age—at that inquest Dr. Krauss, of the German Hospital, was examined, and I saw him produce the small pistol bullet which I took charge of; that has been in the possession of the police ever since, as the one he extracted.

JOSE MACLELLAN . I live at 103, Liverpool Road, Islington—in October and December, 1882, I was living at 21, Vicarage Road, Tottenham—I possessed a small six-chambered, nickel-plated pin-fire revolver—I inserted this advertisement in the Exchange and Mart paper, Saturday, 4th October, 1882: "New pocket revolver, nickel, pin-fire, spring-acting, in Japan case, with 25 cartridges, price 10s., a bargain; J. Maclellan, 21, Vicarage Road, Tottenham, London"—I subsequently sold the revolver—I left 21, Vicarage Road in December, 1882, about the commencement, I cannot say the date.

MARY ANN MACLELLAN . I am the wife of Jose Maclellan—in October, 1882, we were living at 21, Vicarage Road, when an advertisement was inserted in the Exchange and Mart—in that month, shortly after the advertisement appeared, a young man called on us at 21, Vicarage Road—he brought a copy of the" advertisement with him, and he bought the

pistol for 10s. and had 25 cartridges—they were pin-fire cartridges like that (produced)—he paid the 10s., and took the pistol and cartridges and went away with it—I have a slight recollection of him, but I could not swear to the man.

By the COURT. I have a slight recollection of his side face, that is all I recollect—I was ill at the time.

Cross-examined. I think I said at Bow Street something about his side face—I said that the prisoner looked something like him, but I could not swear to him.

Re-examined. There was some bargaining about the pistol; the price was 10s. 6d., he asked us to take off the 6d., which we did—it was about mid-day.

AUGUSTUS WILSON . I live at 13F, Dalaton Lane, and am a photographer—a 1 1/4-inch chisel was brought to me by Sergeant Cobb some time in August last—this is not it—I photographed it in his presence—I have no recollection of seeing a mark on the other side of the chisel—he waited while I photographed it, and took it away with him afterwards—I saw a chisel before the Magistrate, and I was asked if that was the same one, and I said it was—I don't think this is it—I don't think this photograph was taken from this chisel, but I could tell much better if I had it under my own glass. (The witness was directed to examine it with his own glass.)

FREDERICK COBB (Re-examined). In August last I took that chisel to Mr. Wilson's to have it photographed, and I waited while he did it—he photographed the side as it appears in the photograph—I saw him do it—it is the same chisel as was shown to Mr. Wilson at Bow Street.

Cross-examined. There are several chisels in connection with this matter—they have all been locked up since the inquiry—they were brought here this morning in a cab—I had this chisel in my pocket.

ARTHUR EVANS . I live at 37, Britannia Street, City Road, and am 28 years of age—I am a cabinet-maker by trade—I have known the prisoner between 10 and 12 years by working in Pottinger's shop with him—on Friday, 1st December, 1882, I had work to go to, but I had been on the drink all the week—on 1st December, 1882, the day on which the policeman was shot, I was at a public-house called the London Apprentice between 12 and 1 o'clock—that is by Old Street, Curtain Road—I met the prisoner there, and a young man named Frederick Miles was there, and we three were together—I know a young man named Mortimer; at that time he was living at Coxhall Street, Bridport Place, Hoxton—we all went in that direction, the prisoner was outside—later in the day, between 6 and 7, me, Miles, and the prisoner went to the Star and Garter, at the corner of the Kingsland Road and Ball's Pond Road; afterwards, later in the evening, between 7 and 8 o'clock, we went to the Walford—the prisoner and Miles went away then; they returned later—I stayed there—I had about three-quarters of an hour's sleep there—I saw these chisels outside the Walford—Orrock had the 1 1/4-inch one, and I believe Miles carried the other one—Miles brought it there, but I believe Orrock carried it—Miles had it when I first saw it; he gave it to Orrock tied up in a red handkerchief along with the 1 1/4-inch one—I did not see any wedge—there was also a 3/4 and 7/8-inch chisel—I had those; Orrock gave them to me—I gave the 3/4-inch one back to Orrock—the 3/4 and 7/8-inch ones were shown me before the Magistrate—I never gave the 7/8-inch chisel back to

Orrock; I broke it at my work—I am not sure whether Orrock used to have his chisels ground at Preston's, in Old Street—they were fetched from there that afternoon—I can't tell whether it was Orrock or Miles who fetched them—this broken chisel, after I broke it, I left at Pottinger's, where I had been employed—Preston's is a place where they grind tools—I first saw a revolver which Orrock had outside the Walford; he showed it to me—it was an electro pin-fire revolver; you could put it in your waistcoat pocket—I had it in my hand and nearly shot him with it—I did not know before that night that he had a revolver—he said he had it in case any one interfered with him—I did not see whether it was loaded—I did not see any marks—Orrock said he was going round to the chapel; that was when we were in the London Apprentice, before we got to the Walford—he did not say then what he was going to do there; he did not gay what chapel—we left the Walford about 9 o'clock, and Miles, Orrock, and I went to the Star and Garter, at the corner of Ball's Pond Road and Kingsland Road, and afterwards we went to the Railway Tavern, at the corner of Ashwin Street—we got there through Abbott Street, down Beech Street, and past the chapel—as we passed the chapel Orrock said he was going to get into the chapel to fetch the sacrament plate; he said he could smash it up and carry it out under his coat—as we passed I noticed the room underneath the chapel was open, and was being used for a meeting, and the prisoner stopped to speak to a girl at the door; I waited opposite—then we three went to the Railway Tavern, and met Miles there; he had gone on first—we all came out of the Railway Tavern and went to the Star and Garter and had a drop more beer—he then said "I must have a lamp on the job;" so we went to a lamp-shop in High Street, Kings-land—I believe the prisoner went in—I shortly afterwards saw Orrock with a bull's-eye lamp; he said it cost 7d. or 8d.—we all three then went back to the Star and Garter—me and Orrock came out, and we left Miles in there—we had a walk round, up towards the school to the chapel again—we went round the same way as before—the prisoner said there were too many people about, he could not do the job then—he said he was going to get over the gates or else through a window; that he had opened the landing window when he spoke to the girl; that she went downstairs, and he went and opened the window—I then went to the Railway Tavern, where I saw Miles again—Orrock did not go with me, I left him by the chapel, under the wall next the doorway where the window is—I don't know whether it is in Ashwin Street, or what street it was; it was not far from the Railway Tavern, it was by the little wall—at that time he had the 1 1/4-inch chisel and the cold chisel, I still kept the 7/8-inch one—I didn't see any wedge—he was dressed in a long black, overcoat and light trousers, and wide-awake hat, like this produced—I had it in my hand during the day, and tried it on me, and it fitted me—this is the one—I spoke to him about his appearance, and said he looked like a b——parson—before he left me he said he would take the things that he got from the chapel to his brother-in-law, Tilley, and he would melt them down—after I had been with Miles in the Railway Tavern a little time we heard something going off; I thought it was fog-signals, being a foggy night—I heard three shots—I then came out of the house and walked down the street, and saw the policeman lying on his back opposite the gates of Paternoster's stables—there were some policemen there—Miles asked Sergeant Ash if he should go for a doctor—he did not go; they said they

would take the poor fellow to the hospital—I then went home—Miles also went away—I left him near his home, at the top of Wellington Road—I didn't know where he lived—I saw nothing of the prisoner after the shots were fired—I didn't wait to see the constable taken to the hospital—next morning, Saturday, I saw Miles—I next saw the prisoner when he came round; it must have been about three weeks afterwards, I think I can't exactly tell.

By the COURT. The prisoner did not want me to go along with him at first when this robbery wan contemplated—I was to have a shilling or two next day if it came off all game; I was not to do anything.

By MR. POLAND. It was on a Saturday afternoon about three weeks afterwards when the prisoner came to me where I worked at Blade and Friar's, cabinetmakers, 12A, Hoxton Street—I was working there then—young Pottinger was with him—he came round for some money that I had for some tickets from his father—we had a benefit at the Cambridge—before that I had seen these bills about, but I never took any notice of them—I can read—I never read them, I read a bit in the papers about it—I could not give him any money that Saturday; I asked him to treat me, and took him to the Adam and Eve, and he stood a pot of four ale there—the first filing he said was "Are you going to put me away?"—I said "No"—he said "There is 200l. for you if you do"—I said "No, I wouldn't for 1,000l."—I knew that 200l. was offered, it was in the paper—the prisoner said Miles had taken an oath that if I rucked he would put my light out, and he asked me if I would do the same—I hesitated a little while, and said I would—rucked means rounded—nothing more was said—I think we parted then—he said he had just got married, or was going to be married; I know he was married shortly afterwards—young Pottinger was present when this conversation took place, but I don't think he heard it—I next saw the prisoner on a tramcar some time after, coming from Tottenham, we were both coming together to our work—he said "I went to see the policeman buried, if he hadn't struggled he never would have got shot"—he said he was along with some of the detectives on the tramcar, and he had ridden on the tramcar many a time, and had talked about the affair, but they never knew he was the one that done it—he said when the policeman asked him what he was after, he came out, and then he threw the revolver away; the policeman tried to pick it up, and there was a struggle for it, and he said if he had not struggled he would never have got shot; he was going along quietly if he hadn't picked it up—he showed me his trousers on the tram—I never took much notice of them—he said he had cut his trousers knee and cut his hand in the struggle—I did not take any notice of the trousers—he said they were the trousers he had on—he said after the struggle he went straight home—he asked me why I didn't pick up his hat—I said "How did I know you had dropped it? or else I would have picked it up"—nobody heard this conversation on the tramcar; the only man on it along with me was Edward Blade, the man I lodged with; he did not hear the conversation—the prisoner did not tell me what became of the revolver—he said he had got it from an advertisement in the paper—I did not see the prisoner again till I saw him at Bow Street last month—before that, I think on 29th July, Sergeant Cobb came to where I worked, and Miles with him—I afterwards made a statement to Mr. Glass of what I knew about the matter—that was the first time I

gave information against the prisoner, and I would not have done so I then if I had not been taken up—I afterwards made a further statement and was examined as a witness at Bow Street.

Cross-examined. I had been on the drink for a week—I was not drunk on this particular night, nor suffering from the effects; I had got sober—Orrock and Miles did not want me to go with them—I did not know that they had arranged to enter the chapel till we came from the Walford—I heard it then—they wanted me to leave them—I said "Go on, I will come along with you"—I should have had a share in it, a couple of bob perhaps—like a good many more chaps, I wanted to see what was going on, I should not have got any profit out of it—I should have got a couple of bob perhaps—Miles and Orrock said "You will have a bob or two tomorrow if it comes off all right"—that was the reason I remained—I saw the pistol at the Walford first and last between 7 and 8; I never saw it again—I do not know what became of it—I asked Orrock to let me look at it and I pointed it at him, and he turned his head—I gave it back to him; I am quite sure of that—I did not see Miles with it at all on that night, I am quite sure of that—Orrock said he had it in case anybody should interfere with him in getting into the chapel, that was what I put it down to—after I heard what I thought were fog signals, we went out and saw the policeman lying on the ground—I did not know whether he was shot or not, I could not tell, I was not a doctor; I saw a pool of congealed blood that his head was in—I said it might hare been Tom that did it—I did not make any statement at that time, I was not sure it was him—I saw Miles next morning—I said to Miles that night "I reckon it was young Tom that done it"—I saw him on the Saturday morning by accident, and I saw him again at the Hen and Chicken at Highbury a long time afterwards, just before they fetched me from my work—I had not seen him again till July this year—I read about the reward in the paper, not in the bill—I had seen the hill; I saw the bill posted up at police-stations and other places a day or so after the policeman was shot—I never stop to read bills at police-stations much—I did not see any bills except at one place at Stamford Hill, in a bootmaker's shop—I did not read it then, I only cast my eye on it as I went past—I had no curiosity to know what the 200l. referred to; I knew it referred to Cole because I read it in the Sunday paper—when I saw Orrook attain I said to him "God strike me dead I will put his light out if he ruck"—I was referring to Miles—I said that because Orrook said to me that Miles had taken an oath that he would put my light out if I rucked—I was not to take any part in breaking into the chapel, I only drank the beer. Q. Then you had nothing to be afraid of, there was no reason why you should not give information? A. What, ruck on my own pal, my shop-mate! I certainly would not ruck on my own pal. When I gave the statement I have spoken of was when I saw Miles with the police; I did not know what Miles had said about the matter; I had been told he had given his statement, and some other persons had been giving statements, and they told me to speak the truth, and I spoke the truth, I was bound to do so then—I was told there had been a lot spoke about me, but I did not mind that—I did not hear it said that I and Miles were to keep watch outside the chapel; I never heard it—I should have given a whistle if anybody had come near—it was so dark you could see

nothing before you—it was arranged that I was to give a whistle if it was wanted—Miles wan going into the chapel, so they said—Orrock started on the job first; I mean he put it up—I did not give any whistle on that night—I was not outside in Ashwin Street at a quarter-past 10—I was inside the Railway Tavern drinking beer—I did not give the whistle, because he went to do the job too quick—I was along with him as he passed the wall where he got over, and then I went to the Railway Tavern and had a pint of four ale—I did not see him get over the wall—it was a low wall—he told me he got over afterwards—I left him when he was going to get over—he stood there a little while—he stood by where he got over, but I did not know he was going to get over so quick—I went to the Railway Tavern; Miles was there, I swear that—it was not arranged that a pistol was to be tired off as a signal if any policeman came up—I never had a pistol—I asked the prisoner what he wanted the revolver for; he said in case anybody interfered with him, and I said "Good luck"—I meant it anybody interfered with him "Pop him off"—I thought that a proper thing to do under the circumstances—Pottinger was with us in the Adam und Eve when the conversation took place that I have spoken of; he did not hear, he was a little way behind; two can speak without a third one bearing, can't they?—I was dressed in a lightish overcoat and a black-and-white scarf—it is in the shop now, I took it off before I came here this morning—I cannot say how Miles was dressed, I think he had a white choker on or a white scarf round his neck—I cannot say what clothes he had on; I don't think he had an overcoat on, I cannot tell, or what coloured tronsers he had—he was wearing a hat something like mine, a hard black hat—I cannot recollect whether he had a long dark overcoat on; I cannot tell what colour it was—he must have had a coat on.

Re-examined. I am quite sure that when I heard the first report, which I thought was a fog signal, I and Miles were inside the Railway Tavern—I swear that it was not till we heard the third shot that we came out—we came out both together.

FREDERICK MILES . I now live at 9, Eudell Street, Shacklewell, Stoke Newington—on Friday, November 1st, 1882, I was living at 2, Wellington Road, Stoke Newington—I knew the prisoner at that time—I have known him somewhere about 10 years—I met him that day by accident—I afterwards saw Evans—I met Mortimer at the corner of the turning where he lived—I and the prisoner and Evans were together part of that day, and later on we went to the Star and Garter, and afterwards to the Walford; we got there between 5.30 and 6 o'clock—I went home from there and had tea, and came back afterwards—we three were together there about 8 o'clock—the prisoner said he was going to the Baptist Chapel in Ashwin Street to fetch away some plate—he asked me if I was going anywhere particular—I said "No"—I told him I would go with him—he said "Very well"—he said he wanted me to help him to carry the plate away—he said he was going to take it to his brother-in-law's, Tilley—he said he used to pay for a seat at the chapel—I saw some chisels; these are the two that I saw; the 1 1/4-inch and the cold chisel—he had some more, but he gave Evans those—I did not see them—I saw these in his hand in the Walford when I came back from tea—he did not say anything about these chisels—I did not see any revolver that night or any wedge—nothing was said about a revolver that night in my presence

—I knew that he had a revolver before that night—I, Orrock, and Evans left the Walford together arid went to the Railway Tavern—we stopped in there a little while, and Orrock went out and came back again—that was somewhere about 9 o'clock—he said there were too many people about—he went out again; Evans went with him—then I went out; I did not join them then—I walked to the corner of Dalston Lane, and I saw Orrock and Evans coming across the road opposite Paternoster's lamp shop, against the Crown and Castle—Evans said that Orrock was going to buy a lamp—Orrock was then walking towards the lamp shop, he afterwards came back—I did not see the lamp—he did not say anything about it—he came back and joined us, and we went and had some drink in the Railway Tavern—Orrock went out again—I did not see where he went—I did not see him any more that light—Evans went out for some time, and came back, and when we were there together I heard a report—we thought they were some fog signals going off; I heard two or three reports—we came out; I saw somebody running by the door, and I looked down Ashwin Street, and went down to opposite Paternoster's stables in Beech Street, and there saw the policeman lying on the ground—I saw blood there; I saw Sergeant Ash, and asked him if I should fetch a doctor—I don't know where Evans was; I don't know whether he left the Railway Tavern with me—they did not want me to fetch a doctor—they said they would take the poor fellow to the hospital—I saw Evans afterwards standing at the back of me; near where the constable was—I afterwards went away home, and Evans too—the prisoner was dressed that night in ft long black coat, dark trousers, mixture trousers, and a soft felt hat—Evans put on the hat during the day; he took it from Orrock and tried it on, and said it fitted him nicely—I say the hat produced is the one he wore that night—I never saw the prisoner again till I was at Bow Street—in October I met him and Mortimer in Stoke Newington Road, and they told me they were going down to Tottenham to buy a revolver—the prisoner said it was advertised in the Exchange and Mart, and he showed me the advertisement—I read it—I and Mortimer and the prisoner went together to Vicarage Road, the place mentioned in the advertisement—the prisoner left us there—I saw him go about a dozen doors down Vicarage Road to a private house—he returned in a short time, and said he had bought the revolver; that he had seen a young woman, the governor was not at home—he showed me the revolver; it was a small silver-plated one—smaller than this produced, I think—a smaller handle than that I should think; otherwise it was exactly the same as that; it was a pintire—there were also some small cartringes, 20 or 30, with a pin sticking out of them—on our way back it was suggested that we should try the revolver, and the prisoner fired at a tree—Mortimer was still with us; it was at some place between Vicarage Road and the railway bridge at the Lea, in Tottenham marches—I knew of this bill being issued—I never gave any information to the police until Sergeant Cobb came to me at the end of May this year—he spoke to me, and I then made a statement to him—I told him about this matter; I should have done so before it it had not been for that bill—I did not want the 200l.—I did not want people to think I wanted the 200l.—I took Sergeant Cobb, and pointed out the place where the shot had been tired at the tree, and I saw him find the bullet.

Cross-examined. I was not anxious to give information—I would have.

given information but for the bill—I don't know when I first saw the bill it is a long time ago; it might have been three or four days after 1st December, I don't exactly know the day—I first saw it at the police-station as I was going by—I did not make any statement when I came up and saw the policeman on the ground, because I did not know anything about it then; I did not know who had done it then—it never occurred to me how he had got on the ground—I heard he had been shot, I did not know who had done it—it first occurred to me when I was going home—Evans said he should not be at all surprised if it was not Orrock, but I did not know that it was the truth—I had not seen the prisoner—I did not know it was right—I had not seen him after the policeman was shot; I had seen him a few moments before—Sergeant Cobb first came to me a long time afterwards, and then I did not believe a word of it—I did not say before the Magistrate, "He mentioned one word, and then I knew what he came about"—he asked me if I knew the prisoner Orrock—I had not before that heard rumours that statements had been made about what I had been doing that night—I have no idea how Sergeant Cobb came to me—when he asked me if I knew Orrock, of course I said I did, and he asked me what I knew, and I told him, and it was reduced into writing—I was not anxious to get rid of Evans on this night of 1st December, nor was Orrock that I know of—he was more a companion of Orrock's than mine, because I had never seen him before, at least never in his company before—I and Orrock had not arranged together to share the results of this entry into the chapel—I knew he was going to attempt to enter the chapel, but he did not say he was going to commit a robbery there—he said he was going to fetch some plate; I did not understand what that meant—I never asked him no questions, I never asked him what he was going to do, I did not understand that he was going to steal the plate—I knew he belonged to the chapel; I did not know he was going to get the plate—I had been out all day enjoying myself I did not ask him anything about that—he came back into the Railway Tavern and said there were too many people about, but he did not say it distinctly to me, I overheard him saying it—I did not speak to him—I did not know what he meant then—it is not true that I was to help him to dispose of the plate to his brother-in-law, we did not make any arrangement to do it—it was to be taken to his brother-in-law's—I did not say anything about melting it down; I did not know whether it was to be melted down, or what he was going to do with it—he said he was going to take it to his brother-in-law's—I may have said before the Magistrate that he told me it was to be taken to his brother-in-law's to be melted down, I did not know what for—I was to have a share in the matter; he was going to give me something, I don't know what, for helping him to carry it away—it was not arranged that Evans was to be outside and give a whistle if any policeman came up, nothing of the kind—I was not to do anything of that sort—I had not the revolver in my hand at all that night, I will swear I had not—I did not see Evans with it, I never saw it that night; nothing was said about it in my presence—I had on a hard felt hat that night, and I think a white scarf, no overcoat; I had on a short pilot coat—Evans had on an overcoat, a long one, I don't know the colour, I think it was a brown coat—it was a foggy night, rather thick—I saw Orrock go out of the Railway Tavern the last time—neither I nor Evans followed him the last time—Evans went out for a short time after that by himself, and he

came back as the fog-signals, as I thought, were going off—I went out once before that, I went to the corner—I did not go out at all between the time Orrock went out and hearing the fog-signals—I have known the prisoner a great many years—I don't know about his giving me an overcoat at any time; I used to have a lot of clothes of him at one time—he had not given me an overcoat about 1st December, not of any kind—I was going to be a conductor of a tramcar about that time—he did not shortly before 1st December give me a long overcoat for the purpose of my being a conductor of a tramcar; I am quite sure about that.

JOHN ASH (Police Sergeant N 34). On Friday, 1st December, I was in Dalston Lane about 20 minutes past 10—I afterwards went to Beech Street, and saw Cole on the ground wounded and his helmet off—while there I saw the witness Miles, and he offered to go for a doctor—I could not say that I noticed Evans there—there were several other persons about there—I am quite sure that Miles was the man that spoke to me about going for the doctor—Constables Hart and Harford were there when I got there—I saw Milea about a month or six weeks afterwards somewhere in the neighbourhood.

THOMAS JONES . On 1st December, 1882, I was employed at a lamp shop, No. 6, High Street, Kingsland—that is the third shop from the corner of Dalston Lane; Paternoster's is first, then another shop, and then ours—I have a book in which I make entries of the purchases; it is in my own writing—I find that on that day there were three bull's-eye lamps sold, the first for 1s. 1 1/2 d., about 2 o'clock in the day as far as I can judge by the entries; the second for 6 1/2 d. about 7 o'clock, and the third for 7d. about half-past 7 or later, it could not have been before—there is a change in the handwriting immediately after my entry of the 7d. one; Mr. Salisbury enters then—I cannot remember the person to whom I sold it—it would be before 9 o'clock.

HENRY MORTIMER . I am now a prisoner in Coldbath Fields under-going 12 months' imprisonment for stealing—I know Miles and Orrock—I remember hearing of the shooting of the policeman—some months before that I and Miles and Orrock had gone down to Tottenham to buy a revolver—I did not see the advertisement in the Exchange and Mart, it was spoken of—Orrock went to a house and got a revolver, and came back with it, it was a silver-plated one, and some cartridges, and he tried it as we were going home, at a tree in Tottenham Marshes—the police came to me at Maidstone in July this year, and I made a statement to them—I had known Orrock three or four years, I should think—he used to wear a hard felt hat at one time, afterwards he wore a wideawake similar to this one—I only saw him about twice wear a billycock hat—some months after, about the beginning of last summer, he asked me if I heard of the policeman being shot in Dalston Lane—I said I had—he said, "Would you be surprised to know it was me?"—I said, "I should not think you would do such a thing"—he said, "If they can prove it is me I am willing to stand the consequences."

Cross-examined. I mentioned this conversation to the inspector at Maidstone Prison; that was quite lately—it was made to me more than a year ago by Orrock—my term of imprisonment commenced on 7th April last—between the time Orrock made the statement to me and 7th April I did not mention it to anybody—I saw the bills offering 200l. reward to anybody who could give information about the murder; I saw them

shortly after the man was shot—I knew he was referring to the Dalston murder—I had known him three or four years, seeing him occasionally—I did not mention it to the police because I was not sure about it, I had no confidence in it—it was Inspector Glass, I believe, who spoke to me in Maidstone Prison—he asked me whether I had had any conversation with Orrock—I do not know how he came to know about it—he put my statement down in writing—I saw Miles once after this conversation with Orrock, but not to speak to—the inspector told me he had got the evidence of Miles; that was all he told me; that was the first I had heard about Miles being connected with it—the inspector also asked me if I knew the name of Evans, and I did not before that; I did not know him by name, only as Jack—I have seen Evans to-day, I did not know him before.

WILLIAM AMES . I am now a prisoner in Coldbath Fields undergoing a sentence of 12 months for attempting to break into a warehouse—I was convicted last February—I was a cabinet-maker, and was apprenticed to Mr. Pottinger, 31, Hoxton Market—I have known Orrock for two years up to the present time—I had known him about four months before 1st December, 1882—we use these sort of wooden wedges at Pottinger's—any cabinet-maker would use them—the prisoner wore a wideawake soft felt hat, a long dark coat, and light grey trousers—I saw him about a fortnight after the policeman was shot; he was then wearing a round brown hat—a man named Alford asked him where his hat was, he did not say what sort of hat—he said, "I have it at home"—he said nothing about his trousers—I knew his tools; he used to have a chisel like this (The inch and a quarter one), I have seen it—I never saw him use one like this (The cold chisel)—in a cabinet-maker's business we don't use these tools, mostly carpenters use them—I have sometimes taken his tools to Preston's, 301, Shoreditch, to be ground—sometimes I have taken two or three men's tools together, sometimes his only—I used to give the name to the lady in the shop, so that I might know whose tools they were—I have seen her mark them with a file; she would scratch with the sharp end of it the name of the man I gave her, on the end of the chisel towards the handle—sometimes I gave Orrock's name, sometimes other men's, to take them all in one name; if I took tools for more than one workman I would only give one name, it might be Orrock's name or any one's—Orrock also had a chisel like this three-quarter one—I knew he had a revolver, he told me he had one before this crime was committed, before 1st December, 1882—he told me he got it from an advertisement in the paper—after the 1st December, 1882, I saw him at Pottinger's; I cannot say exactly how soon after, about a month I should say—I asked him where his revolver was—he said, "I have got it at home"—about a month afterwards I asked him if he would sell it to me—he said, "I have broken it up and thrown it away"—one night at Pottinger's, about half-past 10, I said to him, "You know all about that affair"—he said, "Shut up"—a few minutes afterwards he said, "I know the man that did do it, I was in bed reading about it the next morning"—that was all that passed—I did not give any information to the police about this matter until July in the present year, when Mr. Glass came to me and spoke about it, and I told him what I knew.

Cross-examined. I had seen the bill offering 200l. reward, about a week after 1st December, 1882; it was after that that I had the conversation

with Orrock about the revolver—I did not make any statement to anybody about it, because I did not believe what he told me about it—I said "You know all about the affair," because I thought he knew something about it—it was for the purpose of getting information; that was what I did it for—I should have gone to the police only I did not think it was true what he said—I put the question for the purpose of getting information—he said the pistol was broken up and thrown into the Lea, but I did not believe it; if I had believed it I should have given information, but I did not take any notice of it; that was the only reason I had for not going to the police—I was in employment then, up to Christmas, on and off—it was after Christmas that I had this conversation—I was not convicted at the same time as Mortimer—a different transaction—mine was fur warehouse-breaking—that was not the first time I had been convicted—I had been convicted twice before; once for attempting to pick pockets, and the other for stealing a pair of rabbits.

THOMAS JACKMAN . I am a registered medical practitioner and divisional surgeon of police, and live at 11, Stoke Newington Road—I have been to 30, Filey Crescent this day with Sergeant Helson, and there found a lady who passed as Mrs. Beere, who had been confined about two weeks ago; the child died, and she is suffering from the confinement; she is exceedingly weak—it would be dangerous for her to come to this Court and give evidence.

JOSEPH HELSON (Police Sergeant N). I went with the last witness to day to 30, Filey Crescent—the lady who the doctor saw was Ellen Jane Beere, she was examined as a witness at Bow Street Police-court—she gave evidence for the prosecution in the presence of the prisoner on this charge—the prisoner was represented by Mr. Willis, as solicitor he had the opportunity of cross-examining her—I heard her give evidence, and saw her write on the last page—I cannot speak as to the writing. (The deposition of Ellen Jane Beere was here put in and read at follows: "I live at 30, Filey Crescent, Stamford Hill—the prisoner is my brother—on 1st December, 1882, he was living with me at 80, Bayston Road, Stoke Newington—on that night I was at home between 10 and 11 o'clock, and I let him in; it was about 10 o'clock, I think—I don't know the time—I think it was between 10 and 11 o'clock—I can't say it was not nearer 11 than 10 o'clock—I let him in—he had no hat on—he went straight to his bedroom—he had a dark overcoat on; it was long, I think, and light trousers—shortly afterwards I think he went the kitchen; I saw him; he had taken off his overcoat, I believe—I noticed his trousers; they were torn a little on one knee—I asked what he had been doing—he said he had had a fight with some one—he said the trousers were torn by tumbling down—he went to bed—he went out next day in the evening—he had been away all the afternoon and evening of Friday, December 1st—on the following week I mended his trousers; I can't say what day—I also mended on Monday morning his overcoat; the sleeve was torn at the top—he did not tell me how it was torn—he said he had lost his hat—he did not say where or when—I do not know what sort of a hat he was wearing that afternoon—I have not seen him wear a hat like this one produced—after the Friday he wore a felt hat—I don't know what sort—he had several hats—I don't know whether he had a soft felt hat like this or not—I know the chapel at the corner of Ashwin Street; I used to frequent the chapel—he had a seat there, and paid for it—he used to attend service

there—he used to attend Bible-class there on Sundays—I have not said at the police-court that I was aware that my brother had a soft felt hat—I might have said so—shortly after 1st December, 1882, my brother married a lady at the chapel—he was by trade a cabinet-maker's apprentice and worked for Mr. Pottinger.")

ALBERT POTTINGER, JUN . I am a cabinet-maker, living at 19, Lever Street, St. Luke's—the prisoner was apprenticed to my father, a cabinet-maker—I read of the shooting of the constable on the 1st December 1882—the prisoner used to wear a hat like this one produced, a soft felt hat—in February, 1883, he sold a pair of light-coloured trousers to me; they had been split at both knees, and neatly mended—I also bought, about the first week in March, a long dark-grey overcoat of him—I afterwards gave that coat and another one of mine to a man named Green to pledge for me, and he gave me the money and the ticket—they were never redeemed, as I lost the ticket—the trousers were worn out and sold as old lumber.

RICHARD GREEN . I live at 4, Diamond Court, Spitalfields, and am a cabinet-maker—I have known the prisoner for the last four or five years—I heard of the policeman being shot—I knew that the prisoner was apprenticed to Mr. Pottinger then; he was not at work at that time—about three or four weeks after the 1st December, 1882, I saw the prisoner in the London Apprentice public-house—I said to him "This is rather a serious affair, shooting a constable at Dalston"—he did not take much notice of it, but merely smiled—I said "Tom, I think you know something about that, where is your hat?"—he said "I have left it at home, or somewhere else"—he was wearing a hard hat then—I could not swear that the hat produced is the one prisoner used to wear—I said "Where is your revolver?"—he used to have one in the shop—he said "Well, it is where no one will find it, at the bottom of some river, I believe"—I pawned two coats in March last for young Pottinger, and gave him the money.

Cross-examined. I had not seen these bills offering a reward of 200l. at the time I am speaking of—I cannot say when it was when I first saw Orrock after the policeman was shot—when I said to the prisoner "I believe you know something about it", I only surmised it, because I thought he looked rather cross; me and him were at variance over a bit of money that I owed him; he seemed so easily put out—I did not see these pla-cards offering a reward of 200l. till a long time afterwards—I did not make a statement to any one after I had this conversation with the prisoner about the revolver, not till I was fetched; I did not believe it.

CHARLES NELSON . I live at 32, Ridley Road, Dalston—on 1st December, 1882, I was deacon of the Baptist chapel in Ash win Street—the prisoner, his sister, Mrs. Beere, and a young woman whom the prisoner afterwards married, used to pay for sittings there—I heard of the shooting of the constable on 1st December, 1882; on that night there was a meeting in the schoolroom under the chapel, which lasted till about a quarter to 10; there was a door at the chapel which was generally left open, so that a person could go through the door into the gallery where the windows are—there is a communication from the room where the meeting I was into the chapel, at the far end—a person could get from the school-room while the meeting was going on into the chapel—we use plated

cups for the sacrament, which are brought there and taken away again; they are not kept at the chapel, but that was not known.

AUGUSTUS WILSON (Re-examined). I have now examined the chisels in better light than this Court, and am able to say that the photograph was made from this 1 1/4-inch chisel.

ANN PRESTON . I am a widow—in December, 1882, my husband kept a tool shop at 30, Old Street, Shoreditch, where we used to grind tools—when tools were brought to us we generally scratched their names on them with a broken file, so as to know for whom we did the work—I have seen the photograph, and to the best of my belief the word "Rock" appears there to be in writing—I am not much of a scholar for writing.

JAMES CAMERON . I am a Fellow of the Institute of Chemistry, employed in the Government Laboratory, Somerset House—I have examined this chisel under a very powerful microscope, and saw "Rock" clearly scratched upon it—there are also some other letters in front which I have made out to be the first part of an "0" and then a small "r."

JAMES SQUIRES . I am a gunmaker, living at 14, Newcastle Street, Whitechapel—I have examined these three bullets, and in my judgment they are all 7a.m pin-fire cartridges.

FREDERICK COBB (Recalled). I was present before Sir James Ingham when this hat was produced—the prisoner contented to it being tried on—I saw him try it on, and, in my judgment, it fitted him—I got these two chisels, 3/4 and 7/8, from the prisoner's tool-chest—they were given up to me by Mr. Fletcher, where the prisoner worked before he was taken up on the other charge in August last.

CLARENCE THORNTON . I am a warder in. Coldbath Fields Prison—the prisoner's height is 5 feet 3 3/4 inches.

Cross-examined. I have seen Miles and Evans during the day; they are beth about the prisoner's height.


NEW COURT.—Friday, September 19th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-891
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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891. BARNETT LEVY (40) , Feloniously uttering a receipt for the delivery of two baskets, with intent to defraud.

MR. BURNIE Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

HENRY MORGAN . I am porter to Mr. Hettemar, of Covent Garden Market—on 1st August two empties, for which I wrote out this ticket, were brought in by a man I cannot identify—I gave him the ticket; it was dated August 1, not 12th, and was for two empties, not 21—the buyer was entitled to receive 2s. for two empties, and 21s. for 21.

Cross-examined. It was not the prisoner who brought in the two baskets; if you had baskets you would bring them yourself, you would give them to a porter, and give him the ticket, and he would bring it back to the buyer—the baskets are consigned to me from France, and are worth 1s. each.

MONTANUS HETTEMAR . I am a salesman in Covent Garden Market, and am Morgan's employer—this ticket would be used in the course of business, and the effect of the alteration would be that 21s. would be paid instead of 2s.—on 19th August, about 10.30 a.m., I called the prisoner

into my office and told him be had altered the ticket which was for two empties into 21—he said that it was as he received it.

Cross-examined. When I said that he only brought in two baskets, he said that he brought twenty-one, and that the ticket was in the same condition as he got it.

BALTHUS AMERICA . I am cashier to Mr. Hettemar—on 19th August, about 12.45, the prisoner brought in the ticket and I gave him 21s.—it is dated August 12, not August 1.

GEORGE LATIMBER (Policeman E 438). The prisoner was given into my custody—he said "I have altered no ticket."

The Prisoner's Statement before that Magistrate. "I brought in twenty-one baskets and he gave me 21s., that is all I know."

The prisoner received a good character.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-892
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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892. HARRIS RABBINOWITZ (15) , Unlawfully attempting feloniously to carnally know and abuse Mary Ann Silk, she being under the age of thirteen.

MR. BAYLISS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.

GUILTY of an indecent assault.— Six Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Friday, September 19th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-893
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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893. JAMES GLASGOW (53) , Stealing 117 dozen pairs of unmanfactured gloves, the goods of the Great Western Railway Company. Second Count, receiving.


ALFRED FLINT . I am in the employ of Dent, Allcroft, and Company, glove manufacturers, of 97, Wood Street—on 23rd May last I packed 117 dozen pairs of gloves, cut and going to be sewn, in three brown paper parcels.

Cross-examined. They were silk gloves in process of manufacture, and were to be sent into the country to be sewn—I identify them—nothing remained to be done but the sewing and pointing.

WILLIAM THOMAS GRAHAM . I am in Dent, Allcroft, and Company's employ—on 23rd May Flint gave me three parcels, which I took to Messrs. Deut's, Wood Street, packing room, and gave to Mr. Wright.

Cross-examined. I am an errand boy, and regularly take parcels between the two places all day long—I did not know what was in the parcels.

HENRY JAMES WRIGHT . I am a packer in Dent and Company employment at Wood Street—on 23rd May Graham gave me three brown-paper parcels, and a ticket with them—I packed the parcels in a wooden box and addressed it outside Dent, Allcroft, and Company Mattock—I handed the box to Mr. Cheese, the foreman.

SAMUEL CHEESE . I am a foreman packer at Messrs. Dent's—on 23rd May I saw Wright pack three parcels in a box, which he handed to me when packed, and which I handed to the Great Western carman. Henson—I filled up a consignment note and Henson gave me this separate receipt for it.

Cross-examined. The entry on the consignment note was one box of

cotton goods—Messrs. Dent deal in shirts, ties, and hosiery generally, as well as gloves.

Re-examined. They don't send shirts and ties to Martock.

WILLIAM HENSON . I am a carman in the employment of the Great Western Railway Company—on 23rd May I called at Messrs. Dent's about 12 in the morning, and received five boxes, one of which was addressed to Messrs. Dent's, Martock—I had this consignment note with, them—I took the boxes into Smithfield (where the Great Western have a goods depot) about half-past 6 or twenty minutes to 7.

Cross-examined. I call at Messrs. Dent's twice a day every week to take their goods to the Great Western Railway to be tent to Somer-setshire.

Re-examined. I received this consignment note on 23rd May.

WILLIAM LANGDALE . I am a checker in the Great Western Railway's employment at Smithfield—on 23rd May I received Henson's van and checked the goods on it between 7 and 8—among other things I found a box addressed to Dent, Martook—I seat it to the main line shipping clerk, Russell, whose duty it would be to ship it on and send it to Paddington.

Cross-examined. He would send all goods on to Paddington—I am continually in the habit of receiving goods consigned to Messrs. Dent, of Martock—the goods are put in a railway van to go to Paddington.

HENRY RUSSELL . I am a shipping clerk in the Great Western Railway's employment at Smithfield—on 23rd May I entered a through van for Paddington; among other goods on it was a box addressed Dent, Martock—this is the shipping list on which I entered it to them—I saw the box put on the van for Paddington, and saw it start.

Cross-examined. I have entered thousands of packages for Martook.

FREDERICK DUPPER . I drive a van for Mr. Linly, contractor to the Great Western Railway Company—on 23rd May I drove a van from smithfield to Paddington about 8 p.m.—when I got to Paddington I backed it into the main line platform—the shipping list given me with the van I gave to the foreman on the banks who checks it with the checker with the goods.

Cross-examined. I drive this van from Smithfield to Paddington every day—Sheen was my van boy—I don't know where he is—the prisoner was charged at Guildhall and the charge dismissed—Sheen was not at the police-court.

Re-examined. Sheen had left the Company's service before this charge was made—the charge was dismissed at Guildhall because there was no evidence of larceny in the City of London, and the prisoner was afterwards taken before the Magistrate at Marlborough Street, who committed him for trial here.

JOHN EALES . I am a checker at Paddington Station in the Great Western Railway Company—on 23rd May last I checked Dupper's load and sent a part of it off that night and part next morning—I had the bills about ten minutes to 10—I did not that night find any bills addressed to Messrs. Dent, Martock—I checked it with this checking list and made a note at the time that the box for Dent was missing.

GEORGE TRUSCOTT PAUL . I am a buyer in Dent and Company's employment—they are in the habit of pending silk gloves to Martock in Somerset to be sewn—on 23rd May 117 dozen were sent there—

these (produced) are some of them—I have examined them—103 dozen and ten pairs were shown to me since by the police—they have the cutter's stamp and Messrs. Dent's sign mark on them—the "d" is the quality, and in another glove you will find the cutter's mark, so that we know what cutter cut the glove—these are Dent's peculiar marks; similar marks, but nut these exact ones, are used by others in the trade—they are ladies' long silk gloves—the value of the 117 dozen in their present state is 64l. 10s. 2d.—after sewing their value would be increased a good deal, and then the profit would have to be put on.

Cross-examined. The marks are simply the cutters' marks—none of the gloves are marked Dent—a month or six weeks before this man was charged another man, Leveson, was charged with stealing these gloves—he came and offered me samples of these very gloves at Dent's house—that charge was dismissed at Marl borough Street, taken to Guildhall, and dismissed there—I do not know if these goods have been hawked about for some months past—I have heard that samples of these goods were offered to another house in the City, and information was given to Dent which led to the prisoner's arrest.

Re-examined. We have 103 dozen and 10 pairs out of the 117 dozen—Leveson had three pairs; he gave an explanation to the Magistrate and the charge was dismissed—I think it was on 19th June.

By MR. COLE. Mr. Leveson has not given evidence in this case—he is not here to-day.

ALBERT LEBAY . I live at 29, Greek Street, Soho, and am a cook by trade, but am not just now, I go out when I am called for—in August I saw the prisoner at the Three Greyhounds public-house, Greek Street—he said he had bought some gloves from a man for 3l. and would let me have them for 4l.—I asked him to give me two or three pairs to see what they were like—he went out of the bar and came back in a quarter of an hour and gave me three or four pairs similar to these, red, and blue, and black, unsewn—I did not settle with him then—about three days afterwards I saw him at the same place again—I told him to fetch the goods, and he fetched a big parcel of them, 112 dozen and eight pairs in a large cloth—they were the same as these in quality, but different colours—he gave me the parcel outside the Three Greyhounds, and I gave him 4l. for it—I sold them all to a gentleman who trades under the name of Lemotte in Tichborne Street, Haymarket—he gave me 22l. 10s. for the 112 dozen and 8 pairs the same day I got them—some little time after the police came to me, and I had some conversation with them.

Cross-examined. I get my living by buying and selling job lots of things—I was a cook for six years, but the heat of the stoves was against me, and I go to sales and buy things—I was exclusively engaged in buying and selling things at this time—I attend auction rooms—my attention had not been drawn to gloves like this previously—I did not say to the prisoner "Why gloves like this have been in the market some time"—I think he told me he had had the gloves for about three or four weeks—Charles Erene, a friend of mine and a general dealer, took them to Lemotte, who is a maker of gloves—job lots of things, especially unmade-up things, are often sold at a very low figure—I had not the

slightest idea there was anything wrong in dealing with these things, or I should not have bought them.

WILLIAM MCLEOD . I live at 8, Tichborne Street, Haymarket, and carry on business as a glover under the style of Lemotte and Co.—on 14th August I believe a foreigner came to my shop with samples of gloves, of which these are some—on the 15th the same man came with Lebay and brought the bulk of them, between 112 and 113 dozen—I afterwards gave them to the police—they were all gloves of this diecription, different colours—I paid 22l. 10s. for them; considering their state, only partly manufactured, they were not worth more to me; they were in fair condition—the price was low, I looked at the marks on them—I am not aware of having seen the man before who brought them to me—the other man called three times before Lebay came, bringing a few pairs each time.

Cross-examined. I could not identify the gloves by the marks on them as belonging to Messrs. Dent—there are a great many wholesale glovers in London—they all use these marks, and as a rule no one outside the manufacturer's place knows these marks—it is quite a frequent thing for gloves to be sent to the West Country to be made up.

By the COURT. I sometimes buy gloves in this way over the counter—dealers come round with job lots sometimes.

Re-examined. I have never had goods of this kind brought me before—I import unmade gloves—I believe there is a trade in unmade gloves in this country, it is not uncommon for manufacturers to sell trunks (un-sewn gloves).

BAXTER HUNT (City Detective). On Saturday, 23rd August, I went with Mr. Mason, Great-Western Superintendent of Police, to Soho, where I saw Lebay—in consequence of what he said I went to 67, Dean Street, where I saw the prisoner—I said "We are police officers; I am from the City; this gentleman," meaning Mason, "is superintendent of the Great-Western police, we have come about these gloves"—at that time Lebay was telling him that he bad been arrested for them—I turned to the prisoner and said "Now, Mr. James, what about the gloves?"—I called him Mr. James because Lebay said he knew him by no other name than that—he replied "What gloves?"—I said "Those gloves which you gave to Mr. Lebay unmanufactured"—he said "I bought them of a man in a public-house in Cursitor Street of the name of Walters, I gave 3l. for them and sold them for 4l., and two or three shillings of that I had to spend"—we then went to the Apple and Magpie public-house in Cursitor Street to see if we could find this individual, Mr. Walters—we waited there a quarter of an hour in the public part of the bar—we could not tind him—I asked the landlord if he knew of Mr. Walters—he said he did not know such a person, he might be a customer—I asked the prisoner where Walters lived—he said he did not know, but pressed me to wait much longer at the public-house—I then conveyed him to Snow Hill Police-station, where he was charged—he was taken to Guildhall—the charge was dismissed, as it vas out of the jurisdiction—then he was taken to Marlborough Street and committed to this Court.

Cross-examined. He did not give the name of the public-house in Cursitor Street, there is only one there.

GUILTY of receiving.

He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony

in January, 1876, in the name of James Browning.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-894
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

894. FRANCIS O'KEEFE (31), GEORGE MURRAY (23), GEORGE HAYWOOD (24), and GEORGE CHARD (65) , Stealing a clock and other articles of Martin Steel, in his dwelling-house. Second Count receiving.


FRITH defended Murray; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and BROUN defended Chard.

MARTIN STEELE . I live at 39, Great Pulteney Street—on 4th August I had stolen from my house, between half-past 6 and 8 p.m., property to the value of about 80l.; amongst other things this clock and a piece of black cotton similar to this, which I use in my trade as a tailor—the clock was of the value of about 2l. 2s.—I left my place about 4 o'clock on the day of the robbery, and came back about midnight and missed the things.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. All I have recovered is the clock, piece of cotton, and a coat—I also lost a gold watch and chain, necklet and chain, another gold chain, and several articles of expensive wearing apparel—fairly 20l. of the 80l. was jewellery—of that only the clock was found at Chard's place—it had a glass on it before it was taken.

Re-examined. I lost three coats; this is one.

GEORGE TURTLE . I am assistant to Mr. Chubb, pawnbroker, at 13, Judd Street, Euston Road—on 5th August, about 11 a.m., this blue Chesterfield coat was pledged with me by a woman giving the name of Ann Davis, of 14, Cromer Street, Euston Road.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I know secondhand jewellery is sold at Debenham's, and that dealers who buy there go selling round London.

ELIZABETH HALL . I am a single woman, living at Eagle Street, Holborn—I lived with Haywood from January up to the time of his being taken into custody, at 39, Colonnade, near Russell Square, where he was arrested—I know O'Keefe by the name of Strike; he had been staying at my place about three weeks before the day he and Haywood were arrested—I pawned a blue coat like this at Mr. Chubb's, 13, Judd Street, Euston Road, for 8s., in the name of Ann Davis—Strike gave it to me—I gave him the money outside the pawnshop—Haywood was there too—this is the ticket—I gave that to Strike—the coat was brought to my place on the Monday night, Bank Holiday, or on Tuesday morning, I was asleep; it was given to me on Tuesday morning to pawn, and I pawned it, not knowing where it came from—Haywood and Strike brought a black satin dress to my place about a fortnight before the arrest—the detectives found that dress in my room, where Haywood and O'Keefe had been staying—I pawned a necklet and locket given me by Haywood and another man whom I do not know, and only saw once, at Charles Barnett's, on 18th July—I also pawned, on 19th July, a brooch and earrings, given me by Haywood; on 27th July another article given me by Haywood, but they were all brought in by him and the other man together—I gave the money from the three lots to Haywood.

Cross-examined by O'Keefe. I have no occupation at present; I worked at box-making, but I have done nothing since I knew Haywood—I have one child, whose father was a gentleman where I was at service—I said

at Bow Street I gave the money to Strike, and Haywood was with him—I gave Strike the money for the coat, and Haywood the money for the other things—I gave you back one pawn-ticket; that ticket was not found in my place; tickets for things I had pawned were found in a box in my place—I am not a prostitute—I was in bed asleep when you and Hay-wood brought the black dress to Guildford Street, and the noise of you two coming in woke me up—I did not have time to answer the question at Bow Street—the dress was given me by both you and Haywood as soon as I woke up in the morning, I did not see it brought in.

By the COURT. It must have been between 7 and 8 o'clock when I woke up—I did not go to sleep again—I found them in the morning immediately after they came in.

Cross-examined by Haywood. You used to go out to your work about 7 o'clock, be out all day. and come back at night about half-past 7 o'clock—I could not swear it was the 16th July you and another man brought the things—the morning they were brought in I was in bed on the floor with a friend of mine who was confined, Emma Hazel—she was living with Joseph Goodchild—he gave her a dress to pawn—he only came into my room once; I did not know him, I knew his name—I was fetched into her room when she was confined—I saw you and another man together bring the things into the room; they were tied in two parcels, you each had one—you first met me near Tottenham Court Road, about six months ago, about 8.30 or 9 o'clock—I did not accept you; you gave me a drink, and then gave me a bad two-shilling piece—the father of my child only gave me money before its birth, not afterwards—he gave me a bracelet, no necklets—I swear there have been no men in my room except you and Joseph Goodchild—you knew O'Keefe before I knew you—I remember you brought two men to the door and wanted to bring them in, and I said no—you gave me an apron and umbrella—I was in a home for six weeks before I had my baby.

Re-examined. I had never seen Murray before.

JAMES SCANDRETH (Detective E). On the morning of 7th August I went with Sergeant Fox to 47, Neale Street, Long Acre, O'Keefe's lodging—O'Keefe was lying; on a mattress with Murray, a woman, and a child—the woman was Murray's wife; I believe they occupied one room—I began searching the room; I found 11 skeleton keys and a small jemmy in a little recess at the end of the room covered over with some linen—I have since tried the keys at Mr. Steele's premises, 89, Great Pulteney Street; one of the skeleton keys opens the door quite easily—I found marks on the front and back parlour doors and a cupboard of that house which corresponds with the end of this jemmy, which is very irregular—before the arrest, for about three weeks, I had kept observation on Haywood and O'Keefe—I had seen them constantly together at different hours—I went to Haywood's premises, 39, Colonnade, Russell Square, with Sergeant Fox, and took Haywood in custody; I found 10 keys, some of them skeleton, one of them fits Miss Hutchinson's house, 15, Burton Crescent—I was present with Inspector Sergeants Reader and Fox and two or three other constables at Chard's premises when they were searched—I saw the clocks found and the piece of cloth at the extreme end of the back shop—there was a large cupboard outside the wall that had the appearance of another wall, but it projected some few inches out—the cupboard was covered with some paper, and apparently had been whitewashed, and was nailed up; it had

the appearance of a papered wall—I observed a crack in the paper, that led me to believe it was a cupboard—I forced it open, and found a quantity of spoons and forks in it, since identified by Mr. Large as having been stolen from his premises, and other stolen property—I made this list of property, the proceeds of different burglaries within 12 months, found at Chard's, and identified by persons who are here—I checked the list—it is correct. (This list consisted of clocks, spoons, and forks, articles of jewellery and other things.)

Cross-examined by O'Keefe. When I apprehended you at Neale Street, and found these keys, you said "They don't belong to me; they belong to Murray"—Murray's wife is O'Keefe's sister; she occupied that room.

Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. The landlady of the lodgings is not here that I am aware of—I am not in charge of this case—I heard O'Keefe say he had only stopped at Murray's lodgings that night—that may be true for anything that I know—the keys were in the room in which they were both sleeping—beyond the fact that they were both sleeping in the same room the only evidence I have to connect him with Murray is what he said—I can't say if Murray knew of the existence of the keys; they might have been there without his knowledge.

Cross-examined by Haywood. The keys were found in a cupboard; not on you—a woman was living there—I did not see another man there—you said O'Keefe slept there the night previous—I have seen you out late at night in Russell Square, Southampton Row, and Cromer Street—I have seen you go indoors with O'Keefe late at night—I kept observation on you because your manner was very suspicious—I did not see you doing anything suspicious, if I had I should have arrested you—it was your way of going indoors and coming out at 9.30 or 10 in the morning or late at night—I did not know you were a dealer at Debenham's—I was never told that many of these keys are skeleton keys—you were regularly living there; you had not been living there very long—the woman you were living with was wearing a red dress—I did not see another woman wearing a black dress—the morning I came into the room the woman lying on the floor said they were her things—you said you had bought her the dress—I will swear that—when we came Fox spoke first—he said he had come to arrest you—you said "You have got me straight; have you got O'Keefe and Murray?"—you first said "I know nothing about it," and afterwards you said "You have got me straight"—I swear you said "Have you got O'Keefe and Murray?"—when I took you to the station I did not say "It is no good, Bob, we have got you this time; Harry on the Dials has rounded"—I swear I did not say that—I have not seen you with a man besides O'Keefe—I saw you walking with Hall and the other woman who was sleeping in your room—you did not tell me Joseph Goodchild was coming into the room—you said something about his being with you to do the job in Burton Crescent—I did not look after Goodchild—you told me about the men that you knew had pawned the watch—I don't know that he could have been found—he might have brought the things up to this room—I don't know that he lived with Hall before you did—I have been keeping observation on you for nearly three weeks—these burglaries have been within eight and ten miles round—I never saw you trying to open any doors besides your own—one of the keys would fit your door—it would not be difficult to find a common latch-key to open any of these doors—I have fitted the keys into all the doors of these places which

have been robbed with one in your lot and two in the other lot; I could open nearly any lock—this one would open the door at 15, Burton Crescent—it is not a skeleton key, but has been filed down—I asked the landlord of the house if he had given the key to you—he said he had not—he is a policeman—you lodged with him—he said you told him you were a compositor, and you would be out late at night—I have seen you out at night at 12 and 1.30 in the morning—I did not see you going up to doors late at night—I saw you coming out at 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning, and going to different public-houses—I did not know you were a dealer—I knew you were not doing any work—I never saw you talking to Murray in Crown Street—there is no doubt the woman knew a lot of men—it is possible they gave her things—the only man you spoke of in particular was O'Keefe—I never saw you commit a felony during the time I observed you—I heard you were a good burglar from a man and woman; the man was not the one that lived with Hall to my knowledge—she had 4s., I think—I don't remember her saying she had a present from a gentleman the night before.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I examined the premises very carefully—I did not examine Chard's room—I did not notice the walls of the room where this cupboard was found very particularly—there were a lot of small cupboards—I cannot say whether the walls of that room were papered or not—I will swear the cupboard did not stand about a foot from the wall—I should say it contained more than a hundred articles—there were shelves, and the large shelf was a foot wide—I should think the cupboard did not stand out a foot from the wall, because it was in a little recess—I cannot say if the back of the cupboard was the wall, I did not examine it—I should think it stood less than a foot from the wall—I do not know how it contained a shelf a foot wide—I do not wish to withdraw my answer about it being a foot wide—I cannot say if the paper on the cupboard was the same as that on the wall, it had the appearance of being whitewashed, I cannot say if the wall was white-washed—I saw no glass in the front of the cupboard; I will not swear there was not glass there—stolen articles were in the cupboard—the whole front of the cupboard was pasted over with paper—there was a crack right through where the doors swung open—the cupboard did not reach down to the ground, and only up to within three inches of the ceiling—there was a space between it and the wall on one side—you could not see the bottom of the cupboard till a heavy machine in front was moved away—it had no appearance of a cupboard—I watched O'Keefe and Haywood prior to their arrest—I did not see them going to Chard's house—I know Debenhain's in Garrick Lane—I cannot say that a good deal of stolen property is sold there—I don't know whether the lists of stolen property are sent to Debenham's, I have no doubt it is done—a list is given to pawnbrokers, Debenham is not a pawnbroker—the clocks were covered up in different pieces of dirty linen—it was a private house—I did not hear that the room in which these things were found was going to be whitewashed, and that was why the things were covered up—Chard got boisterous when Langrish appeared, and tried to escape—I believe he had lived in the same house for 30 years—a great number of his neighbours are here to speak for him—there was no lock on the cupboard, it was nailed up.

Re-examined. This is not the first time I have heard Debenham's name

introduced into these cases—the clocks wrapped in linen were found in the front room laid away in different places—I could not exactly catch what Haywood said about Goodchild helping to do the job in Burton Crescent—that is one of the places charged here in connection with one of the burglaries.

By Haywood. You did not tell me Goodchild was in the habit of coming to your room.

By O'Keefe. I kept observation on you because of your being in Hay-wood's company, your suspicious manner, and from what I had beard—I did not know you previous to it.

JOHN LANGRISH (Police Inspector E). On Thursday, 7th August, I went to 9, Lee Street, Burton Crescent, where Chard keeps a jeweller's shop—I saw him and said, I made a note of the conversation, "Have you purchased any clocks within the last week?"—he said, "I have had two or three left here to be altered"—I said, "Can you tell me who left them here?"—he said, "A dealer who lives in Albany Street"—I said, "Can you give me his name and address?"—he said, "Well, to tell you the truth, I bought them; I gave 1s. for one, 12s. for another, and 8s. for another"—I said, "Do you know from whom you purchased them?"—he said, "From the same man in Albany Street, but I don't know who he is"—I said, "Have you any other clocks on the premises?"—he said "No"—I said, "I shall charge you with receiving these clocks, well knowing them to have been stolen"—there were three—I said, "Do you occupy the front shop of this house?"—he said, "No, it has nothing to do with me"—this conversation was in the passage of the house—he endeavoured to make his escape, was very violent, and two or three of us secured him without using unnecessary violence—the woman who said she was his wife told me the front room was Chard's—I searched it, and found there from 30 to 40 clocks, besides a number of other articles of jewellery—I asked him if he could account to me for the possession of one single article—he said, "They are all jobs"—I said, "Can you give me the names of any of your Customers for whom these jobs are being done"—he said, "No. they are all jobs, but I cannot give you the name of any one"—the clocks were all wrapped up in linen—I took him to the station and searched him—I found three keys on him, one of which fitted a locker—he said all the jewellery was in the front room, which did not belong to him—I there found a diamond ring and a loose stone identified by Mrs. Meshum, a watch and chain identified by Mr. Large—500l. worth of property was stolen in the case of Mrs. Meshum.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The loose amethyst and the diamond ring are the only things out of the 500l. that Mrs. Meshum identities—the keys did not open the cupboard—I did not see Scandreth open it—I have seen it since—the walls of this room are painted to the best of my belief—the cupboard was papered with white paper—there was a slight different between the cupboard and the wall—I will not swear there is a single nail-mark in the whole of the cupboard—Chard gave his age as 64 or 65—I had uniform men with me, they were outside—we four had no difficulty in overpowering Chard—I gave directions to use no violence—he was boisterous and violent, and his son and daughter came out—I was afraid the son might use violence, and told him not to—I only searched a pawnbroker's shop once—I once had a pawnbroker in custody for receiving goods, knowing them to be stolen—not many stolen goods

were found on his premises—there was nothing on the premises out of the scope of his trade—there was a handsome ram's horn, I have seen them in jewellers' shops, and there was an oil-painting, cannot say that was stolen.

Cross-examined by Haywood. You wrote and asked me to come to you in the House of Detention—you told me of a man that pawned the watch, and said he was in the habit of coming to the room where you were, and told me the houses he was is the habit of using, and the house he worked at—I did not arrest that wan, because he did not affect this case—you said he was at a public-house in Soho—I went to the pawn-shop you told me, and got the watch, I think—we could not find the man from the description you gave—you gave a clear description—we tried to find him—I have advanced some of the witnesses a shilling to get themselves something to eat while they were waiting, as they had no money to boy food with.

JAMES SCANDRETK (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). I cannot find any nail marks on the cupboard; there were marks; they may have been tilled up.

FREDERICK FOX (Police Sergeant F). On Thursday, 7th August, I went with Scandreth to the top front-room of 39, Colonnade, Russell Square, where I saw Haywood in bed—I said "We are detectives; we shall arrest you for committing various burglaries, one at 15, Burton Crescent, and one at 39, Great Pulteney Street on Monday last"—he replied "I know nothing about it"—I said "Lie still in bed, and you will see what we do"—this was 4 a.m.—I looked into a cupboard and there found a brooch and bangle, since identified by Miss Hutchinson, of Burton Creecent, as hers—I said "This is the part proceeds of a burglary in Burton Crescent"—Haywood said "You have got me straight, it is no good now Have you got Strike and Murray?"—Scandreth found a dark lantern and a number of skeleton keys in the room—I also found some pawn-tickets in Haywood's room; they referred to some property which has since been identified by Miss Hutchinson as the proceeds of a burglary on 24th July; also a tablecloth, stolen from Mr. Brand's, Keppel Street, and a black dress from Guildford Street—we then went to 47, Neale Street, where Murray and O'Keefe were lying on a mattress—I told them we were detectives, and should arrest them for being concerned in burglaries, one at 39, Pulteney Street—Murray said "You have got a b——y good tip from some one; who is it? You have got us straight"—O'Keefe said "Who has put you on to us?"—Scandreth found some skeleton keys and a jemmy in the room—I saw him it the jemmy into the marks at Great Pulteney Street; it was a peculiar jemmy—I had seen Murray and Haywood together about three times before; I have kept observation on them in consequence of what I know.

Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I cannot say when the robbery occurred—I last saw Murray and Haywood together on 5th August—the robbery at Great Pulteney Street was on 4th August—I saw them four or live days before that in Crown Street, Seven Dials; I made no report of it; they were outside a public-house with several other men—he was more in Haywood's company than in that of the others, because they were speaking together more intimately—I did not hear what they were talking about—I have been in the force some years, and am pretty well known to some people—I was not many yards away—I saw them talking

about a quarter of an hour—Scandreth was in the room and heard this statement besides me—I heard Scandreth give his evidence at the police-court, and the beginning of it here before I was ordered out of Court—there were two children lying on the mattress when we were there—I made these notes of the conversation at the time, in the room—I generally make my notes on these odd slips of paper, which are supplied for our use—we might get such a slip three or four days afterwards if we wanted to.

Cross-examined by Haywood. You answered you knew nothing about it when I came—I found nothing on you—you were in bed, with only your shirt on—three of the pawn-tickets referred to property that had been identified—I swear I did not call out "Who owns these pawn-tickets?"—I said "I have some pawn-tickets here", and put them in my pocket—I have only found out at present about three tickets, they relate to property stolen from Burton Crescent—there were seven tickets—lam not quite satisfied that the others do not relate to stolen property, I have sot finished the inquiry about them—I cannot say who pawned them, there are only initials on some—I have made no inquiries about the coat pawned for 10s.—a gold locket and chain were found at Smith's, a pawnbroker's in the Tottenham Court Road; they were proceeds of a burglar in Burton Crescent, and were pawned by a man.

WILLIAM READER (Detective E). I went with Langrish to Chard's place, where I found some jewellery, identified by Mr. Sampson as the proceeds of a burglary on 20th April; two clocks, identified by Mr. Pocock as the proceeds of a robbery on 11th April; a pair of opera glasses, by Mr. Large as the proceeds of one on 23rd March; a clock, by Miss Martin as the proceeds of one of 3rd August; a clock, the proceeds of one on 4th August, and another clock, the proceeds of one at Captain Lovett's, Jermyn Street, on 5th November, 1883.

SARAH SMITH . I am housekeeper to Captain Lovett, 132, Jermya Street—on 4th November this clock was safe in the drawing-room at 8 o'clock—the place was broken open and ransacked, and this clock among other things was taken away; this stand, which belongs to it, was left behind.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have no servant under me; I settle Captain Lovett's chambers.

WILLIAM HENRY LARGE . I live at Fern Lea, Bellevue Road, Wands-worth Common, and am a riding-master—on 23rd March I lost 10 plated spoons, forks, and other articles of the total value of 50l.—I have since seen some of my forks and spoons and my watch, and identified them.

SIDNEY POCOCK . I am a builder, of 713, Wandsworth Road—on 11th April two clocks were stolen from my premises—I have since seen those two clocks found at Mr. Chard's—these are they.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Neither of the clocks were made specially to my order—this I picked out from photographs shown me by the agent of a firm in St. Mary Axe, no name is on it.

Re-examined. I swear to this clock by the chipping of red marble, and the other one I identify by its general appearance.

ROSA SAMPSON . I am the wife of Robert Sampson, of 93, Salcott Road, Wandsworth Common—on 20th April during my absence our front door was forced, the house broken into, and a quantity of property, including a set of gold studs, a gold chain, gold and silver earrings, and a locket, which

were all safe in the house the day before, were mining—these are our property.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I should say 3l. 10s. would be about the value of the property.

ESTHER MESHUM . I live at Guildford Lodge, Balsam—on 8th June I left my jewel case on the marble piece in my bedroom about half-past 5 or 6 o'clock—I left ray room for a quarter of an hour, and when I came back the jewel case was stolen—I loot property to the amount of 400l. or 600l.—this ring, amethyst, and brooch are part of the stolen property—I found the diamond myself at the diamond fields.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. It had ft different appearance then, my husband had it made up in Natal, I recognise it partly by its colour, there is no mark on it, there is no difference in the workmanship of the ring—I used to wear it a great deal—I should certainly say it was mine—when I lost the amethyst it was in a brooch—it is a peculiar shade—I should swear it was mine, it has been many years in the family—I know it on account of its shape and colour—it is cut as an amethyst in a brooch would be cut.

Re-examined. To the best of my belief these are my property.

EMILY HUTCHINSON . I keep a lodging house at 15, Burton Crescent—on the night of 15th July my house was robbed and I missed a quantity of property—I have since seen a necklet, locket, brooch and earrings, and skirt, which I have identified as mine.

Witnesses for the defence of Murray.

SAMUEL WIGNAL . I am a painter and work for different masters when I can—I last worked fur Mr. Davis—on Bank Holiday, 4th August I met Murray at the Cobden's Statue, Camden Town, by appointment just Wore 12 o'clock in the morning, nobody else was with me—we strolled about Camden Town and then went to the park and strolled about there till between 4 and 5 o'clock—he did not leave my company during that time—we strolled home and got to Mr. Martin Murray's, his brother's place at Berwick Street, between 5 and 6 o'clock—then we had tea together and played at draughts and stopped indoors till pretty near ten o'clock—we then went out, and I parted from him at 11 o'clock at night in Great Pulteney Street—during all that time he did not leave me.

Cross-examined. I am in occasional work—Murray is a tailor—he occasionally works—I have known him nine or ten years—I was before the Magistrate one day, but was not called, and gave no evidence—I did not hear Murray asked if he called witnesses—a gentleman in Court told me I was not required, I don't know who he was—Murray was represented by a solicitor, I believe.

Re-examined. I was told the Magistrate said he should send the case for trial and I could be called as a witness here.

MARTIN MURRAY . I am a tailor, living at 39, Berwick Street, Oxford Street—the prisoner Murray is my brother—on the August Bank Holiday he culled on me by himself at 11 o'clock a.m. at my place. 39, Berwick Street—he remained about three-quarters of an hour, and then we both went to meet Mr. Wignal at Camden Town—we met him, went for a walk, and then into the park, stopped there for a few hours, and then came home to my place and had tea—they stopped till 10 o'clock playing draughts, and my brother left my company at 12.30 at night in Great Pulteney Street—he was not out of my company till he left altogether.

Cross-examined. I am working for Mr. Baker—my brother worked for me sometimes—I was not called before the Magistrate, I was there—I knew I could prove where my brother was on Bank Holiday—he had a solicitor.

O'Keefe in his defence stated that on 14th July he was admitted into the hospital suffering from consumption and Bright's disease; he explained that he had become implicated in the affair through having gone several times to 39, Colonnade with a prostitute; he asserted that Murray was not to blame as he had merely given him a lodging out of generosity, and that he had the keys from a man in the street and threw them in the gutter. Haywood said that all the things found at the place where he was with the woman had been given to her as presents by the men who came to see her, and that although the police had been watching him they had seen him do nothing suspicious.

CHARD received a good character.

All GUILTY of receiving O'KEEFE* MURRAY,** and HAY WOOD**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each. CHARD— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

DONALD ROBERTSON (warder) proved a previous conviction against O'Keefe, who was sentenced to Ten Years, Penal Servitude for feloniously wounding, 21 months of that sentence still remaining unexpired. The COMMON SERJEANT ordered that it should run concurrently with the present sentence 150l. was found on Chard. The COMMON SERJEANT ordered that 75l. of that sum should go towards the expenses of the prosecution.

NEW COURT—Saturday, September 20th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-895
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

895. HENRY PERCY FISHER (18) , Feloniously assaulting and robbing Walter Frederick Plumbridge, and stealing 3l. 12s. his moneys.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.

WALTER FREDERICK PLUMBRIDGE . I am assistant to my father, James Plumbridge, a fruiterer, of 22, Fenchurch Street—the prisoner was in his employ—on 18th August my father was indisposed and went home about 5.30 p.m., leaving me and the prisoner in the shop—about 6.40 I made up the money in the till, amounting to 4l. 10s.—I put it in my right breast pocket in two paper packets, and made them up in one packet—the prisoner was in the shop—a little time afterwards he said "I smell an escape of gas"—I said I could not—we looked round at the burners—he opened the cellar flap under the shop and leaned down and said he could smell it there—I told him to stop in the shop while I went down and attended to it—I went down; he said he would come and help me—he came down the ladder—it was dark—I saw where the gas came from—he put his arms round my waist, tore my coat, and wrenched out the pocket—I said I was not going to let him have the money—we had a struggle and part of the money fell on the floor—he rushed up the steps into the shop, he had his hat ready, and went towards Gracechurch Street—I could not follow him as I was in charge—the next morning I found 18s. on the cellar floor.

THOMAS DOWSE (City Policeman). I took the prisoner at Crewe on 8th September on a warrant, which I read to him—he said "I plead guilty to breaking the gaspipe and taking the money because I wanted money to go to my friends in Birmingham."

JAMES PLUMBRIDGE . I received this post-card on 19th August—I believe it to be the prisoner's writing. (This stated that the character he received was false, that his brother was a confederate; that he had put the police off the track and was off to New York by the next boat.) He had been in my service about three months.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-896
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

896. JOSEPH VALENTINE (21) and WALTER HAYFORD (26) , Breaking and entering the warehouse of Siegfried Hermann Weiler, with intent to steal.

MR. ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted.

GEORGE REED (City Policeman 173). About 2.10 a.m. on 15th July I was on duty in Charles Street, Barbican—I saw the prisoners coming over a hoarding; I overtook them and seized Hayford; I missed Valentine and sung out and sprang my rattle for another officer, who stopped him—I took Hayford to the station—I charged him with being on the ground for an unlawful purpose—I found nothing on Valentine.

Cross-examined by Valentine. I was about forty yards from you when you got over the hoarding—your backs were smothered with starch or muck of some description.

Cross-examined by Hayford. You were only out of my sight for a second when you turned to the left—I apprehended you in Francis Street; you said "I was just walking round."

SAMUEL SMALE (City Policeman 203.) On 15th July I heard a rattle in Australian Avenue, and a voice say "Stop him"—I looked up Thorne's Alley and saw Valentine running—I ran after him—he said "I will give in"—I took him to the station—I searched Hayford and found these keys in his several pockets, this tobacco-box, these two pins, and this metal ticket—he was charged with being on vacant ground for in unlawful purpose.

Cross-examined by Valentine. I was on a hoarding warming my tea—you were running towards me and I jumped down and caught you.

HENRY EVC (City Policeman 68). After the prisoners were in custody I went with Reed and inspected 35, Barbican, Mr. Weiler's premises—I found some marks on the low wall and on the long iron water pipe to a window on the ground floor, which is rather high; the window was broken and some pieces of glass were carefully taken out and laid in the corner of the window sill on the top of one another—the window and the ledge inside were covered with red starch, which is used for ostrich feathers—the swing window was unbolted and open—we found marks of Hayford's boots on the window ledge and the top of the cupboard under the window—the boot was worn in the centre with nails across—I found starch on their boots similar to that used in the warehouse—Valentine's boots are plain with no brass—I found the impressions of two pairs of boots—I found similar marks on the ground inside; they returned the same way back again, we could trace them, and they loft the impression of their boots on the wall—we found similar footmarks on the enclosure and on the footpath outside the hoarding—the prisoners must have laid in the starch, as they were smothered—I found this jemmy in the enclosure at the rear of No. 37, and close to the hoarding where the prisoners were seen to have dropped down I found this other jemmy (produced)I showed the jemmys to the prisoners in their cells, they said

they knew nothing about them—they were charged with breaking and entering the warehouse; they made no reply.

Cross-examined by Valentine. I said at the station "They are not the boots," because we were looking for the nails, and there were none on your boots—I said at Guildhall that I was not satisfied with my examination of the premises, and I asked another constable to pay special attention to them.

Re-examined. I said at the police-court "I never said I examined these premises and they were all right"—that is true.

CHARLES BARNARD . I am the prosecutor's porter—about 5 p.m. on 14th July I shut up the premises—the window which has been referred to was fastened—when I came in the morning I found the ornamental top of a cupboard towards the middle of the room—the room also contained trestles, forms, and a desk—outside the room were ostrich feathers in boxes.

(At Hayford's request, the witness showed the bottoms of his boots, which Eve, on being recalled, said were not like impressions he had deposed to.)

The prisoners in their defences said that they went over the hoarding to relieve themselves, and there was a wall between where they went and the premises.


They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions of felony, Valentine** in the name of John Banks, in February, 1880, at Clerkenwell, and Hayford** in the name of Walter Sounders, in September, 1877, at Westminster.— Ten Years each in Penal Servitude .

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-897
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

897. DAVID GEORGE BROOKS (46) , Feloniously marrying Esther Betts during the life of his wife.

MR. BROUN Prosecuted.

SAMUEL HARMAN . I live at 54, Benedict Street, Bethnal Green—on 8th February, 1863, at St. James's Church, Curtain Road, Shoreditch, I gave Ellen Callister to wife to David George Brooks—I produce a copy of the certificate.

ESTHER BETTS . I live at Orange House, Park Grove, Stoke Newington—I have known the prisoner four years—I went through the marriage ceremony with him on 16th May, 1881, at St. John the Baptist, Islington—he said his wife had been dead about six years—I had known him about nine months—I do not wish to press the charge; he is very kind—he was unhappy with his first wife for 11 years—I did not know them when living together.

CHARLES NUTKINS (Detective Officer). I arrested the prisoner—he said "I did not know my first wife was alive; she left me and took the things, and I did not trouble about her; I wrote to Lloyd's Newspaper, and the answer was that I could marry again"—Betts said "You did not try to find her, I found her within three days; your mother knew she was alive"—the prisoner replied "I did not know it, you know more than I do"—I have compared the certificates—they are correct copies.

AGNES FRANCIS . I live at 33, Bandon Street, Victoria Park, and am the prisoner's sister—he lived with his wife about eight years ago—he has since spoken of her—it "was a very unhappy marriage, and we never liked to mention it—I have not seen her since they parted till within the last few days.

The prisoner in his defence stated that his wife left him and was living in

adultery, and he knew nothing of her for seven years, and then he wrote to "Lloyd's Newspaper," and was told that he could not be indicted for bigamy, and he considered that he had not committed bigamy.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-898
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

898. WILLIAM PARKER (19) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Levi, and stealing 9 lb. of beef, his property.


JOHN LEVI . I am a purveyor of fruit, of 40, Morning Lane, Hackney—I keep my kitchen window closed—at 5 a.m. on 17th August I found it open, and missed 9 1/2 lb. of beef—this bar (produced) was broken.

HENRY SMITH . I am a lamplighter, at 28, Morning Lane—on 17th August, about 5.40, I was coming up Morning Lane, and saw the prisoner stooping down and forcing the bars of the prosecutor's window—he noticed me and danced on the pavement with another man—I went home—I have known him since he was a boy—I did not speak to him, I. was tired—when I heard the beef was gone I told Levi what I had seen—I was taken to the station and picked the prisoner out.

JAMES FLETCHER (Policeman N). On 17th August, about 10.45, I took the prisoner—I charged him with breaking into Mr. Levi's shop—he said "I think you have made a mistake, it was not me, I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station—he was placed among 10 or 12 others, Smith picked him out, and the prisoner said he would do for him.

Prisoner's Defence. I came down Morning Lane and spoke to a young chap, and left him. He asked me where I was going, and I said to look for work. I am innocent of taking any meat.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-899
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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899. CHARLES FOSTER (27) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Lorey, with intent to commit a felony.


WILLIAM LOREY . I am a painter, of 3, Frederick Place, Hornsey Road—on 3rd August I went to bed at 1.30—I was the last person up, and saw the doors and windows securely fastened—about 3.30 I was awakened by the jackdaw scratching in my bedroom—I got out of bed, and saw the prisoner on his hands and knees between two boxes at the foot of the bed—I touched him; he rose up—I seized him by the collar—we struggled—my sister helped me, and my wife called for a constable—the prisoner jumped downstairs, and I fell over him—he tried to get out at the kitchen window, but a constable apprehended him half in and half out of the window—the window-catch had been tried by a penknife or sharp instrument, and a square of glass had been broken—the prisoner had no boots on.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. We did not break the window in the struggle—the Wardells used to live in the house, but they left 18 months ago.

Re-examined. The prisoner's brother used to keep a shop opposite.

EMMELINE TAYLOR . I live at 3, Frederick's Place—I am a sister of the prosecutor's wife—about 3.30 a.m. on 3rd August I was aroused by my sister calling me—I went to her bedroom, and found Lorey holding the prisoner by the collar—there was a struggle, and the prisoner jumped downstairs—I fell on the top of them—I took hold of the prisoner—he made for the back-kitchen window, and got half way out—he struck me in the eye—then a policeman came.

RICHARD TALBOT (Policeman Y 356). I heard the cry of "Police"—I ran to the prosecutor's house, and found the prisoner half in and half out of the kitchen window—his boots were off; I found them in the kitchen—I took him in custody, searched him at the station, and found a knife, a box of matches, a latchkey, a pawn-ticket, and several other articles—I found marks on the kitchen window-sash which corresponded with this knife—the prisoner made no reply to the charge.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Right opposite this place my brother used to keep a greengrocer's shop. I knew the people who used to live at the prosecutor's house, and thought they lived there still, and got over the back wall and got in to have a sleep, as I knew the people. It in three or four yearn since I was in the place.

"He repeated the same statement in his defence.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell in July, 1876.—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-900
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

900. JAMES WELLS (19) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas James Clark, and stealing five boxes of cigars, a bottle of wine, and 5s., his goods and moneys.

MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.

THOMAS JAMES CLARK . I was the proprietor of the Star public-house, Star Street, Shad well, on 23rd July—about 2.30 a.m. I was called by the police—I went down and let them in—I found the bar in great confusion, glass being strewn about, the till out of its place and emptied—I missed five boxes of cigars from a cabinet, a gallipot containing about 4s. worth of farthings and a sixpence, a small bottle of port wine, and about 4s.—the taproom window was broken and open—from the taproom any one could get straight into the bar—I saw a bunch of keys which I had left behind the bar hung up—I went to bed about 12.30—the house was securely fastened—the police made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went to the station about 3 o'clock and identified five boxes of cigars, value 3l., and a bottle of port wine.

Cross-examined. My name is not on the bottle—the cigars I missed were of the same character as those produced.

JOHN CATHCART (Policeman H 410). I was on duty in Gravel Lane—Policeman Matthews spoke to me—I went down New Gravel Lane, and heard Matthews call out, "Stop him"—I saw the prisoner coming from Millet Yard; I called upon him to stop; he continued to run—as he turned into the court I hit him with my stick; he stopped, and I took him—going to the station he put his hand in his right-hand jacket pocket—I put my hand in his pocket and took out a small bottle of port wine and a dozen cigars of the sample produced—when charged he made this statement, which I took down in writing: "I was coming through Millet Yard when I met a chap; he asked me if I would have a cigar; I said 'Yes;' he gave me the cigars and the bottle to have a drink"—the bottle was full of port.

Cross-examined. The prisoner was meeting me—I was in uniform—I did not know he was a lighterman—Shadwell Basin was about 500 yards off—sometimes lightermen go to work at night—I have been told that he is apprenticed to his father as a lighterman.

Re-examined. He was running about 200 yards from the Star, and coming from it, when I saw him pursued by another constable.

GEOROE MATTHEWS (Policeman H 270). I was on duty in New Gravel Lane about 2 a.m. on 23rd July—I received information and went to Millet Yard—I met the prisoner and another man; they separated—Wells threw something from his left coat pocket in the road and ran away—the other man ran in the other direction—I pursued the prisoner up Millet Yard into New Gravel Lane, calling "Stop him"—Policeman 410 H took up the chase, and we took him—he said at the station that a young man gave them to him—I went back to Millet Yard and found about 50 of these cigars strewing the roadway—I then went back to the public-house, which is 70 or 80 yards from Millet Yard.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was walking through Millet Yard, and the things were given to me. I have no witness.

The prisoner received a good character.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-901
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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901. FRANCIS HOUGHTON , Feloniously wounding Sarah Louisa Houghton, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm. Second Count, causing her grievous bodily harm.


SABAH LOUISA HOUGHTON . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 50, Loander Street, Haggerston—I was living with him up to last night—in May last we were living at Temple Street, Hackney Road—on 26th May, about 11 p.m., I had been out, and did not tell him where I had been to, and we had some very high words—he hit me in the mouth with a tumbler; it was my own fault; it cut my lip, but I aggravated him—I have no recollection of his scratching me—he gave me one kick on the leg—I have no recollection of what I said at the police-court—I do not remember anything else that took place—on 30th May I was taken to the infirmary, but my husband had fetched a doctor before then—I felt the place where he kicked me, but I was not in bed all the next day—this it correct, "My leg was so bad that I could not stand up"—I did not remain in bed till taken to the infirmary—I was up on the Wednesday.

Cross-examined. My husband at other times has been very kind, and if it had not been for the drink it would not have happened—I gave him a good deal of aggravation that night—he was excited with drink, and came home about 9.30; I was sober—he has found fault with me at times for being late—I never struck him—we were having our supper when he struck me with the glare.

JOHN WILLIAM SAUNDERS . I am assistant medical officer of Bethnal Green Infirmary—Mrs. Houghton was admitted there on 30th May suffering from two confused wounds on her left leg an inch in circumference; her whole leg was bruised and inflamed—the contused wounds would be caused by a violent blow, it might be a kick—there was a wound over her right elbow three-quarters of an inch long, slightly jagged, which might be caused by something sharp like earthenware—there was an inched wound on her scalp an inch and a half long, at the back part of the right side of the face, which had been caused by a knife or some sharp instrument—there were scratches and cuts of minor importance over her hands, neck, and face—her breast and back were bruised, and she had two black eyes—she remained in the infirmary till 22nd August—she was in very serious danger for about a fortnight, first from the scalp wound and latterly from the wound on her leg; her life was in danger—her husband came to the infirmary as often as he was allowed

to see her—we sent for him one Light, because we thought she was dying—he appeared very kind to her.

Cross-examined. The scalp wound might have set up inflammation of the membranes of the brain—it was a quarter of an inch deep, down to the bone, and an inch and a half long—the wounds on her elbow might have been caused by a fall on a sharp substance, and possibly those on her head might, but that is improbable—I do not think the majority of the wounds might be accounted for by a fall.

CHARLES GAVELL (Policeman K 305). On 30th May I saw the prisoner at the infirmary about 9.30 p.m.—I took him in custody; I charged him—he said, "I did not do it."

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The prosecutrix stated that she had no means of living without her husband, who before and since had been kind to her.— To enter into his own recognisance in 20l. to keep the peace for six month and to come up for judgment when called upon .

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-902
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

902. MATTHEW HERMANN (24) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Walter Gosden, with intent to steal.

MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted.

RICHARD CRAFTER . I am night porter at the Inns of Court Hotel—on September 5th, between 2.15 and 2.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner at the coffee-room window, which was open—he had his head and shoulders leaning in—I took hold of him, held him, sent for a policeman, and gave him in custody—the window had been closed—there is a railing from which he could get on to the sill.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. All the windows were closed at 12.30—there was a light in the room.

WILLIAM BATEMAN (Policeman E 379). I found the prisoner on his knees on the window sill with the window open—I took him in custody and searched him, but found no articles belonging to the hotel.

Prisoner's Defence. (Interpreted). I did nothing wrong. I did not open the window. I only looked into the room.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-903
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

903. JOHN ESP (56) and JOHN SMITH (40) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Nugent Dunbar, with intent to steal.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.

SARAH ANN WALLER . I am cook to Mr. Dunbar, of 59, Brompton Square—on 14th August, about 10 p.m., I went round the house with another servant, and saw it secure—I went to bed in a ground-floor room—about 4 a.m. I heard a scratching noise close to my bedroom window at the back of the house—the other servant spoke to me, and I looked out and saw a man lying on a piece of wood, which another man was steadying—I went out at the front door and spoke to a policeman in about five minutes, and he went to get help—I saw him go to the back—I afterwards went to the station, and saw the prisoners in custody—I found the window the same as I left it the previous night—the piece of wood made a kind of bridge—a man could have got across it into the house—I was about four yards from the prisoners when I saw them.

ALFRED NASH (Policeman B 706). I was in Savile Place, and heard a noise over the wall at the back of 59, Brompton Square, about 4 a.m.—I examined the wall, and saw scratches—assistance came, and I went

through the house with Sarah Ann Waller—when in the passage I saw Smith leaning on a piece of board—Esp was on the top of the larder steadying the wood—Smith had this chisel trying to heave the window up—I undid the catch, threw the window up, and jumped up after them—they ran and got over the wall into No. 58, where I captured them, and held them till I got the assistance of another constable—we took them to the station—I found on Esp a small screwdriver and a key—on searching the premises I found this large screwdriver and knife—I brought them, and showed them to them—I asked them where they had found them—they made no reply—I found scratches on the window sill—I saw the prisoners about half or three-quarters of an hour before that, loitering under a tree—one is a blacksmith, the other a labourer.

Cross-examined by Smith. I mentioned at the police-court about prising the window. (This was not in the depositions.)

MARY WALLER (Examined by Esp). I was behind the constable—you were close to the window; I could have taken hold of you—I saw the marks on the window.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months Hard Labour each .

THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 20th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-904
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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904. ELIZABETH FRANCIS , Feloniously, by force, taking away and detaining Barnett Jacobs, a child, from his mother, with intent to deprive her of his possession.

MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.

ABIGAIL PHILLIPS . I am married, and live at 3, Shepherdess Buildings, Commercial Street, Spitalfields—in the summer of 1878 I was single, and my name was Jacobs—I had a little boy whom I named Barnett—when he was 18 months old I agreed with the prisoner that she should keep him for me at the rate of 3s. 6d. a week, and I was to see him two or three times every day if I wished—she was then living in Acorn Street, Bishopsgate Street—I paid the money, and saw my child as agreed—afterwards I moved to Bell Lane; I told the prisoner so, and she brought the child there for me to see it—after she had had the child for about three weeks I told her I was about to be married, and that my future husband wished the child to live with us—I then lost sight of both the prisoner and the child—I tried to find the child day after day and night after night—I called at the place I had left it at two or three days after, and found she was gone and the child—I made inquiries, but could not find the child—on the 11th inst. I called at Hare Street, Brick Lane, a fish shop kept by Mrs. Silver—I there saw the prisoner sitting down in the house—I knew her directly—I asked her where Willie Francis went to school, because the prisoner went by the name of Francis—I had known her by the name of Hall—I had a conversation with Mrs. Silver, and ascertained that my child was at the infant school not very far off—I afterwards saw him; ha was grown—I said to the prisoner "This is the way you have served me, you have ruined my very heart after so long a time"—I have been in a hospital, and am in a consumption now through fretting over the child—she said "Yes, it is your child; I hope you will forgive me"—I said "I cannot forgive you"—I went to the station with her.

Cross-examined. I saw the child every day for about three weeks after

the prisoner had it—then a short time after I was engaged to be married and she came to my place, and I told her I was going to be married, and I did not see her after that—a few days after I went round, and she was gone—she had left no address and no letter for me—I searched everywhere I could think of for the child, and at last went before the Magistrate, and he gave me a warrant for her apprehension—there was no understanding when she had the child that she was to have it for a long time—if I had not been married I should not have left it with her for long, but as I was in the dressmaking trade I thought she might mind it in the day for me.

Re-examined. It must be nearly five years ago—I applied to the Magistrate for a warrant after making every search I could for the child.

HANNAH BROWN . I live at 6, Acorn Street—the prisoner lived on the ground-floor of the same house in the name of Hall for some nine years up to 1878—she was married, but had no children—a gentleman was there, I cannot say if he was her husband, they passed as man and wife—I remember Mrs. Phillips bringing a little boy about 18 months old there, and about three or four weeks afterwards I heard the prisoner was gone—I did not know where she had gone to, she left no address.

Cross-examined. She went away with the person I supposed was her husband—she did not tell me any reason why she left—she made no concealment about its being Jacob's child—I was informed the man was a shoemaker—I was not the landlady, and know nothing about their rent; I was a tenant, the same as they were.

JULIA CAROLINE REED . I am the mistress of St. Matthias Infant School, 33, Hare Street, Bethnal Green—I produce a book of the scholars, among whom is William Francis, that is the little boy Barnett Jacobs—he was brought to the school on 6th May—my sister admitted him; I was away at the time—he was being brought up a Christian—he was a healthy little boy, well cared for and nourished, not very well clothed, but as well as poor people can afford—he brought his fee, 2d., week by week.

SAMUEL BACON (City Detective). I knew there was a warrant out for the apprehension of the prisoner for stealing the little boy—about half-past 2 on 11th September I went with Mrs. Phillips to the fish-shop in Hare Street, where I saw the prisoner—I said "Mrs. Hall, you will have to go to Bishopsgate Police-station with me. There was a warrant issued between five and six years ago charging you with stealing a little boy"—she said "I didn't steal it; I went to try and find the mother, but could not"—the prosecutrix said "Did not you say, Mrs. Hall, that that was my little boy"—she said "Yes, that is your boy"—I then took her to Bishopsgate Street Police-station—on the warrant being read she said "I don't think I stole the child, he has cost me a lot of money"—she said she liked the child, and kept it.

BARNETT JACOBS . I am a labourer, and the prosecutrix's brother—I saw the prisoner go to Bell Lane with the little boy—I worked in the next street to the prisoner—she knew me well—she gave me no intimation as to where she was gone from Acorn Street.

MRS. PHILLIPS (Re-examined). I moved from Acorn Street to 78, Bell Street; the prisoner came to me there—I did not change my address when I married.

GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury— Six Weeks' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-905
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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905. EDWIN LLOYD (27) , Unlawfully obtaining from Charlotte Holdaway a coat, a waistcoat, and other articles, by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and other things from other persons, with a like intent.

MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.

CHARLOTTE HOLDAWAY . I am George William Holadway's wife, and live at 1 Block, Peabody's Buildings, Golden Lane—he is a packer—on 13th August the prisoner, whom I did not know before, came to my house about half-past 6 p.m. and said "I have come from your husband's shop, he has met with an accident; he has been larking, and they have put him in a tank of water, and he cannot come home until you send him a fresh suit of clothes"—I gave him a suit of clothes, two shirts, and a pair of socks, and he went away, and when my husband came home he knew nothing at all about it.

By the COURT. I will swear to the prisoner; I recognise him by his voice and features—I parted with the clothes because I believed what the prisoner said.

GEORGE WILLIAM HOLDAWAT . I am the last witness's husband—I met with no accident at all on 13th August, and did not send the prisoner for a suit of clothes for me—I do not know him at all—I have never seen the suit of clothes since he took them away.

EDITH LOWTHER BAILEY . I am Charles Albert Bailey's wife, of 7, Bennett Street, Stamford Street, Blackfriars—on 13th August the prisoner came to my house at half-past 2 and asked me if the name of Bailey was there—I said "Yes"—he said "I want Mrs. Bailey"—I said "I am Mrs. Bailey"—he said "Your husband has met with a serious accident; he is not hurt, but very well. He was in a public-house this morning with some friends, and owing to the heat a barrel of gin burst and he wants an entire change of clothing"—I hesitated a moment, because my baby was ill, and then said "Do you work for Mr. Bailey?"—Mr. Bailey is a bootmaker—he said "No, I work at the Gazette office, opposite"—knowing the Gazette office I believed his story, and went upstairs, got the clothes, and gave the prisoner an overcoat, a pair of trousers, a waist-coat, a white shirt, an under-vest, a pair of drawers, and some socks—he took them away—I am positive the prisoner is the man who took them away—when my husband came home I found out it was false, and informed the police.

CHARLES ALBERT BAILEY . I am the last witness's husband—I do not know the prisoner at all—I met with no accident on 13th August; no barrel of gin burst over me—I did not send the prisoner for any clothes.

ELIZABETH PORCH . I am Stephen Porch's wife, of 131, Hollowell Road, Shoreditch, he is a contractor's foreman—on 12th August the prisoner came to our house between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning—I had never seen him before—he said my husband had met with an acci-dent down at the Great Western Railway-station, a barrel of paraffin had fallen off the load and had so saturated him with paraffin that he must really have a fresh suit of clothes—my daughter called me stupid because I was putting up his best suit, and I put up an old suit and gave them to the prisoner because I believed his story—I have never seen the clothes again—I am quite sure the prisoner is the man.

STEPHEN PORCH . I am last witness's husband—on 12th August I met with no accident—I did not send the prisoner home for any clothes—on Monday, 11th August, the day before, he called at my house between 10

and 11—I answered the door when he knocked—he said "Mr. Porch?"—I said "Yes, my name is Porch"—he said "I have been informed that you want some one on the vans"—that was on the railway vans—I said "No, I am not in want of any one; there is no vacancy whatever."

THOMAS CUMMINGS (Policeman G 234). On Sunday, 17th August, I apprehended the prisoner, having had a description of him—I told him I should take him into custody for obtaining clothes by false pretences—he said "It is not me, I know nothing about it"—this was at Highgate Infirmary, where he had been to visit his mother, who was lying ill.

The prisoner in his defence denied all knowledge of the matter, and stated that he had never seen the prosecutors before they came to the police-station.

GUILTY .** Eight previous convictions were proved against the prisoner.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-906
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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906. ELLEN BOATWRIGHT (29) , Feloniously wounding John Allen Markham, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.

WILLIAM FILL (Policeman S 31). At ten minutes past 2 on the early morning of Sunday, 27th July. Mcalpine called at the station and in consequence of what he said I went to University College Hospital, where I saw the prosecutor Markham suffering from a stab, and in consequence of what Markham said I went to 18, Fitzroy Place and knocked at the door; the prisoner opened it—before I spoke she said "I know what you want; he came home drunk swearing at me, broke the bed, threw dirty water over me and the child, and I did then what any other women would have done, I have opened his back"—she was drenched with water, and I could see water had been thrown on the bed; the child was wet likewise—I searched the room and found this knife, with stains of blood on it; the doctor has examined it.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The bed was covered with water and the bedclothes all torn up; the child was between two and three years old.

JOHN ALLEN MARKHAM . I am a French polisher, and have been living with the prisoner at 18, Fitzroy Place, Euston Road—the child is not mine—on 27th July I came home very drunk and asked the prisoner what she had been doing, where she had been to—I took up the tub of water and threw it over the bed, her, and the child, and then I felt a stab in the small of the back near the spine; the prisoner stabbed me—she was behind me and was the only person in the room besides me and the child—I was stabbed on the aim and in the back—I said at the police-court I was only stabbed once, I was only stabbed in the back—I had my coat and waistcoat on.

Cross-examined. I fell over the bedstead—I was not cut by the corner of the iron bedstead—we have lived together well for nine years—this is the first time this has happened.

JOHN MCAIPINE . I live at 18, Fitzroy Place, and am a slater—on Sunday morning, 27th July, I heard the prosecutor calling for assistance, went down to his room and found him bleeding from the back—in the prisoner's presence he said "She has stabbed me"—I said "Who?"—he said "Nell"—I saw she was holding the knife in her right hand—she was wet and the child and the bed were wet—I took the prosecutor to the hospital, and his wounds were dressed—I left the knife under the table—when he said "Nell" she said nothing.

JOHN ALLEN MARKHAM (Re-examined by the Prisoner). Four months ago I cut you on the head with a can—you do not go out to work to keep me—I do work at French polishing; I have since I have lived with you—you were in the hospital three weeks after I cut you on the head—you did not lock me up—I have worked since we came together—I did not call your sister's child a bastard—I did not say I gave it to you out of charity when I gave you 5d. or 6d. a day.

By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I did not know the prisoner was locked up till I came out of the hospital—I worked for Mr. Simpson at a milkshop two days ago cleaning his windows—I should say it was nine months since I worked at French polishing.

ARTHUR JOHN DREW . I am house-surgeon at University College Hospital—on the early morning of Sunday, 27th July, the prosecutor was brought in—I examined him—I found on his back an incised wound in the intercostal space between the ninth and tenth rib; it penetrated into his lung—the lung is now perfectly healed—this knife could have caused such a wound—I saw another wound on his left arm, that was nothing serious.

By the COURT. I could not say what depth the wound was—he was in the hospital eight days—he is perfectly well now.

The prisoner in a written defence stated that her husband came home drunk, tore up the bedclothes, and threw a pail of water over the bed, baby, and hereself, and that she then got so excited that she did not know what happened.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the strong provocation she received. The prosecutor also recommended her to mercy.— Three Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-907
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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907. JAMES BARGE , Burglary in the dwelling-house of James Brazier, with intent to steal.

MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted

MARGARET SHEA . I am in the service of Mr. James Brazier, a coffee-house keeper of 71, Wells Street, Oxford Street—I do not sleep in the house—on the night of the 21st of July I left the house about 8 o'clock—between 12 and half-past I was standing at the corner of the street when I saw the prisoner let himself in at 71 with a street-door key—I rang the kitchen bell outside and gave the alarm, and that fetched the prosecutor down.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I worked at the house, I live at 7, Marlboro' Passage, right opposite—I left at 8 to come home, not to leave the service altogether—I always stand at the corner of that street every night—when I finish work I go home, and then come and stand at the corner—I do not walk the streets—I have got a father and mother at home.

JAMES BRAZIER . I keep a coffee-house at 71, Wells Street, and live there—on 21st July I went to bed about 12 o'clock—about 12 I was alarmed by the ringing of a bell and a knock on the grating—I came downstairs to the street door, when I saw the prisoner come out of the private street door, which was the door I was standing at—he was in the house, I saw him coming out facing me—the door opens into a passage—the prisoner was in the passage—I said "You are just the man I have

been looking for"—he said he had been upstairs to see a young lady; the young lady, Miss Herring, was then sent for to come downstairs, she was lodging in the top part of the house—I asked if she knew anything of the prisoner; she said she did not—the prisoner heard that—she is not here nor was she called at the police-court—another young lady came down they lived in separate rooms and are two different families—they both denied all knowledge of him—one had seen him previously, but he was not there to see her—I sent for a constable.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There are six rooms and two kitchens in my house—I was in bed in the front kitchen when this alarm was raised—Mrs. Young lives in the first-floor front, her husband is a tailor—on the second floor Jones and Mrs. Herring, the tailors, live—I came upstairs, not down, I went out to get the police and was standing right in front of the door when you came out of the street door—my wife was close beside me—you opened the door yourself and looked this way and that to see which way you were going to bolt—there are two single women in my house besides Mrs. Herring—I don't know if they are prostitutes—I did not say "I accuse you of entering my house and stealing a pair of trousers and two sovereigns"—I did not accuse another man of it first, and then you when I saw you coming out of my house.

WILLIAM BOWES (Policeman E 179). Shortly after 12 o'clock on 22nd July I was called to 71, Wells Street—I saw the prosecutor and Shea—he made a communication to me, and I saw the prisoner open the door and come out of the passage—the prosecutor stopped him and asked him what he was doing there—he said he went in to see a lady friend—Brazier asked him who his lady friend was—he refused to give her name—two ladies then came down who denied all knowledge of him—Brazier said he would charge him—we entered the house—the prisoner begged of him not to charge him, and said "You know I have been living in your house for six mouths, you have always found me honest and straightforward, don't charge me now, you will spoil my character"—he then made an attempt to bolt away—I had hold of his arm at the time, some people standing by assisted me—on the way to the station he twice requested me to let go of his hand, he said he wanted to wipe his face—I refused to—when I got to the station I found this naked open knife up his sleeve, and on searching him I found this latch-key, which I found on going back would open the prisoner's door.

Cross-examined. You did not put the knife on the table, I found it up your sleeve, the sheath was in your belt, the sheath is not large enough for it—the jailer searched you, I was standing by—you put an address of a young lady in your mouth—the jailer put his finger in your mouth and wrenched it from you.

By the COURT. I know that sailors are in the habit of carrying knives in sheaths, not up their sleeves—this will only go into the sheath open.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had no intention of stealing. I have been home two years and I have never been in prison during those years."

The prisoner in his defence stated that this was only a house of ill-fame and argued that he would not go in there to steal.

JAMES BRAZIER (Re-examined by the COURT). My coffee shop is not a common bawdy house—I believe there are no prostitutes there, I have always found them respectable people ever since I first went there, 20

months ago—the ladies are not in the habit of receiving Visitors to my knowledge—about 12 mouths ago the prisoner occupied the first floor—Young, Jones, and Herring occupy it now.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-908
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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908. GEORGE STATHAM (27) , Steeling 19s., a purse, and pawn-tickets from the person of Henry Stockbridge.

MR. POYNTER Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.

HENRY STOCKBRIDGE . I live at 15, Harcourt Street, Marylebone, and am a painter—on Saturday, 19th July, I was in Hare wood Place, Lisson, Grove—I had a purse in my left-hand trousers pocket containing a half-sovereign and about 5s. loose silver and some pawn-tickets—two men came out of Lisson Grove into Harewood Place—the prisoner took me by the right arm, and the other man came on the left side and put his hand into my left-hand trousers pocket and took my purse—I am quite sure of the prisoner, the other man ran away in the direction of Harewood Square—the prisoner held me till the other man got off with the money—he said "Let go my arm, I will be after him"—I said "You will do nothing of the kind, I will detain you till the police officer comes"—I called for a policeman; in a few minutes one came, and the prisoner and the other man were then both together—the prisoner endeavoured to get away—he wanted to go, and I put my hand on his shoulder.

Cross-examined. I have not seen the purse or tickets since—I was talking to the prisoner for about eight minutes from the time the other man got away to when the police came up—this was a few minutes to one o'clock on the Sunday morning, just after closing time I should think—I am almost a teetotaller—I had bf en to the pawnbroker's that night to get a few things out—I left work at 12 o'clock, as I always do on the Saturday, I took out 30s. 8d.—that was not a week's wages, I had a sovereign and half-sovereign and 8d.—I and about 20 of my mates went to several public-houses, first to the Royal Oak to settle up—we were there about a quarter of an hour—then I went straight to the pawn-broker's—that was about a quarter-past 5 o'clock—I went there twice because I could not get served—I got away from it at last about half-past 10 o'clock—I only went into the Montagu Arms, Montagu Square, besides the Royal Oak—I went into that at 10.30; I did not stop there till I met these people, I walked about the streets with my brother, who had left me about 20 minutes—I was standing to ease my legs when these persons came to me—I only had a pint of ale at each public-house—the prisoner did not speak to me—after the man had taken my purse I told him a man had stolen my purse with half a sove-reign, and 5s. silver, and pawntickets—after that the constable came up—I have lived in that neighbourhood 34 years—I told the inspector I had been robbed in Harewood Place—I lost my hat, and went to the station without one.

ERNEST HILL (Policeman D 66). At 1 o'clock on Sunday morning, 20th July, I was near Harewood Square and saw the prisoner and prose-cutor talking loudly together as if in altercation—I had not heard cries—the prosecutor had his hand on the prisoner's shoulder detaining him; he called across the road to me—I went—he said "This man with another one has robbed me of my purse"—I told the prisoner I should take him to the station on that charge—on the way he said he did not know anything about it—he was charged and locked up.

Cross-examined. The prosecutor asked the prisoner's name and address, and he gave the name of John Wall—I asked the prosecutor it he charged him, and he said "Yes"—I have been in Court and heard the prosecutor's evidence—the inspector asked the prosecutor where this took place, he said "Harewood Place"—he did not say he did not know, and refer to me—I don't know how long they had been talking before I came up.

Re-examined. The prosecutor charged him and signed the charge-sheet—the prisoner gave an address 40, Charles Street—I have made inquiries, his father lives there—the prosecutor was not under the influence of drink—I can't say if he had been drinking; he knew perfectly well what he was about.


He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1883.—Two Years' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-909
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

909. FREDERICK HOOPER (20) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Sutton Stephens, and stealing a coat and umbrella Second Count, receiving.

MR. THORNE COLE Prosecuted.

WILLIAM SUTTON STEVENS . I am a tailor, at 44, Oxford Street—at 4.30 on the morning of 30th July I was in bed, and was awakened by a loud crash, as of the breaking of glass—I went down into my shop—I found the centre plate-glass window broken, and missed this coat, waist-coat, and silver-topped umbrella from inside the window—the value altogether is 3l. 10s.—while waiting in the shop the prisoner was brought to me by a constable with this umbrella, which I identify as mine—the constable asked me whether I had lost anything—I said I had—the prisoner said nothing to that—no stone or brick was found—on the way to the station I noticed about four inches below his coat my coat on him—I said to the constable "He has my coat on"—at the station the constable took his coat off, and then my coat and waistcoat appeared.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The coat and waistcoat were on a block about a yard back from the glass—it would take a minute or two to get the coat and waistcoat out of the window—the umbrella was at the side, not fastened to anything—at the station the prisoner said "I did not have the trousers, I only had the coat and waistcoat"—the trousers were hanging at the back.

JOHN READING (Policeman E 242). I was in Oxford Street, at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, about half-past 4 o'clock on the morning of 30th July—I saw the prisoner and another man standing outside 44—I heard the smashing; of glass—I saw the prisoner and another man run away through Hanway Street, which leads to the right, and then to the right again to the back of Oxford Street—I ran in the opposite direction and got to the other end of the street, and stood while the two men came up, and could hear them coming, but could not see them—when they came up I seized both of them, but only retained hold of the prisoner—the other man got away, and threw this umbrella as he ran into the road—I took the prisoner back to where I heard the smashing of glass—on the way to the station the prosecutor told me he thought the prisoner had on the coat and waistcoat that he missed—at the station the prisoner's

own coat was taken off, and this coat and vest were found on him under his own—he gave an address.

Cross-examined. I recognise you because I had seen you before, you passed me at the corner of Regent's Circus—I spoke to you, and asked you what you were doing at that time in the morning.

Re-examined. About two minutes elapsed from seeing the prisoner outside the shop and hearing the crash—there are only four doors between the shop and Han way Street.

The prisoner in his defence stated that on this morning he was coming to-wards the prosecutor's shop, when he met three mm coming from that direction, one of whom had something on his arm and an umbrella; that they turned down Hanway Street, and that when they got into Hanway Street he saw the coat and vest lying in the middle of the road, picked them up, and seeing nothing to show to whom they belonged, put them on; and that then he was walking along, when the constable arrested him.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court on 29th January, 1883, in the name of Frederick Powell**— Five Year's Penal Servitude.

The COMMON SERJEANT commended the conduct of the policeman.

OLD COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-910
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

910. WILLIAM YARROW(33) , Stealing 21/2lb. of tea, the goods of the Great Eastern Railway Company, his masters.


GEORGE WRIGHT (Thames Police Sergeant). On the morning of 11th August, about a quarter to 11 o'clock, I was with Francis in America Square, about 400 or 500 yards from Fenchurch Street Station, and saw a covered van belonging to the Great Eastern Railway standing in the square—the tarpaulin was thrown over behind—I heard some knocking, which attracted my attention to the van—I made a communication to Francis, and while passing the van I looked through the side and saw the prisoner hammering this large chest—there was nobody else in the van—I waited a minute or so, the knocking ceased—I then went quietly to the front of the van, and there saw the prisoner tilting up the end of this small chest, and the tea commencing to run out on to other tea lying on brown paper on a sack at the bottom of the van—I stood a second, and said "What are you doing? I am a police officer"—I was in plain clothes—he made no answer—I then went to get into the van; the prisoner dropped the small case—he had something in his right hand, I heard it drop on the floor on some straw—I searched and picked up this file—I get into the van, and found this tea exactly as it is now, on the brown paper—it does not weigh quite 3 lb.—I said, pointing to the tea, "How do you account for this?"—he said "It came out of this chest," meaning the large one on the ground—Francis said "Show us where it came out"—the prisoner turned the chest over two or three times, but failed to show any hole—he then said "Oh, I was going to put it back," pointing to the large case—I paid "That won't do for us, for that is the case you have just nailed up"—it was nailed up and intact then—we opened it afterwards and had it weighed—I took him then to the Seething

Lane Police-station and charged him—I was present when the case was examined by the persons who consigned it to the railway, and I assisted them in weighing it.

Cross-examined. I ascertained the prisoner had taken several chests of tea from St. Olave's tea warehouse—he was coming from there, and was about 100 yards off—at the time the tea was delivered to him at St. Olave's warehouse a van boy was with him named Cooke.

THOMAS MILES . I live at 48, Exmouth Street, Commercial Road, Stepney, and am delivery man to Messrs. Wrightson and Co., of John Street, Crutehedfriars—on the morning of 11th August, in the ordinary course, I delivered eight chests of tea to van No. 457 of the Great Eastern Railway—this is one of them; I identify it by the marks and number—the prisoner was the carman I delivered them to—the chests were all in sound condition and properly fastened up—it is my duty to examine each cheat before it goes out, and to see they are so—afterwards, oh the same day, this chest was brought to me by Sergeant Wright—I examined it, and found it had been broken open (This was the large chest), and my attention was drawn to some fresh nails which are in the package at the present time, and which are never used in our firm—when the chest went out of our office it weighed 108 lb., when it came back it weighed 1 cwt. 5 1/2 lb., that was 2 1/2 lb. less—I did not examine the small chest.

Cross-examined. We do send out much tea by the railway company—I swear our chests never get damaged—they are never sent out damaged—we use a peculiar kind of nail—I don't know that it is only sold to us.

Re-examined. There is no doubt this is the chest I sent out—five hour after I saw it again—we never use this kind of nail.

RICHARD CRAWLEY (Inspector of Great Eastern Railway Police). On 11th August the prisoner was carman of the Company's van 457.

Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in the Company's service about nine years—I know nothing against him up to the present—Wilshire, the superintendent of the carman, is not here.

WILLIAM COOKE . I am a van boy in the Great Eastern Railway's employment, and was so on 11th August, when I was van boy to van 457, of which the prisoner was carman—I went with him on that morning to St. Olave's Warehouse in the Minories, and collected five caddies and three chests of tea to be forwarded to Colchester, where Miles comes from—when we had taken these in the van went on to America Square, where the prisoner sent me round to Fenchurch Street Station—before I went I noticed he put the sack in the van, and just as I got round the corner I saw him pull the tarpaulin over the back of the van—if that is down no one can see into the van—I went to Fenchurch Street Station, where we have to call every day, and when I came back the van had gone in charge of the police—when Mr. Miles let down the packages by the crane I put them in the van—they were all sound.

Cross-examined. He puts the sack on the bottom of the van every day to sit on—he sometimes puts the back sheet down when goods are loaded, and when I am there he tells me to put it down; it is usual for either him or mo to do it—this file was left in the van when I took the former boy's place—we use it for broken ironwork on the shafts of the van, and for cooking up caddies and chests of tea when they come undone—sometimes we find them half broken—I left it in the van under the straw on this day—on some occasions I have noticed boxes of tea which we

have had to carry partially broken with the tea coming out, and this file has been used to nail them up—since the prisoner left I have noticed tea in the vans with the chests broken, and the other carmen with me will tell you the same.

Re-examined. I have never seen carmen, when the chest becomes undone, tipping it up and emptying the contents on to a piece of paper—this van only had eight chests in it; it would hold about 40, it was not loaded—I put the tarpaulin down when I am told to do so—we do so if it rains or the sun shines or the wind blows when the van is not loaded.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-911
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

911. FLORENCE BAKER (28) , Feloniously personating Emma Timms, with intent to obtain from William Hudson certain of her furniture.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted; MESSRS. BESLEY and STRONG Defended.

THOMAS JAMES KELLY . I am a cashier in the employment of Mr. Hudson, furniture remover in Wilton Road—about 27th July I received this order: "Sir,—My furniture warehoused with you I wish handed over to Mr. Cunningham for sale. Yours truly, A. Timms"—at this time there was some furniture at Mr. Hudson's in the name of Timms, of which we had furnished this inventory about December, 1881, I cannot say whom to—after I received this letter, on the same day, Monday, 28th July, the prisoner called at the repository and asked me about the sale of the furniture—I told her we had received her letter that morning, and I had received certain instructions from Brighton; I could not deal any further with the matter, but that one of our managers at Brighton would be up on Wednesday, 30th July, and if she would call then she would be able to see him about 11 o'clock—on Wednesday she called and saw Thomas Bateson, our manager, in my presence—he asked her what her name was—she said, "I am Alice Timms"—he asked her what proof she had that she was Mrs. Timms—she wanted to know if her word was sufficient—he said, "Of course it is not"—afterwards Mr. Stimpson was brought in, and he said, "You are not Florence Timms, you are Alice Graham"—she admitted she was—this order was shown to her; she admitted she had sent that, and that it was her writing; that was the letter which I had received on Monday—she said, "I wrote this order because my sister has given me the goods."

Cross-examined. I was in Hudson's service in 1881—this document C, "Gentlemen,—I request an estimate of my furniture taken to-morrow, I intend warehousing the same on Thursday," is one of the letters we received before any furniture was deposited—these notes at the back of it are written by some one in our employment, "T. H. Pickton called here; I have seen the goods; some good furniture; pointed out two rooms not going; two loads agreed for 9l. by T. H. P. and 36s. monthly; rent commences on Thursday, 17th, clear Friday; eight cases, three crates; Mrs. Timms, 56, Brompton Square. Mr. Graham. Y. H. D. called"—those are the initials of the person who called—9th of January, 1882, "Saw gentleman, who will make appointment with Mr. Graham"—the prisoner was living under the protection of Graham; his real name was Baker—the sister had been living under the protection of Nightingale, who was called Timms—I did not see Mrs. Graham on the occasion of depositing the furniture—the person who made notes on the back of

this would have gone—the clerk who made out the inventory is not here—the date of the rent beginning is not shown here; if merely gives the month of December—it is part of the written contract that if persons leave furniture without paying rent for three years Hudson's can sell it to defray expenses—we do not advertise before selling: we cannot sell if it is left for a less period—the charge has accumulated on this furniture up to about 80l. I should think, and if the real date was 17th of December three years would have been up on the 17th of December, 1884—I had no knowledge of this property until this matter—this has been called "The Chelsea Mystery."

Re-examined. If the property had been sold at the end of three years the balance would have been held until it was applied for, and than it would have been handed over, if we had found the proper person—I have not seen the furniture, but it would cover our charges, and more probably.

NEHEMIAH STIMPSON . I am a builder, of 9, South Parade, Trafalgar Square—the prisoner and a gentleman came to me in 1881; November, I believe, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham; they took my drawing-room floor for Mrs. Timms, who came in the evening of the same day—the furniture arrived the same day—the first load at 12 o'clock—there were two small van loads—Mrs. Timms was paralysed in the hands and feet; she could not walk, neither could she get hold of the banisters to lead herself upstairs—we had to carry her up—afterwards the prisoner and Mr. Graham left, leaving Alice Timms there—Mrs. Timms, during the time she was lodging at my place, was mentally in a condition which I put down as softening of the brain; her memory was not right—Mr. and Mrs. Graham paid me the rent; it was left for me—in the tore part of the time Mrs. Graham used to call sometimes twice a day—I received this inventory from Mr. Hudson by post, addressed to Mrs. Timms, about a month after they were there; in January, 1882. or it might have been 1881—the inventory was not in my charge, but is Mrs. Timms's—the things were taken away on the same day as Mrs. Timms was taken to the hospital; the inventory was taken with them—I did not see Mrs. Timms after that till I saw her at the police-court—I tried to find her, and could not—I identified the prisoner at Hudson's—I merely identified her as Florence Graham—I was not present all the time—she asked me if I could tell her where her sister was.

Cross-examined. She said that immediately—she said "Good morning, Mr. Stimpson"—I said "This is Florence Graham"—she said "Do you know where my sister is?"—I said "No, I can't"—I did not know she had gone to Scotland Yard on that very day to get authority—Inspector Marshall called on me afterwards, and said he had come about Florence Graham who lived with me—I don't know who got up the idea that the prisoner had murdered her sister—Graham was called Baker—I have heard him asked for Baker at my house; he was sometimes called Graham and sometimes Baker—I thought they were married when they came to my place—I know of no marriage taking place afterwards, nor of them going to Canada—when at my house the cook, Charlotte Wood, was there for five weeks—I believe she left to save expenses; I don't know of things being pawned—I advised the prisoner to have Mrs. Timms removed to a hospital, because of the state of her mind—I said "If you don't call in a doctor I shall go before a Magistrate"—when Mrs. Timms left me I was paid up everything—I heard Mrs. Timms examined at the police-court—her memory was not good—she said she did not

recollect living at my place at all; she does not know—she never told me she had not been married to Nightingale or Timms—she called him Timms—Graham said she was not married—I believe from the time Mr. Timms died she said she had no recollection till she was in the hospital—she thought the hospital was a workhouse—I was bidden to go to the police-court after Mrs. Timms had been found.

ROSA KING . I live at 10, Clarendon Street, Pimlico—Timms lodged with me two years ago for four or five weeks—the prisoner took the rooms for her furnished.

Cross-examined. It was last October 12 months—October, 1882—I only saw Mrs. Graham once when she took the apartments; they were 1l. a week lodgings and 1l. board—Mrs. Timms went away in a cab with her boxes, saying she was going to her sister's in Tachbrook Street—when she bad been there four or five weeks she left some few things behind her—the had not paid the rent at all—she was much better sometimes than at others; she always spoke very kindly of her sister.

JOHN MITFORD ATKINSON, M.B . I am one of the medical officers of Kensington workhouse—Alice Timms has been an inmate and medically under my charge since April, 1883—when admitted she seemed suffering from debility and mental depression, and was under medical treatment for six or seven weeks; she improved considerably, so that she was able to take her place in the house, and I have not been called to see her at all since that time—her memory was somewhat weak—I think she it capable of understanding the nature of an oath—I have seen her lately—her memory is much the same now, her mind seemed perfectly blank for a time after her so-called husband's death—she cannot give any account of that time.

Cross-examined. From what I could gather it is utterly hopeless to rely on anything as regards her actions for a time after her husband's death—she was not classed as a lunatic—it is an entire effacement of memory—you cannot rely on anything she says from the time of her husband's death—I did not hear her evidence at the police-court—I should not be surprised if she had forgotten every house she lived in from the time of her husband's death to the time of her being in the workhouse.

EMMA TIMMS . I am now an inmate of Kensington Workhouse—at one time I lived with a Mr. Nightingale as his wife, at 56, Brompton Square; he was then going by the name of Timms—he furnished the house there—it was my furniture—I have been shown some articles at Hudson's repository—I recollect those as some of the articles at 56, Brompton Square—the prisoner is my sister—I did not give her the furniture, nor did I authorise her to deal with it by taking it away from the repository—I was too ill to remember when Mr. Nightingale died; after he died I was very ill and was put into st. George's Hospital, my memory has got very weak since—as far as my memory goes I never gave that furniture to my sister or authorised her to sell it.

Cross-examined. After my husband's death I cannot tell what happened—I believe we two sisters were always very fond of one another.

CHARLOTTE WOOD . I was in the service of Mrs. Timms, at 56, Brompton Square, for five years—I don't know when that was—Mr. Timms's right name was Nightingale, and Mrs. Timms lived with him as his wife—I always understood they were lawfully married and of course considered

the furniture hers—he died three years ago on 29th of last July—before he died Florence Baker, or Mrs. Graham, used occasionally to come and see Mrs. Timms—when Timms died, Mrs. Timms was terribly affected—the Grahams came and stayed with her for a fortnight, and she removed from Brompton Square to Mr. Stimpson's, of South Parade, where I went with her as her servant—I remained five weeks—all the furniture from 56, Brompton Square, was not brought to Mr. Stimpson's, only two van loads—I pledged two things, a sealskin jacket and a dressing-case, while we were at South Parade—Mrs. Graham wished me to do so—the rest of the furniture from 56, Brompton Square was ware-housed.

Cross-examined. Mrs. Timms was fond of me, and she wrote and sent me flowers when she was in Newcastle with Mr. Nightingale—I did not hear the name of Nightingale till he died—I thought it was the husband's property—Emma Timms had been in bed before Mr. Timms died—he was ill for six months; she attended him as long as she could, and then broke down and was in bed when he died, and was forgetful in her mind, not lost—this letter "C," of November 15th, 1881, is not Mrs. Timms's writing—I did not know the sister was living with Mr. Graham, she brought him as Mr. Baker, a solicitor; I did not know they were living as husband and wife—it was left to Mr. Baker and to Florence Graham to make all arrangements.

THOMAS BATESON . I am one of the managers to Mr. Hudson—I received this letter of 27th December, 1881: "9, South Parade, Trafalgar square. Please to let me have inventory of my goods warehoused with you five weeks ago. Yours, Alice Timms"—I was at Messrs. Hudson's on 30th July with Kelly when the prisoner came in—I met the prisoner by appointment at Victoria on that day; if asked whom I was addressing, she replied Alice Timms—I asked her to produce the inventory—her reply was that it was not in her possession at that moment; she volunteered to fetch it—I said before doing so I might ask her a few more questions with a view to her identity being established—I inquired where she had been during the interval—she said she-had been in Canada—I inquired when she returned; after some hesitation she replied about three months ago—I then asked if she could produce any one who knew her, as we were anxious to be satisfied we were about to give the goods up to the right owner—she said "Why should my word be doubted?"—I asked her again if her name was Alice Timms—she said "Yes"—I then called Mr. stimpson forward, who identified her at once as Florence Graham, which she admitted, and added that she did not know where her sister was.

Cross-examined. I advised Mr. Stimpson of the appointment that had been made with the prisoner after the application, and she and he came—when he said "You are Florence Graham," she said "Yes, I am—I said "Where is your sister?"—she said "I can't tell what has become of her"—she did not say she had been to Scotland Yard—I mentioned the things had been there a long time and there was a great deal owing upon them—she did not tell me she had come over from Canada to try and find her sister—I did not know her before as living in the name of Graham with Baker, nor that they had subsequently married and gone abroad.

MARTHA ELLEN PIKE . I am William Pike's wife, and live at 11,

Worcester Street—at the end of February or beginning of March two years ago I remember the prisoner and Mr. Baker coming to my house to take lodgings—they said they had an imbecile sister and asked if we would mind her—they gave me two references, one of which was Inspector Marshall, Scotland Yard, and came to lodge with me at the end of February or the beginning of March, 1882—they stayed with us till, I think, the beginning of November—I used occasionally to see Timms, she used to seem rather strange at times, she used to ask the same questions every morning when she came down to breakfast—in November Mrs. Baker took her sister away on the Thursday, and she and Mr. Baker left on the Saturday—Mrs. Timms came to the house the Saturday afterwards and asked for her sister—I took her to her sister's house and left her on the doorstep—about a week after that I saw her again, but she used to come frequently during the week and knock at the door and ask for her sister—after that time I did not see her till I saw her at the police-court.

Cross-examined. I had very little occasion to speak to her—when she came down to get breakfast she was always asking me where she could find the milk and the coal cellar—I took no further notice of these usual questions.

EDWARD WILLIAM BROWNING . I am a gas inspector, and live at 106, Tachbrook Street—early in November, 1882, or at the end of October Baker and the prisoner, under the name of Mrs. Baker, came to lodge at my house; and when they had been there about a fortnight, Alice or Emma Timms and a servant girl were brought to my house by a policeman—I knocked at Mrs. Baker's door—she came—I said to her "Have you a sister?"—she said "No"—I said "It is very strange, but there is a constable at the door with a servant girl and a woman; they say she is your sister, you had better come out and see them"—she went out, and I left the hall—then Mrs. Timms came into the house and stayed there some time, she seemed like a woman half dazed—there was something vacant about her, but she seemed to know what was going on—we were under the impression she was addicted to drink—just before Christmas the went away, I don't know if alone; she was in the house one evening and then she went away, we didn't know when or how—the Bakers stayed with me till August, 1883—they were married from my house, I thought they were married when they came—I had a conversation with the prisoner, in which she said her sister was the widow of a doctor who lived in Chelsea and who had died and left her a very large quantity of furniture, and that it was stored at Messrs. Hudson's.

Cross-examined. She was worse when she was with me than she was at the police-court—she seemed to be perfectly cognisant of what was going on—I never tested her memory—furniture was brought by the takers, they occupied three rooms, and I always understood the furniture belonged to them—Mrs. Timms never said anything about it—I believe Mr. and Mrs. Baker went direct to Canada when they left my house in 1883.

HENRY MARSHALL (Inspector B). On 1st August, about 7.30, I went to 9, Warwick Road, where I saw the prisoner—I said "I am Inspector Marshall from Rochester Row, and have called relative to your application to Scotland Yard for the police to assist in tracing your sister"—she said "Oh, you are the third one that has called on me"—I said "Yes, I had sent one of the other officers, but as no trace can be got of your

sister, and it is a very serious matter, I thought I would come myself; I am anxious you should give me all particulars and I would like to make notes of what you say if you will allow me to come in"—after some hesitation she invited me into her room upstairs—I then took down these notes relative to the missing woman. "Friday, August 1st, 7.30: I am a married lady and reside at the above address but not with my husband. I last saw my sister, Alice Timms, as far as I can remember, about 18 months or two years ago at a house in Lamont Road. She had furnished rooms there with some people named Sweetlove, I think; she was alone, but I went to see her occasionally, I cannot say how long she resided there, I have never seen her since. I never went to the police to find her until the 30th" (that is the 30th of last month) "but tried to do so myself. Before that she resided with meat various addresses in Pimlico, I never lived anywhere else with her. I once put her in St. George's Hospital about two and a half years since in her own name. I think she was there two months; and then I took her out and went to Lamont Road, where she resided with me for 18 months or more, and then she went to other apartments in the same road, I never saw her again. I took her front Stimpson's South Parade, to the hospital; I cannot give the number, but Stimpson was the landlord. He was a builder. She was a widow, I cannot say who her husband was except that he was a gentleman. I went to Canada about 12 or 18 months ago with my husband, or Mr. Baker. We sailed from Liverpool on the Sinai, but I cannot say the date, it must have been two months ago. We resided at Montreal, where my husband is now living. I cannot understand what this has to do with finding my sister. I returned about a fortnight or three weeks ago to Liverpool to find my sister. I have been trying to find her in the streets and also in the Lamont Road, which I took her from to the hospital"—after she said that she said "I believe you have come from Hudson, and I shan't say any more"—I said "Well, I know of Hudson's matter, and the way you have received me, and the statement is not satisfactory to me. Your sister cannot be found. I shall arrest you on the charge of forging and uttering a note for the delivery of the goods to Messrs. Hudson"—she then declared I should not do so—I Called a sergeant—she tried to destroy some paper and took out the key of her room, which she said I should not search—I told her I should do so—I took her to the station and then returned to her room, where I searched her box, the keys of which she subsequently handed to me; and in that box I found the inventory (produced) and a number of letters and memoranda which I conveyed to the station—while there she said "There is a letter among my papers which I wish to send to my husband"—I produced the whole for her to point it out, and she selected this one (produced)—I took possession of it, read it, and finding it had reference to the case I refused to allow her application.

Cross-examined. When I went to her on the 1st Aug. I had not seen Mr. Stimpson—I had been in communication with Hudson—I cannot say why did not tell her so; I had to be guided by circumstances—I thought it was a murder; I did not know what she had to do with it—I was seeking information. (The prisoner's letter to her husband found by Marshall was here read, explaining to him the circumstances and he embarrassment at the interview at Messrs. Hudson's.)


NEW COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-912
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

912. THOMAS WRIGHT (17) and STEPHEN HARVEY (22) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Vandy, and stealing two boxes of herrings, his property.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. RAVEN defended Harvey.

WILLIAM CONNYBEARE (Policeman K 124). On 26th August, about 1.15 a.m., I was on duty in Ford Road, and heard a noise as of shutters falling—I looked round the corner and saw two persons standing in front of Mr. Vandy's shop—I waited a minute or two and they came towards me, each with a box under his arm—I advanced to meet them, and got within twenty yards of them—they ran across the road—I ran across at the same time—they went down Dane's Place, and as they ran under a lamp I distinctly saw Wright; he was the nearest to me—knowing him perfectly well and where he lived, I did not follow him, but turned to my left in the Roman Road—I thought he would go home, bat he crossed my front again, as they crossed the Roman Road again—I knew Wright by the nickname of "Comic," and called out "Comic, it is no use your running away, you are known;" with that he dropped the box and I caught my toe against it, which caused me to stumble, and when I recovered myself they were thirty or forty yards ahead of me; Harvey turned down Wright's road, and Wright went straight down the road and indoors—I picked up the box of herrings and called Mr. Tandy up—his shop was all open—I then went and took Wright; I found him undressed—he said "You have made a" great mistake this time, I have been in bed ever since 11 o'clock"—this was at 1.30, about a quarter of an hour after the affair happened, which was 400 yards from where he lives—I was some time talking to Mr. Vandy—I gave information to a constable, and Harvey was taken the next night and I identified him—I knew them both by sight perfectly well.

Cross-examined. I was examined twice at the police-court—I said that I had known Wright seven years—I was about 1 1/2 yards from Wright when he dropped the box, and I saw his features and spoke to him—there is a gaslight opposite the shop.

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX (Policeman K 397). On August 27th, about 1 a.m., I took Harvey—I said "I shall take you to the station for being concerned with Odell in breaking into a shop in Roman Road"—(Odell is Wright)—he said "It was not me, I was in bed last night by 12 o'clock—this was twenty-four hours after the robbery—on the way to the station he said "I knew Tommy would round on me."

Cross-examined. He did not say "Did Tommy round on me?"—I said that it was the night previous, but did not tell him the time.

WILLIAM BANDY . I am a fishmonger of 175, Roman Road—I was called up by the police about 1.30, and found my shutters down, and missed two boxes of herrings which were safe when I went to bed at 11.30—there is no window.

WALTER GARLICK (Policeman K 581). On 26th August I saw Wright in Grove Road about ten minutes to 1 a.m.

Cross-examined by Wright. I spoke to you, I said "Well, Comic"; you made no reply.

Witnesses for the Defence.

JOHN WOOD . I am a tailor, of 27, Ford's Buildings—Wright left me on the night at the corner of St. Stephen's Road as near as I can judge, at a quarter to 12—he wished me good night—I asked him if he would come to a bit of a concert at the Prince Albert, but he said he was rather tired and would get towards home.

ELIZABETH WITHERS . I am married, and occupy the first floor at St. Stephen's Road, where Wright lives—I heard him come in on Monday night at a quarter to 12—I was sitting up reading, waiting for my husband to come home from his club—I did not see Wright come in, but I heard his cough and his step.

By the COURT. I did not hear him go out again—I did not go to bed till 1.15—I was roused shortly afterwards by the officer coming in about 2.10 a.m.

JOHN COE . I drive a tramcar—on August 25th I saw Harvey outside the Plough, Bow Road; he jumped on my car at 12.35 to a minute—I have to be perpetually looking at the time—he went as far as Bow Chambers, which is a lodging-house—I stopped there and he went upstairs into the chambers—I have known him about two years as a friend.

Cross-examined. Bow Chambers are about a quarter of an hour or, twenty minutes' walk from Mr. Vandy's shop—my tramcar started from Aidgtite at 12.20 and finished at Stratford—it is a mile and a half from Aldgate to Bow Chambers—another tram started at 12.23; it is a three-minute road—Mr. Harvey asked me last Monday to come here and give evidence.

JOHN BALDOCK . I live at Bow Chambers—on the evening of 25th August I was in the kitchen, and the manager said "Will you see this young man up to 41 bed?"—that is No. 7 room, where I sleep—the young man was Harvey—I saw him up and saw him into bed—I slept in No. 51 bed nearly opposite him—when I had been in bed two or three minutes, Bow Church struck 1 o'clock—as far as I know he did not get up again—I have been lodging there six weeks and have slept in the same bed ever since.

Cross-examined. I went to sleep about half an hour after going to bed—I had never seen Harvey before—I was not there when he was arrested—he was not arrested on that night in that room; I do not know anything about that, because they sent after me and they would not come and fetch me—I was in bed and asleep—I do not know whether Harvey came in and went to bed the next night; I was in bed—I have taken lodgers up before.

Wright's Defence. I was in the Earl of Aberdeen between 11 and 11.30, and I went straight into bed, and Mrs. Withers proves that I was in bed at a quarter to 12.

WRIGHT— GUILTY .†— Nine Months' Hard labour.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-913
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

Related Material

913. GEORGE TAYLOR (25) , Feloniously marrying Adelaide Webster, his wife being then alive.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. GEARING Defended.

ALFRED PALMER . I am a hammer man, and live at 21, Maccles-field Street, City Road—I know the prisoner—I was at All Saints'

Church, Caledonian Road, when he was married to my sister Alice Palmer, who is alive—she is here.

Cross-examined. I knew him before he married my sister—his name is George Watling Taylor—he never bore the name of William—he was about nineteen, and my sister twenty-three, when they married—I don't think my sister knew his father and mother—she was in service at Highbury—he said that he did not care about his father or anybody else, he would marry her—my wife put the banns up; the prisoner asked her to do so—my sister knew that they were put up—my brother was the best man, and after the ceremony we all went away in a cab together—I heard that the prisoner was likely to come into some property when he came of age, but I did not know how much, or whether it was true or not—they used to come to my house—I do not know whether they separated by mutual consent—I never saw my sister drunk—I know that the prisoner's father wrote to stop the banns.

ADELAIDE WEBSTER . I live at 87, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—I became acquainted with the prisoner eight months ago, when I was living at 2, North Crescent, Tottenham Court Road, and he afterwards came to stay with me at my house, and after some time a lady came and said that she was Mrs. Taylor—he said that he had lived with a woman five years, and he was going to get married to her, but his father sent a letter and stopped the marriage—he asked me to marry him, and we were asked at St. John's Church, Charlotte Street, and in another church besides—he said that he was single—after the publication of the banns I went through the marriage ceremony with him on 17th July last at Trinity Church, Euston Road, and he went back to live with me at 2, North Crescent—a person came there and said in the prisoner's presence that she was Mrs. Taylor—that is the lady (The prisoner's wife)—he said that it was not so, and the piece of paper was no good, and snatched it away from her and said that it was forged—she brought it several times; I did not have it in my hand—after that the prisoner said that he wanted me, and he went to the police-station and gave himself up, and said that he did it for my benefit, and he would have it settled, and he allowed her 1l. a week, and after that, when he could not allow it, he let her have 15s. a week regular.

Cross-examined. He did not admit that he was properly married to Alice—he said that the banns were put up in a wrong name, and that he knew it—I did not persuade him to marry me; I did not threaten to leave him if he did not—when Alice Taylor came to the house she used most awful language, which I had never heard before—I do nut know whether she was drunk—I understand that the prisoner used to introduce her as his sister—I have no ill-feeling against him—we lived together as man and wife before I married him.

WALLACE FERNANDEZ . I am an artist, of 10, Albert Place, Store street, Bedford Square—I know the prisoner—I was present at Trinity Church, Euston Road, when he was married to Adelaide Webster—I attested the marriage.

Cross-examined. I have known him some time—he was a very respectable fellow indeed at that time—he had just resigned his work, and had a little money; he said that he was going to take a little business.

BENJAMIN MORGAN (Police Sergeant E). I took the prisoner on 29th August at 87, Charlotte Street—I said, "You will be charged with

feloniously intermarrying Adelaide Webster at Trinity Church, Marylebone, on 17th August last, your first wife Alice being then and now alive"—he said, "All right, I have an answer to it, I have expected it for some time"—he said at the station, "My correct name is George Taylor"—the inspector said, "Please give me your name in full"—he said, "Watling is the name of some of my relatives, and I sometimes give it as my name in full"—he is called Taylor only—this is the certificate of the second marriage; I obtained it from the clerk at Trinity Church, Marylebone, and this other from the clerk at All Saints' Church, Caledonian Road. (Read; "All Saints' Church, Battle Bridge. George Watling Taylor, bachelor, and Alice Palmer, spinster, married 13th April, 1879. "Trinity Church, Marylebone. George Taylor, aged 25, and Adelaide Webster, spinster, married 17th July, 1884.")

Cross-examined. The second wife was cohabiting with him when she took me to 87, Charlotte Street—I took him in charge, and took him to the station, and the inspector took the charge—the clerk made the extract from the register and signed it; I examined it with the original, and found it correct.

MR. GEARING submitted that the, first marriage was invalid, as the prisoner was married in a false name, which was known to both parties, and that the prosecutrix married a minor without his father's consent; secondly, that the banns having been forbidden made the marriage void, and that the name William in the banns did not correspond with the name Watling in the certificate, which he would prove by a witness.

WILLIAM WESTON . I am verger of All Saints' Church, Caledonian Road—the books are kept there—I have brought the banns book and, the register book—the banns book is full, and we have a new one, but the register is still in use. (The entry in the banns book showed that the banns between George William Taylor, aged 21, and Alice Palmer, age not mentioned, were published on two Sundays, August 16th and 23rd, 1879, and the "William" had been corrected into "Watling")

MR. WILKINSON contended that the private letter from the prisoner's father was not sufficient to stop the publication of the banns, but that public notice ought to have been given to the clergyman at the time fie was performing the ceremony. The COMMON SERJEANT considered that the writing of a letter by the father was not sufficient notice; and as to the other point, having consulted the Recorder, left it to the Jury to say whether they considered that both parties were cognisant of the undue publication of the banns; if so, the objection taken would be fatal. (Cases referred to, Tongue v. Tongue, "Moore's Privy Council Reports" vol. 1, p. 90, and Minchley v. Wood 30, "Law Journal,"p. 557).

GUILTY. The prisoner stated that he inherited 300l. from his grandfather, whose name was Watling, and being advised by a solicitor that his first marriage was illegal, separated from his wife by mutual consent, but that she had since annoyed him in every way, and was now in the family way by another man. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— To enter into his own recognisance to appear for judgment if called upon.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-914
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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914. GEORGE FOLKUS , Robbery with violence on Walter William Barnard, and stealing a watch and chain, his property.

WALTER WILLIAM BARNARD . I am a carpenter, of 20, Brewer Street,

Golden Square—on 14th September, about 2 p.m., I was at the Ballot Box public-house, near Harrow-on-the-Hill—I saw the prisoner there; he was a stranger to me—he said, "I know where to get some blackberries and nuts," and I went with him into a wood—we were there an hour and a half, and we came out and went to Greenford into a beershop, and I paid for some bread and cheese and a glass of ale for him—it came to 8d., and I paid with a half-sovereign and got 9s. 4d. change—we each had a glass of ale—he took me into the wood again, and we went on blackberrying and noting till he got beside me and rushed at my throat, clutching it with both hands, one in front and one behind—I struggled, and he knocked me about with his open hand—I could not breathe with his hands there—he knocked me down and said, "If you don't give up all I will do for you"—he took my silver watch and chain, value 6l. 7s. 6d., and the 9s. 4d. out of my pocket, and he wanted to take off my boots—he thought I had put down a sovereign at the public-house, and he said, "If you will give me the half-sovereign I will give you your watch and chain back"—he put his arm beside mine to see if my coat was long enough in the sleeves for him, and said, "If this coat was big enough for me I would keep the coat"—he did not keep it, as it was not big enough—he then showed me the way out of the wood towards Hanwell, and when I saw he was gone I ran as hard as I could to the Halfway House at Willesden, where I saw him at the bar with my watch and I; than on—this is it (produced)—I caught him by his neck; he struggled; I a man caught him my his collar and put him in the taproom, where he was detained till a constable came.

FRANK HENRY MARTIN . I am a horse driver, of Walmer Road, Notting Hill—on Sunday night, 14th September, I was in the Junction Arms with some friends, and saw the prisoner by my side with a watch and chain on—he rushed towards the door, and Barnard took him by his neck and halloaed out "Help, help, he has stolen my watch and chain"—the prisoner took him by his throat and slung him to the door, and as the prisoner was escaping by the door I caught him, swung him into a room, and the door was locked on us—I said "If it is your watch, keep it; ii not, give it to me, and I will let you go"—he gave it to me and said "I am giving you 30l., I bought it in Regent Street"—I then knocked him down—I gave it back to Barnard; this is it—when a constable came the prisoner started crying—Barnard said that he had been robbed of 9s. 6d.

JOHN MOORE (Policeman X 224). I was called to the Junction Arms, Acton, and found the prisoner and Martin locked in a room—Barnard handed me this watch and chain, and gave the prisoner in custody for stealing it—the prisoner said "This is my watch"—I took him in custody, and found on him at the station 11s. 6d., all silver, and some papers—Barnard said that the prisoner had half-strangled him; he said "I did not."

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "When I was in the police-station, when the constable searched me he took out some papers and an envelope; as soon as he took out one paper Martin said 'That is a Crime Act paper,' and he said 'That is a Supervision paper.'"

Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor said at Brentford that he gave the watch and chain into my hands.

W. W. BARNARD (Re-examined). I did not say so; he took them out

of my pocket; I felt faint—he was quite sober—we were together five or six hours, and we only had two glasses all day.


He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on 9th October, 1876.—Six Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-915
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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915. EDWAED HILL (19) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Alexander Perry, and stealing a purse, a bracelet, a pencil case, and 6s. 3d., his property.

ALEXANDER PERRY . I live at 59a, Fairfield Road, Bow—on 23rd August, about 5 a.m., I was in bed, and saw the prisoner at my bedside searching my pockets—I had left my trousers on a box, and I found them on the floor—I followed the prisoner and caught him at the front door; he struck me two blows on the side of my head—the police came and I gave him in charge—all these articles (produced) are mine, and the bracelet is my daughter's—this is my purse, and I think there is 6s. and some halfpence—the basement window had been opened and fastened again, and the flower-pots put up as before—the prisoner was never out of my sight—I had locked up the house the night before, but he got in at my lodger's apartment downstairs—I cannot tell whether that was fastened up.

JOHN PERCEVAL (Policeman). The prosecutor gave the prisoner into my custody just inside his passage—I searched him at the station and found these articles and a purse containing 6s. 3 1/2 d.—this knife is the prisoner's, and it has paint on it corresponding with the paint between the window sashes.

Prisoner's Defence. The catch was off, and the window a little open, and I got in; this knife never belonged to me, and I never used it.

GUILTY . He was further charged with a conviction at Clerkenwell in June, 1882.

WILLIAM TURRELL . I am Sessions Warder at cold bath Fields—I produce a certificate of the prisoner's conviction in the name of Thomas Huxley at Middlesex Sessions, in June, 1882, of stealing seven pigeons—he was sentenced totwelve months' hard labour—he was the man—he was under my supervision daily, and I know him as well as I know my own brother.

GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 23rd, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-916
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

916. WILLIAM AUGUSTUS NASH, (28) , Feloniously sending to James O'shaugnessy a letter accusing James Nash of an infamous crime, with intent to extort money. Other Counts varying the form of charge.


The details of this case are unfit for publication. The letter in question was one of a series proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting, containing, in the most violent language, foul accusations against his father and brother. The prisoner at the commencement conducted his own case, but having several times complained of his inability to obtain legal assistance, MR. GEOGHEGAN proffered his services, which the prisoner accepted.

GUILTY . The prisoner then stated that he desired unreservedly to with-draw all the allegations he had made, which were without the slightest foundation

and expressed his deep regret at having made them.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday September 23rd 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-917
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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917. SAMUEL HOWSHIP BARROW , Unlawfully forging and uttering a certificate of identity, to obtain a passport, with intent to defraud.


FREDERICK GEORGE MAXIMILIAN DE BERNHARDT . I am a clerk in the Foreign Office—it is my duty to attend to the issuing of passports—before a passport is granted it is necessary that there should be a certificate signed by a merchant, banker, doctor, solicitor, or clergyman, stating that the person requiring it is a British subject—on 27th July these two applications, dated 26th July, were brought to me. (These certified that George Berman and James Gibson were British subjects, and first signed Samuel Howship Barrow.) I saw the prisoner the same day, and he said that he had called for the passports of Borman and Gibson—I looked at the application and went to consult the chief clerk, and then, seeing my hesitation, he said "It is all right, I recommend them"—I asked him who they were—he said "They are not gentlemen"—I made out these two passports and handed them to him—on 31st July I received this other application, and forwarded it to Scotland Yard—the prisoner called on me the same day and asked for the passport for Carlton Carlton—I said that I had only received the application that day, and it proposed to be called for next day; I wanted 24 hours' notice"—he came again on 2nd August, and I told him I could not grant the passport, because the address given was not correct—he said that the address was—quite correct, the house belonged to Mr. Carlton's mother—I declined to grant a passport, and he left.

Cross-examined. In Russia, Turkey, and Roumania a passport is in dispensable—you must have a passport in Belgium, or anywhere, if you wish to reside—I have been at the Foreign Office 26 years—you have been free to travel in France since 1860—passports are not abolished in Switzerland—I have never travelled on the Continent without a passport.

Re-examined. The price of a passport is 2s. 6d., and if a man is in trouble he takes it to the Embassy.

JOHN SEYMOUR FOWLER . I am a solicitor, of Dowgate Hill—I know the prisoner, he was formerly a solicitor, and had access to my office—these three certificates are written on my note-paper with my printed heading, and to the best of my belief they are in tine prisoner's writing—I have seen him write—they were not signed with my consent, or by my authority or knowledge—I know Borman, but I do not know Carlton Carlton or James Gibson; they never requested me to obtain passports for them.

Cross-examined. I have another office at 23, High Street, Borough—I have known the prisoner six years—he was clerk to Mr. Waring, the solicitor to the Legal Protection Society—he never acted as my clerk—I have

two clerks, one of them, Mr. Fulford, has been in my service 10 years—he does not pay so much a week for the use of my office at Dowgate Hill; I pay the rent to Dyer's Hall Company—the prisoner was not also allowed to use my office—he has not been in the habit of acting as my clerk—he does not sit in a room and copy, he uses no room at all—he has not written letters there that I know of—I have done business for him, but he has not attended to it as my clerk—this (produced) is Mr. Fulford's writing; I do not allow him to sign my name—it was not arranged that fire guineas were to be paid to the prisoner for the costs of this, nor that we should divide the five guineas—I have received it; I promised to give him something out of it, but I have not done so, as I do not consider now that I should—these passports were brought to my knowledge the day before Bank Holiday, when Mr. Forbridge called on me and produced the documents, and asked if the signatures were mine—I said they were not—he never mentioned the five guineas—I was asked to prosecute, and said that I did not care about giving the man in custody; I knew he had a family, and I said that the authorities might prosecute him it' they chose—I do not think he was under the idea that he might sign my name—I think I received the five guineas on the day he was taken in custody—I did not tell him so at the police-court—I have seen these letters to the drawer of the cheque—my second clerk is an office-boy—I have no clerk named Gosling—Mr. Gosling is an accountant, and has some portion of my office—I do not know that he has been convicted—I have two officer, and have also an interest in a business in Liverpool—I left there when I got married, and came to London—I did not get into a difficulty there about a stopped cheque.

Re-examined. I am friendly disposed towards the prisoner; I have known him ever since I have been in London.

GEORGE BORMAN . I am secretary to the Creditors' Protection Association, 23, High Street, Borough—this is not my signature—I know nothing whatever about it—I did not authorise Mr. Barrow to apply for a passport—I am not a commercial traveller—I know nothing about the application, and never saw the passport—the prisoner knew me by name, and has known my address for 20 years.

Cross-examined. It is a Limited Company—Mr. Edwards is practically the proprietor of it—he has a son and a nephew articled to Mr. Fowler—we issue county Court summonses there in Mr. Fowler's name—I have never signed them—a large number are issued every year—I think I can safely say that Mr. Barrow has not issued any in Mr. Fowler's name—he has not used the office at all—I have known him 25 years,—he was a clerk there to Mr. Waring, a former solicitor, but I do not think he was ever clerk to Mr. Fowler.

Re-examined. I did not intend to travel abroad.

FRANCES MCDOWELL . I have been housekeeper at Devonshire Chambers for the last 12 months—there is nobody there named James Gibbons.

Cross-examined. There are 40 or 50 tenants—I do not know all their clerks' names.

JOHN TONBRIDGE (Police Inspector). I have tried to find Carlton and Gibson and cannot—on 2nd August the prisoner was brought to Scotland Yard Station and detained while inquiries were made—I spoke to him about this passport, and he made this statement—I took it down. (Read:

"Daughter resides at Doddlestone, Plynlimmon Road. Hastiags; one son, Mr. Aubrey Barrow, lives at Lower Richmond Road, sheen; another, Mr. H. A. Barrow, lives at Whitton, Hounslow, has offices at Temple Chambers, Fleet Street, and is editor of the Cyclist. Aubrey is employed at the Legal and Mercantile Creditors' Protection Association, 28, Borough High Street. I wrote the letters to the Foreign Office, but Mr. Fowler knows all about it. James Gibson is a commercial traveller in the fancy line. I met him one day in the Four Swans Royal Hotel, Bishopsgate, when he said he was going abroad, to Germany, I think, and asked me to get him a passport. I wrote the letter and he signed it, and after getting the passport I handed it to him at the Four swans. Gibson is a short, stoutish, good-looking man; I knew him when I had offices as a solicitor in Devonshire Chambers. I cannot say in what part of the Chambers his offices are situated. One of the clerks from 23, Borough High Street, came into the Globe, Borough Market, when I was there, they all use that house, and said 'George' (meaning Borman), who is secretary to the Legal and Mercantile Creditors' Protection Association, was going abroad, and wanted a passport. I said 'Oh, I will get him one.' I went to Mr. Fowler's office in Dowgate Hill and wrote the letter, and left it with the head barman at the Globe for Borman to sign when he came in called for it a day or two afterwards, when I found it signed. After I got the passport I left it at the Globe with the head barman for him to hand to George; the clerk, I don't remember which one it was asked me, paid me the money for it; I only charged him the 2s. I paid for it. Carlton Carlton I have known from childhood; he lives at 17, Russell Road, Kensington. I was present at his sister's wedding; I don't think it is so long ago as November,' 1882. I am a trustee to one of them. I met him at the Cannon Street Station on the day the letter is dated, and he said he was going to Italy and required a passport. I said 'I will get you one,' and I went into Dowgate Hill and wrote out the application while he waited at the station; he signed it on my re-turn. If I had obtained the passport I should have posted it off to 17, Russell Road, as I thought he still resided there. I Know they hare a country house near Chester somewhere. I shall be staying at my daughter's for the next few days, and you can always find out where I am from her, or from one of my sons. People apply to me to get them passports because I am so well known; they call me the 'Walking Directory.' I don't do anything for a living, I have enough to live on without doing any work.")

Cross-examined. I do not suppose he could have gone away if he had chosen—I did not think it was a Nihilist plot—I said to the prisoner "You won't be detained now, but we want to know where we can find you; what is your explanation about this?"—he told us where he could be found, but we did not go there—it might be true.

GEORGE PEARCE OXLEY . I am chief barman at the Globe, Borough Market; I was so in July—I know the prisoner by sight—he did not leave a certificate with me said to be signed by George Borman, nor did I hand it back to him.

Cross-examined. There are two other barmen—we give orders to them to take nothing in, and they would not take it in.

EMMA SHILLING . I have lived at 17, Russell Road, Kensington since November, 1882—no such person as Carlton Carlton lived there last July

—Mrs. Hankey, my mistress, is an independent lady; she bought the house of Mrs. Carlton, and has lived there the whole of the time I have been there.

Cross-examined. A letter arrived there three weeks ago, and I returned it—Mrs. Carlton removed in 1878.

JOHN SMITH (Policeman). On 21st August I saw the prisoner at the Four Swans, Bishopsgate Street—I told him I held a warrant for his arrest and read it to him—he made no reply—I had seen him early in August, when inquiries were made.

Cross-examined. I saw him at the Foreign Office—Inspector Tonbridge gave me information—my impression was that the passports were to be used for an unlawful purpose, but not for Nihilists.

MR. PEACOCK submitted that there was no proof of any intent to defraud, or that any person could be defrauded, as the Foreign Office had received their fee. There might be an attempt to deceive, but not to commit a particular fraud or a specific wrong. (See Stephen's Digest, p. 288.) MR. POLAND stated that the indictment charged an intent to prejudice, injure, defraud, or deceise, and referred to Reg v. Toshack, 2nd Dennison: the forgery consisted in obtaining something which was to be put of as a genuine document for as improper purpose. The RECORDER, having consulted MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS, ruled that there was evidence of an intention to defraud.

GUILTY .— Two Months' Imprisonment.

THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, September 23rd, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-918
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

918. ARTHUR HISLOP (34), CHARLES WESTRUP (33), and FREDERICK THOMPSON (32) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 1l. 4s., with intent to defraud.


ROBERT CHARLES KYNASTON . I am landlord of the Lion and Lamb, Margaret Street, Clerkenwell—I know Westrup and Hislop—I have known Westrup for years—on 27th August, at 6 o'clock p.m., they came into my bar—Westrup said "I should like you to cash a cheque for me"—I said "It is quite an unusual thing for me for strangers;' he was a stranger although I knew the man—he showed me this cheque (produed) marked "A," signed "W. Street," on the Central Bank of London, Shoreditch Branch, for 1l. 14s.—I said it was a very unusualthing for me to cash strange cheques—he replied "I hope you do not think that I should give you a wrong cheque. I have met this man in the neighbourhood, and did some work for him some short time ago," pointing to Hislop, "he owes me a small account, and not having sufficient cash in his pocket to pay me, he said if I could get this cheque cashed for him he would be able to do so"—I said "Who is this W. Street?" pointing to the name—he said it was W. Street, a chair manufacturer, of Old Street Road—I then referred to the Post-office Directory in the bar-parlour to see whether what he had asserted was corroborated, and I found that man was in existence for some years there, as the directory was five years old, so on the faith of what he said I cashed this cheque—he then asked me for a pen, ink, and paper to give Hislop the receipt for the money that was about to be paid over to him—I handed them to

him, and Westrup wrote out this receipt for the money Hislop had paid him—I had given him 1l. 11s. 6d., as he owed me half-a-crown, and he asked me to deduct it—I paid the cheque in on the Thursday morning next day, 28th August—on the following Monday it was returned to me marked "Forgery," from the City Bank, Holborn.

Cross-examined by Westrup. I understood you to say it was Hislop's cheque—you handed the cheque to me—I should not have cashed it had it been a large one—my suspicions were aroused by your coming twice—the first time you came I was resting; you told my wife you wanted a cheque cashed, and then you came again.

GEORGE EDWARD GRIFFEN . I live at the Crescent, Clapham Common—I know Hislop—about the beginning of August, I think on Saturday the 2nd, I met him, and he asked me if I could get him a cheque cashed, showing me this, signed A. Bianchi, for 5l. 12s., payable to "2643, or bearer"—I went with him to a shop to try and get it cashed—we did not succeed—Hislop told me it was drawn by a very respectable firm in Shoreditch; I referred to a directory to satisfy myself, and found the firm Antonio Bianchi—I asked him why the cheque was drawn by A. Bianchi instead of Antonio Bianchi—he answered that the firm did not bank with the Central Bank of London, but that Antonio Bianchi had given it to the man from whom he (Hislop) received it—I asked his name, he said "Westrup, of Hoxton," and he said he received this cheque from Bianchi, a looking-glass manufacturer for whom he worked, for work done—my friend would have cashed it, knowing Bianchi, but had not got the cash, and I took it home with me—on Tuesday morning, 5th August, I met the prisoner again, and handed him the cheque—he said "I quite thought you would have been able to cash it for me, as I wanted the money badly"—I then went to my lawyer, Mr. Duke, in Chancery Lane, and asked him to cash it—Hislop was not with me—I got 2l. from Mr. Duke for the cheque—I handed the prisoner 1l., promising him the balance when the cheque had been passed through the bank, and he arranged to meet me on Thursday morning, the 7th, to receive the balance—he met me then, I had not received the balance, as the cheque had not come back, so he was to meet me on the Friday morning—I saw Duke and went with him to his bank through which the cheque had been passed, and he brought the cheque to me marked "No account," as it now appears—I was very wroth and went back to the prisoner—I did not show him the cheque—I said it was too bad of him to bring me a cheque like that, and that he had better see Mr. Duke, as Mr. Duke as well as myself was very wroth about it—he said he would see Mr. Duke—I said "You had better find the man Westrup from whom you received the cheque, where does he live?"—he said he could find him in the evening, and I said I would meet him if possible at the public-house opposite the Britannia—he gave me the name; I forget it—I did not go there, and did not see him again till I saw him at Worship Street police-court.

By the COURT. I required the endorsement, and the name Westrup was put on in my presence, and then I endorsed it myself and passed it to my solicitor—the cheque was crossed when he handed it to me—I asked nothing about the figures—it is usual to have cheques payable to numbers.

CHARLES ELTHAM . I am an oilman at 68, Dalston Lane—I knew Hislop before 19th August—on that day he asked me for the amount of an account he owed me some three years old—I told him I had written the amount off some time ago, and I could not look up the old book for it, but if he was anxious to pay I had no doubt I should accept any amount he might estimate it at—he then proposed 2l.; I accepted it, and he then tendered this cheque (For 4l. 7s. 6d., signed "Charles Allen" payable to J. Smith or bearer, and endorsed "J. Smith")—the endorsement was on it at the time—I do not know the writing, only from comparison with the cheque—when he handed me the cheque I said he had better wait till he could pay me in ready money—he said, "You need not fear about the cheque being all right, it is one of Mr. Allen's cheques, whom you know very well"—I said, "Very good, if it is Mr. Allen's I will give you 1l. on account, and will leave the balance till the cheque is returned from the bank"—he then asked me when he should call for it—I said "Saturday morning"—the 19th was a Tuesday—I asked him to give me the name and address of the payee and his own—this he wrote on one of my bill-heads, "A. Hislop, 139, Curtain Road, Essex Road"—I went to that address; he was not known there—on the following Friday night he came for the balance; I did not give it to him—he came again on Saturday morning about 8 o'clock, when I gave him 1l. 7s. 6d., which, deducting the 2l. he owed me, was the balance—I did not then know the address was wrong, not till the cheque was returned on Saturday afternoon about 5 o'clock marked "No account"—after I had paid the balance I was going out of town till Tuesday, and when I returned I saw Mr. Jenman about the matter, and he went with me to Mr. Allen, and we made inquiries at that address and at the address Hishop had given me.

Cross-examined. I understood Allen to be Hislop's brother-in-law; he told me so.

Re-examined. I did not know the brother-in law's Christian name.

CHARLES BLACKSALL . I am a clerk in the Central Bank, Shorediteh branch—these three cheques came out of one of our cheque-books, which was issued to Mr. Charles Westrup in the year 1872—we have no customer at our bank of the name of A. Bianchi—we have one of the name of Charles Allen, but his signature is nothing like this—this is not the signature of any customer of ours—we have a customer named W. Street; his signature is nothing like this—there is a great resemblance between the "J. Smith" as payee and the endorsement "J. Smith," and the writing of the "A. W. Hislop," the endorsement, and that on the bill-head, "A. Hielop," seem to be the same—we judge by the general character.

Cross-examined by Thompson. I have known you as representing Messrs. Grain and Son, the notaries, when you collected for the Joint Stock the City, and the Imperial Banks many years ago, and since then for Messrs. Glyn, Mills, and Currie—I know you by sight—I know nothing against you.

ANTONIO BIANCHI . I am a looking-glass manufacturer at 225, Shoreditch, and a member of the firm of Antonio Bianchi—this is not my signature, nor that of any member of our firm—I have no account at the Central Bunk of London—I gave no authority to any person to sign this

cheque—I do not know any of the prisoners—this signature has a general resemblance to mine.

CHARLES WESTRUP . I am a chair-maker, of 160, Kingsland Road—the prisoner is my son—I had an account at the Shoreditch branch of the Central Bank of London some years ago—about the year 1872 I had a cheque-book—I do not know what became of it—when I heard of this case I looked in my drawer where my other books were, and it was gone—when I last saw it it was in a box in my house with a lot of books and moulds about nine months ago—there were cheques inside it then—the box was not locked—my son did not live with me; he visited me—the box the book was in was under my bench where I work in the shop—errand boys and any one could have access to it—I thought no more of the cheque-book than I did of the other old books there.

Cross-examined by Westrup. Ten or twelve other people work in the shop—you have only been in the shop when other people have been there to my knowledge—you have seldom been in my place—we were on very good terms—before Whitsuntide you worked with me, but trade being so bad I have had nothing for you to do.

Cross-examined by Thompson. I have never seen you or Hislop, and know you in no way, nor do I know anybody who knows you.

JOHN FREEMAN ALLEN . I am a shipping agent, and live at 24, Queens-down Road, Clapton—I know Hislop, he is my brother-in-law—the signature Charles Allen to this cheque is not my handwriting, and was not written with my authority—I have no account at that bank—I know Hislop's writing—to the best of my belief the endorsement to this cheque is in Hislop's handwriting.

HENRY JENMAN (Police Sergeant N). On 27th August I received some information from Mr. Eltham, and on 1st September took Hislop into custody in the Englefield Road, a turning out of the Kingsland Road, leading into the Essex Road—I said to him "I shall take you into custody for forging and uttering a cheque on Mr. Eltham, of Dalston Lane"—lie said "I had better say nothing"—I afterwards took him to the station, and he made a statement there which I wrote down at the time in his presence: "I received the cheque in good faith from a man named West-rup who lives, or lodges, in the Kingsland Road"—he gave me his description, which I wrote down—he went with me and Sergeant Armstrong to a lodging-house in Kingsland Road on the morning of the 2nd, where we saw Westrup—Hislop pointed him out—Armstrong took him into custody in my presence; when we came out on the bridge Hislop said "That is the man I received the cheque from"—Westrup said "It is a lie"—I had only mentioned Mr. Eltham cheque at that time—I knew nothing about any other one at that time—they were both taken to the station and charged together—previous to that Hislop had told me where I could find another cheque which had been cashed at the Lion and Lamb, Clerkenwell—West-rup was not present then—Hislop told me he went with Westrup to a flat-fronted house near the prison, I think, in Clerkenwell, and "we cashed a cheque for 1l. 14s."—he did not know the sign of the house, but from the description he gave me of it I went to the Lion and Lamb, and saw Mr. Kynaston—after they were charged with the two offences, Hislop said "I had no intention of defrauding Mr. Eltham; I received the cheque in good faith; I believed it would be met; I received it, the cheque, from Charles Westrup, the other prisoner," pointing to him—I wrote that

statement down, read it to him, and he signed it "A.W. Hislop"—Westrup was present—he said "He is telling a falsehood in that last statement; I know nothing about that bit of business"—he signed that "Charles Westrup"—we have no cells at Daleton—I conveyed them to Stoke Newington—on the way Westrup said, "Aren't you going to take Thompson into custody?—I said, "No, what is there against him?"—he said, "Oh, he filled up the cheques"—I have known Thompson for some time, and had been in communication with him before this, and he had been rendering us assistance as to where Westrup was, and tried to find out for us the bed in which Westrup was sleeping—I told Thompson I had got Hislop in custody for uttering false cheques, and we wanted to find a man named Westrup—I did not know Thompson had anything to do with it, and I said, "You told me you knew where he lives"—Thompson said "Yes," and took us to the lodging-house, but gave us the wrong number of the bed, and we could not find him—it is a large common lodging-house with about 300 beds, I believe—we afterwards found Westrup was there—I did not give Thompson any particulars about the cheques then—I afterwards wrote a letter in the name of Armstrong asking Thompson to meet me at the Railway Tavern public-house, and I saw him about a week afterwards on 9th September—I said, "You had better come to the police-court to-morrow, Westrup has said that you filled up the cheques"—he said, "I did not fill them up"—after a little while he said, "Well, I did fill up one for a small amount for Hislop, I think it was about 1l. 14s., he wanted to show it to his wife to get some money"—I took these cheques out of my pocket, but only showed him the top one marked "A" for 1l. 14s., and he said, "That is the one"—I put it in my book and told him I would meet him the next morning—I did so, and went to the police-court with him, and took him to Inspector Glass, who had four cheques, these three among them, in his hand—Glass said to him, "You say you filled this one tip"—he Compared them and said, "They seem a great deal alike, one man has had to sign this"—the prisoner then took hold of the cheques and selected these three from the others and said, "These three I filled up"—before he was charged he said, "I don't see you can do anything with me, I have never received a halfpenny of the money"—I he was then taken to the rear of the Court and charged, and after that he wrote out this statement himself—we supplied him with paper, and he afterwards read it over to the other prisoners: "September 10th, 1884. I was asked by Mr. Hislop to fill up a cheque, he telling me at the time it was only for the purpose of showing it to a relation of his; that would enable him to make believe that he was entitled to receive some money in a few days, and of course his relation would then lend him some, knowing that he would pay him back again when Hislop received money from the cheque. When Hislop asked me to do this I said I would do so for him providing he faithfully promised me he would not have to negotiate it saw Hislop again after a few days, and he said he had not seen his relation, the party being out of town, and of course the cheque was too old to show, and would I write another one for him. I asked him to give me the other one back or to tear it up before me, and he replied that he had already torn it up. I believed him and wrote another. Some time after he met me again, and asked me to write another for the same purpose, to enable him to borrow 10s.

I from his wife; I did so after he told me he had destroyed the other. I met him in the City again, and he told me he had not used any of I them, that he had not cashed any cheques, and further that he had not received any proceeds, and until to-night I have never seen him again.—Frederick Thompson."

Cross-examined by Westrup. I did not hare hold of you going from Dalston to Stoke Newington—I said at Worship Street that if any one bad told me but Thompson I should not have believed him—I said I was surprised when Thompson admitted he signed the cheques; I am surprised now.

Cross-examined by Thompson. I should say filled up, not signed—I have known you 18 months or two years, always as a respectable man—I saw you after I arrested Hislop and about an hour before I arrested Westrup; I did not see you after that until the night of the 9th—between that you received a letter dated the 8th, asking you to meet me on the 9th at 8 o'clock; you did meet me, you were a little late—I found afterwards you went there, and being a quarter of an hour late and not finding us there, you went to Dalston Police-station and inquired for me and Armstrong—you waited for us—I proposed you should come to Worship Street the next morning to hear the trial, and you proposed we should call at your house for you, having given us your address some days before—we called and were told you had gone to have your breakfast, but before we got many yards from the house you were calling us back—you came to the Court and waited outside with us for some hours for the case to come on.

Re-examined. He said in reply to the Magistrate something about the signature to the cheques, but what it was I did not hear.

CHARLES BLACKSELL (Re-examined). I should say it is all the same writing on this cheque signed "A. Bianchi"—there is a difference in the body of this 4l. 1s. cheque, "Charles Allen"—in the "J. Smith" cheque there is a difference between the signature and the body; it looks on the face of it as if written by another person—before the Magistrate I heard Thompson say he did not think he was doing any harm in writing it, and that he did not do it with the intention of getting any benefit by it.

By Thompson. I cannot swear to the writing—I did not say there were three different writings on the three cheques; I said the 4l. 7s. 6d. purporting to be drawn by Charles Allen appeared to be in a different handwriting to the signature, and that the signature "Charles Allen" and the whole of the other two cheques is in the same handwriting.

By MR. AVORY. Looking at the signature "Bianchi" to the cheque and to the deposition I should say they were similar—if the person had intended to imitate the signature he would have written "Ant" instead of "A.," so that it shows he did not know Mr. Bianchi's signature—the same person wrote the "J. Smith" on the body of the cheque and that on the back of it, that is my opinion only—the writing "A. Hislop" on the billhead is also similar.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Westrup says: "I did not see Thompson write the cheques." Thompson says: "I have nothing to add to my statement."

Hislop in his defence stated that he dealt with the cheques in good faith, and without thinking a fraud was being committed; that the cheque in Griffin's case he obtained from Westrup; that in Eltham's case it was not

likely he would have called for the balance on the Saturday if he knew it was worthless, and that in Kynaston's case he knew nothing of the matter; and he denied Thompson's statement, and asserted that he never had blank cheques or a cheque-book in his possession.

Westrup stated that he did not represent to Kynaston that the cheque was his own, that Hislop had drawn him into it, and that he had acted perfectly innocently, and he denied all knowledge of his father's cheque-book.

Thompson repeated in substance his statement to the inspector, and stated that at this time he was in a situation as collector at about 12s. a day, and that it was unlikely he would run this risk for the sake of what his share in the forgeries would come to.


HISLOP and WESTRUP— GUILTY of uttering.

HISLOP then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1883.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. WESTRUP— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-919
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Corporal > whipping

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919. FRANCIS SAGE (17) , Robbery with violence on Tom Fitzpatrick Knibb, and stealing his watch and chain.

MR. BLOXHAM Prosecuted.

TOM FITZPATRICK KNIBB . I am an ironmonger at 77, Rotherfield Street, Islington—about 8.30 on the evening of 2nd September I was going into my house and was about opening my gate when the prisoner came up to me; I am certain of him—he said "Does Mr. So-and-so live here?"—I turned round and looked him full in the face and said "Who?" he came a little closer and said "Mr. So-and-so," at the same time making a snatch at my chain, and then giving a sudden jerk twice, he got it and my watch—I called out "Police" and "Stop thief," and I was about running after him and was so close to him that my fingers touched his shoulder, when another man came running at my side and threw me over right on to my face by drawing my legs from under me it seemed like—I fell down on the pavement, cut my nose and my fingers very severely, and my legs have been very bad so that I can scarcely walk—I had been ill, but was getting better and it threw me back very much—the prisoner ran—I called out "Stop thief! Stop thief!"—I did not see him again till at the police-station—this is my watch which I saw at the police-station; it is gold, and with the chain worth ten guineas—I have lost the chain, and the glass of the watch was broken.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The police did not come and give me some description of you—I am quite certain that this is my watch and you are the man who stole it, you took it and the chain.

JOSEPH HELSON (Police Sergeant N). At 8.30 on 2nd September I was in Rotherfield Street, Islington, when I heard a tussle and a crash on the footway and saw some one fall down, at the same time crying "Stop thief," and I saw the prisoner running away from me towards Ecclesbourne Road—I ran alter him into Queensberry Street—he ran round a van standing there and back into Ecclesbourne Road; and just as he get there I laid hold of his shoulder, when I was struck on my toes as I ran by a man I had not seen before who must have come round the van, and I was tripped up and thrown on my face—I got up, continued the pursuit through Queensberry Street, calling "Stop thief," along Essex Road into New North Road, where I saw the prisoner standing by a uniform constable—the prisoner said "What am I taken for?"—I said "I don't

know, I heard a cry of 'Stop thief in Rotherville Road and saw you running away, you will have to go to the police-station"—I handed him over to two uniform officers and sent him to the police-station—on the way back I spoke to Maud Milton and received this watch from her—I spoke to another female also standing by the barrow—I then went back to Rotherville Street where I had seen the skirmish and some one fall on the pavement and I found Mr. Knibb bleeding from, the hands and face—he complained very much of his knee, he was very lame—we took him to the police-station, where he identified his watch and also the prisoner as the man who had stolen it—I am certain the prisoner is the man I saw leave him—Mr. Knibb was just by his gate—I did not lose light of the prisoner from the time I saw Mr. Knibb fall and the prisoner run till I arrested him.

Cross-examined. I was tripped up about 70 yards from where this took place—I did not come and ask what you were being taken to the station for—I took you from the constable who apprehended you, I was only a few yards behind you—the constable said "Is this the man you want, sergeant?"—I said "Yes"—he said "What for?"—I said I did not know.

MAUD MILTON . I live at 2a, Queen's Place, Queensberry Street, Islington—on 2nd September I was at my flower stall about 8.30 when the prisoner ran by, and as he passed took his hand from his pocket and threw something into the stall—two young girls came and said "He has thrown some-thing behind there"—I went and saw it was this watch—I gave it to another girl—I an quite certain the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined. When the watch was thrown I was standing behind my stall just going to pack up my flowers—I recognise your features—the detective did not come and give me a description of you—they called me to go to the station, and I went, taking the watch with the girl who picked it up.

The Prisoners statements before the magistrate. "I think it is hard they should take me for a thing I know nothing about."

The prisoner in his defence repeated his statement and asserted it was made up between the detectives.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in March. 1883, in the name of Thomas Richards. Six other convictions were proved against the prisoner.

There was another indictment against the prisoner for a robbery with violence to the day previous to the one tried.— Five Years' Penal Servitude and 20 strokes with the Cat.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-920
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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920. JOHN ABBOTT (32) and JAMES MARTIN (21) , Robbery with violence on Henry Taylor and stealing his bag and 4l. 10s.

MR. CULPEPER. Prosecuted.

HENRY TAYLOR . I am a butcher, of 44, Rhodes well Road, stepney—on Sunday morning, 20th July, about 1 or 2 o'clock, I was in Commercial Street, when a young woman spoke to me—I told her to go away and she was going, when a man came behind me and laid me down on my back and put his hand over my watch and the other over my throat while the other two men robbed me—there were three men altogether, two were caught—I cannot tell if either of the prisoners was the man who

put his hand over my mouth—they took 4l. 10s. in silver in a bag from me—I cannot recognise the prisoners, I was knocked senseless.

Cross-examined by Abbott. I did not have any marks on me, but I hurt my back, it has not been right since—I was coming along by the Queen's public-house in Commercial Street.

Cross-examined by Martin. I do not identify either of you.

MANUS FRANKS . I am a cigar maker, of 34, Shepherd Street, Spital, fields—on Sunday morning, 20th July, about two o'clock, I was coming along Commercial Street and I saw the two prisoners and another man throw the butcher-man down and lay on him, I did not nee them robbing him—I went to call a constable; when he came two men were there, one had gone—after I saw them lying on the prosecutor the two men went and stood at the corner of Dorset Street—I am certain of those two—Martin stood in front, and the other, Abbott, caught hold of him behind and so threw him down.

Cross-examined by Abbott. I was standing at the corner of the Metropolitan Hospital—the Queen's Head is about 25 yards from there—I did not have to go 10 yards to get a constable, not so tar as the corner of Flower and Dean Street—it was not out of sight of where the robbery occurred—I did not tell the Magistrate the prisoners did not attempt to run away—I was standing about 25 yards from the place to the robbery.

By the JURY. I did not see them all the while I was talking to the constable—they were standing at the corner of Dorset Street, that was out of sight of the Queen's Head—I kept observation on them the whole time I stood at the corner.

Cross-examined by Martin. I gave you into custody—I said to the constable "There is one of the other ones," and you immediately wanted to run away, and the constable would not let you.

EDWARD DODGE (Policeman E 266). On 20th July, from information I received from Franks, I arrested the prisoners at the corner of Dorset Street and Commercial Street—Dorset Street runs at right anglee to Commercial Street, and the Queen's Head is nearly opposite Dorset Street—standing at the corner of Dorset Street you can easily see the place where the robbery occurred, it is not above 30 yards—if you go down Dorset Street you would not be able to see the Queen's Head, unless you went only a little way down one side—I arrested both the prisoners at the same time about ten minutes after the robbery—when Abbott was arrested he said "I was coming along from the fire," we had afire the same morning, "and I was knocked down and robbed myself"—I arrested Martin at the same time—another constable took Martin to the station—we were both together—Martin, when arrested, said "You had better search us and see if we have got the money about us."

By the COURT. They were both standing at the corner of Dorset Street—I arrested Abbott, and another constable came up directly after I had turned my back and brought Martin to the station—that constable is not here—there was nothing found on the prisoners.

Cross-examined. I was at the corner of Flower and Dean Street and Commercial Street when I received information of this robbery.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. "We are innocent." Abbott in his defence stated that there was a disturbance in Commercial Street and he lost his hat and was mistaken for another man, and the constable

told him to go home and he went and stood at the corner where he was arrested; and he argued that if guilty he would not have gone and stood still there, but would have made his escape. Martin said he was talking to a friend at the corner and saw Abbott taken, and was continuing his conversation when another constable came up and arrested him, and that when taken he had only 4d. in his possession.


ABBOTT then PLEADED GUILTY*†to a Conviction of felony in April, 1871, at this Court, in the name of David Williams, and MARTIN* to one in February, 1883, in the name of Joseph Reardon.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each ,

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-921
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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921. WALTER SAMUEL BANGS (20) , Feloniously wounding George James, with intent to murder. Second Count, to resist his apprehension. Third Count, to do grievous bodily harm.


GEORGE JAMES (Policeman Y 529). On Sunday morning, August 24th, a little after 12 at midnight, I was called to a row in Inkerman Road, Kentish Town—I went with another policeman named Manns—there were about 100 persons collected together there—I saw the prisoner standing in the crowd; I asked him what was the matter—he said he bad been struck by another man—a man named Kennivan then came up to Mann, and made a complaint, and subsequently he was taken in custody—linen told the prisoner to go away quietly; he went away as far as spring Row, the crowd following; I followed the crowd—I lost sight of Bangs—when I got into Spring Bow I saw him commence fighting with another man named Nelson—I told the prisoner I should take him into custody—he said "You b——I will stick you"—he drew his bayonet from the sheath, which was hanging at his right side, and stabbed me in the stomach, about two inches below the navel—he then ran away in the direction of Inkerman Road—I ran after him—the people were trying to stop him, and a man named Fox worth coming from Inkerman Road tripped him up on the pavement—he then put his foot on his neck and one loot on the bayonet, and I took the bayonet away from him—he had not it in his hand—he was not dressed as a rifleman; he was in plain clothes—when he was charged I heard him tell the inspector that he had just come straight from parade—he did not say where from—I was off duty, in uniform.

Cross-examined. When my attention was attracted I came up to the place, where there were about 100 persons; it was just after closing time, 12 o'clock—I don't know the prisoner—I had never seen him before—there is a tavern called the Crimea Tavern near where this took place—I know it very well, when I am off duty I go and play dominoes there with Pearce, the other constable—I have seen the prisoner there playing dominoes—when called to this crowd I saw his father there—I could not see whether he was knocked about—he summoned somebody at the police-court—I saw that he had a black eye when he was at the police-court on. Monday morning binding over the 'bus driver—I did not see any violence

used to him—I saw Fox worth, the 'bus driver, trip the prisoner up, and he fell dowu—he was not examined at the police-court—he is not here to-day—I had not known him before; he came to the station, and gave his name and address to me—I saw no violence used to the prisoner by the crowd, only when he was fighting in Spring Row, when I went up to him there—I did not go on duty on the following Monday—this wound was not merely a scratch; I don't wish to magnify the thing—it was described by the surgeon as a little puncture one-eighth of an inch wide—I went on duty, I think, a week this Thursday—I can't exactly say the date; I have never been at work since; I was laid up eight days with it—when the prisoner was taken to the station, and the charge made, he was not let out on a 5l. bail—I don't know when he was let out on bail—the inspector is not here who took the charge—the case was heard on the Monday—he has surrendered here to-day—when I took him he appeared to be excited—he then said "What did you say, you b——? I will stick you"—I did not say at the police-court that he said "You b——I will stab you"—I did not have a tussle with the prisoner, and throw him on the ground—he did not fall back on his head—I did not hear that the blade had flown out of the cupboard—I have been in the police several years—I have never been wounded before—I saw Pearce in Spring Row; that was just previous to the expression made use of, "You b——, I will stick you"—I did not see where Pearce came from—he came up to me, and said "All right, James"—he ran with me to apprehend the prisoner—I should think the distance from Spring How to Inker man Road is about 70 or 80 yards—I have been on friendly terms with the prisoner ever since that night—I had a friendly glass with him last night, I only had one.

WILLIAM PEARCE (Policeman Y 272). On Saturday, August 23rd, about midnight, I was in plain clothes at 38, Inkerman Road, where I live—I was at my door; I saw a crowd about 25 yards off, light opposite my door—I saw the prisoner there and his father—I had known them before by sight—there was a noise and quarrelling there—I afterwards paw the prisoner and his father leave the crowd, and pats my door; they turned to the right—I do not know where the prisoner lives—at the end of Inkerman Road there is Spring Row—a short time afterwards I saw the prisoner found there with a bayonet on his belt on the right-hand side under his coat in this sheath (produced)—the prisoner was rowing there; fighting and struggling—I saw James there—the prisoner stabbed him—I did not see him do anything before he stabbed him—I did not hear James speak to him first—I heard the prisoner say "You b——I will stab you"—I saw him take the bayonet Join its sheath and stab the constable—the moment he did that he ran from Spring Row into Inker-man Road—James and I both ran after him—he was tripped up, and taken in custody; I went with him to the station.

Cross-examined. I was off duty—it was about a quarter-past 12 when I heard this disturbance—I was at my door—I saw the prisoner and I another man rowing together, not fighting; I afterwards saw them I fighting in Spring Row—I have been on friendly terms with the prisoner, I and have had a friendly glass with him, but I paid for my own—I had a glass of beer with him and James while waiting for this trial to come I on—after we left the court James and I had a game of dominoes at the Crimea—the prisoner was not there—I did not see the prisoner after he

I left the police-court to go to the railway station—I did not see him at the Crimea last night—I did not have a glass with him anywhere last night—James was with me at the Crimea last night—I left this Court with James; I was at the Crimea first—I did not say at the police-court that the prisoner said "You b——, I will stick you"—I was on duty at the police-station on the Sunday evening after this occurrence on the Saturday—the prisoner was not admitted to bail in my presence; he was admitted to bail—I have been in the police eight or nine months—I saw the prisoner's father on the Saturday night in the row—I saw he had got a blow on the arm at the station, that was done while I was at my door; I do not know who did that—there were about sixty or seventy people there altogether.

WILLIAM THOMAS PROUT . I live at 9, Cathcart Street, Kentish Town—on the night of this occurrence I was in the Crimea Tavern, Inkerman Road, when this row was going on; I went out and saw the prisoner running towards where I was standing, he had got a naked bayonet in his hand, a crowd was following him crying out "Stop him"; I saw him stopped and taken in custody.

Cross-examined. I was standings in Inkerman Road—I saw constable Pearce first outside his house when the prisoner was apprehended; he had hold of the prisoner—I did not set Pearce in Spring Row, I was not there.

SYLTVESTER MANN (Policeman). I was at the station when the prisoner was charged—he said to the inspector in answer to the charge "I had just come from Albany Street Barracks from parade, and the constable knocked me down"—I never heard him say any more.

ALFRED PARCHMENT . I am Sergeant Major of the 11th Middlesex; the prisoner is a private in that regiment—on 23rd August there was a parade at Albany Street Barracks at 6.25, but the prisoner did not attend—it was dismissed something after 8.

Cross-examined. About sixty volunteers attended on this Saturday night—we left there some time after eight—it was a battalion drill—the usual number to make a battalion drill is 80.

DENIS SIDNEY DOWNES . I am divisional surgeon of police at Kentish Town—I examined the constable James at a quarter-past 1 on the Sunday morning, 24th August, at the police-station—I found a punctured wound in the abdomen on the right side about two inches below the navel, it had gone through the trousers and shirt, and inflicted a wound about one-eighth of an inch deep in the centre; there was some blood on the shirt—it was not a dangerous wound—it was just such a wound as might have been caused by a stab with a bayonet—he was under my care about eight days.

Cross-examined. The instrument had out from left to right—I noticed a little cut in the trousers and the shirt, and the skin was severed—there was an abrasion on the right thigh, as if from a kick, about two inches below the hipjoint—the trousers were torn over it—I did not see any old wounds.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did not draw the bayonet. I was thrown on the back of my head, and as I fell the bayonet fell from the scabbard; as I went to pick the bayonet up the constable came and caught hold of me; in the struggle he must have got scratched,

I did not stab him. At the station they knocked me down and kicked me. I am bruised on the arm and on the ear."

Witnesses for the Defence.

SAMCEL BANGS . I reside at 44, Willis Road, Kentish Town—I am the prisoner's father; he has just turned twenty-one; I have had him under my eye all his life; he bears a character in the neighbourhood of being a respectable, peaceable man—he is a member of a volunteer corps—on Saturday night, August 23rd, I was outside the Crimea Tavern in Inkerman Road—I had been in the company of my son—a party of cricketers were at the Crimea drinking; the prisoner being a little the worse for drink created a little disturbance with them—I think some of them were the worse for drink—I tried to get my son away, and was struck and knocked down, I don't know who by; I believe it was one of cricketers—my son saw that and interfered, and he also was knocked down as well as myself, and another young man who interfered on our behalf was also knocked down—I do not know his name—this was just opposite the Crimea—about five minutes after this a young man struck me in the eye—I said "You scoundrel, I will give you in charge"—I saw a police constable, 526 I think it was; I ran towards him—I said "This man has struck me in the eye, I will give him in charge"—he then in retaliation said "This young man has struck me and I will give him in charge"—that was my son—the constable took both their names and addresses, and said "If you don't go away I will lock you both up"—the prisoner said "All right, governor, I know you, I will go away"—the other one did not and he was locked up—on the road to the station some man, I do not know who it was, said "What did you want to lock that man up for? it was not him that struck you," and immediately I was knocked down again—that was in Raglan Place—my son was near, he saw me knocked down—I tried to get up and was struck down again—I heard my son say "Let my father get up"—on getting up I saw him in the hands of constable James; the prisoner struggled with him and the policeman threw him—he got up several times and was thrown down—go which way he would he would not give him any chance of going away—as he fell I heard the ring of a bayonet on the ground—I saw the prisoner get up with it in his hand; the sound was something like silver, a sharp metal sound—James immediately closed with him, and in the struggle, I don't know if they were struggling for the bayonet, the constable was thrown, or fell; he rolled over on the pavement—some one in the Crimea called out to my son "Run away"—he ran away about forty yards—I followed him, I did not see him thrown, but I saw him on the ground, and I saw constable Pearce come off his steps and go to assist James—Pearce had not been engaged in this thing, that I will swear—my son was then taken to the police-station. on Sunday evening he was admitted out on bail for 5l.—the case was heard at the police-court, he was admitted to bail, and he has surrendered here to-day.

Cross-examined. I had been drinking with my son all that evening—I was not the worse for liquor; I had had a glass or two—I went home to my tea about 6, and left him in the private parlour at the Crimea—he does not live with me, he lives at 32, Grafton Road, that is about 60 yards from the Crimea—when I was with him at 6 o'clock he was not wearing

his bayonet—I did not know that he had got it till I heard the ring on the pavement—I do not know how he got it.

By the COURT. In the struggle James was thrown—the prisoner stood there for a quarter of a minute before James said he was stabbed—James struggled to get up, and the prisoner stood there without attempting to move; the bayonet was then in his hand—I saw the bayonet in his hand from the time he got up till the constable said he was stabbed; it never left his hand—when the constable got up he struggled with the prisoner again—the prisoner fell on his back; the back of his head came on the pavement—his legs were up, the constable tripped him—his legs were up about a couple of feet from the ground.

CAROLINE HOPKINS I live at 8, Raglan Place, Kentish Town, and am the wife of Herbert Hopkins, a paperhanger—on Saturday night, 23rd August, I was outside my door—Raglan Place is the continuation of Spring Row—this was after 12—I saw the policeman in uniform throw the prisoner over; I did not hear the prisoner say anything to him—I wan near enough to touch them—I was there from the commencement to the finish—I heard the prisoner ask the policeman to let him get up—I heard the policeman say "Go on"—after the prisoner was knocked down he got up again, and the policeman had a struggle with him and fell—I heard some one then tell the prisoner to run away—I have seen the constable James since the hearing at the police-court—I saw him outside here, and spoke to him about this case.

Cross-examined. When the prisoner ran away I saw something glistening in his hand—I was standing quite close all the time—he did not say "I will stab you, you b——," or"I will stick you, you b——"—the constable said nothing—I must have heard if the constable had said "I am stabbed"—he did not say that.

GEORGE MENCE . I am a plumber, and live in Grafton Road, Kentish Town—I saw the prisoner running down Inkerman Road, and James following—I was standing on the opposite side when the prisoner was thrown down—I saw Pearce come out of his house, at the same time putting on his hat and coat, and ran and assisted James—that was the last I saw of him.

WILLIAM TURNBULL , M.R.C.S. I live at 146, Hampatead Road—I attended the Kentish Town Police-station on Thursday, 10th September, and there examined the policeman James; Dr. Downes was present—I found a small cicatrix on the upper portion of the right side of the abdomen, quite healed—there had been a scratch wound or an incised wound, as if by the point of something glancing along it—it might have been caused by the point of a bayonet passing along the surface of the abdomen—it was a mere scratch.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Six Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-922
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

922. WILLIAM COSTELLO (38) , Feloniously wounding Emma Costello, with intent to murder.


EMMA COSTELLO . I am the prisoner's wife—we used to live at 158, Bemerton Street, Islington—on Saturday night, 13th July, I had been drinking—I had not been out with my husband in the afternoon—I was indoors with him—I can't recollect anything whatever—I have no recollection till I found myself in the hospital on the Sunday morning—I recollect

being in my room—we only occupy one room—I was sitting on the bed-clothes, the prisoner was sitting near the window a very short distance from me—we had been quarrelling in the afternoon when he first came in—it was 3 when he went out again—we had been quarrelling because he would not give me any money—he had had nothing to drink when he went out first—he came in between 5 and 6—we did not quarrel again then—he went out for some more drink and we had the drink together in the room—we had two pots of ale; we were both alone; we drank the two pots between us—my daughter came in then, she is 18 years old, and she went out and fetched some more drink and came back and remained with us to have her tea—it was about half-past 7 then—I remember nothing else after that, only that I drank the remainder of the second pot of ale.

By the COURT. I don't recollect anything after she fetched the drink—I remember her going out and coming back—she brought the ale with her; I drank some of that—I don't recollect how it was done; I did not do anything to myself; we were not quarrelling then—I only remember finding myself in the hospital next morning between 6 and 7—when I commenced drinking the second ale I was in the room sitting on the end of the bedstead, and my husband was sitting on the other end near the window; we were both on the bed—my daughter went out in the evening—next morning I put my hand up to my throat and found it very sore—I am right-handed.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I don't remember breaking the gin bottle after I had drank the gin—my daughter fetched the gin after we had drank the beer—my daughter swept up the pieces of a broken bottle—I can't tell when it was broken; she told me she swept them up on the Sunday morning—I don't remember you turning over the bedstead when I wanted to try and get out at the door—I was not sober—when you picked me up and put me on the bed I don't recollect saying "I have done for it now, Bill."

ANNIE COSTELLO . I am the prisoner's daughter, the last witness is my mother—on Saturday evening, 30th August, about half-past 8 o'clock, I was down the road—I came in about a quarter to 9—my mother and father were inside, and the policeman—that was after her throat was cut—I came home before that, in the afternoon, between 3 and a quarter-past—my father sent me out for some drink—at that time he was sitting on a chair, and mother was sitting on the bedstead—mother was sober, father was drunk—I was in all the afternoon—I went out at a quarter to 8 o'clock—they were not quarrelling then—when I came back at a quarter to 9 o'clock I found a policeman there; my father was sitting on the bedstead with mother's head on his knee—I did not see her bleeding from the throat—I remember giving evidence before the Magistrate—I did not say that her throat was bleeding; I did not see her throat; I did not see any blood.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not taken a knife away from my mother for attempting to cut her throat—you have not done so in my presence—I do not remember when we lived in Ware Passage, in the first-floor front, your taking away a knife from her when she got out on the landing.

JANE ROGERS . I lived in the same house where the prisoner lived—on Saturday night, 30th August, I was coming down the stairs, as near as

I could guess about a quarter to 8 o'clock—my room is at the top, the prisoner's room is the back parlour, ground floor—when I came downstairs to the bottom I saw the prisoner at the door of his room—there was no light there—he said to me "Please will you give me a light?"—I said "Who is it?"—he said "Will you be so kind as to give me a light, for I think my wife has cut her throat"—he said would I be so kind as to let my boy fetch a candle; my little boy Johnny was there, the prisoner gave him a halfpenny to go and buy a candle—he is about 11 years of age—he went out and bought the candle and came back with it—it did not take many minutes to get it, only just across the road—the little boy lit the candle, and afterwards Mr. Costello turned round to me and said would I come in and look—I cannot say whether he or the little boy took the candle—I went into the room, and Mrs. Costello was lying on the floor, the back part of her head under the bedstead and the front part of her towards the fireplace—she was cuddled up like a ball, the back part of her head was under the bed and her face and hands towards the fireplace—she was saturated with blood; I could not say as her throat was cut—I said "Oh God, I cannot stop in here," and I left the room—I went over to the public-house and spoke to my son—I did not go back to the room till after the doctor was there—the prisoner was there then, and Mrs. Costello, and I heard her say that her husband Bill did it—the prisoner said "I did not." that was all.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I was leaving the room you did not ask me to send my boy for a policeman—I rushed out of the room too quick—you did send the boy for a policeman, but I was not there and I did not hear you.

JOHN ROGERS . I am 11 years old—I live at 153, Bemerton Street, on the top floor—I saw the prisoner at 9 o'clock on Saturday night, outside his room-door; he gave me a halfpenny and asked me to go and buy a candle—I went and bought it—it was about 9 o'clock—I came back and lit it and went into the prisoner's room—when I got in there I saw the woman Mrs. Costello lying down a little way under the bed—I went and fetched my mother, she would not come—the prisoner sent mo for a policeman—at that time he had taken her from under the bed, holding her on his knee—I saw some blood coming from her throat.

WILLIAM ROGERS . I am the son of Mrs. Rogers—my mother came to me at a tavern where I was, she spoke to me, and I came across at once to the house—it was about 20 minutes to 9—I went into the prisoner's room, the back parlour—the prisoner had his wife on his knee, with his thumb and fingers closing the wound in her throat—he had the candle in his other hand—I saw the woman's throat was bleeding—I held the candle for him, and then gave the candle into Mrs. Waterfall's hands, and went and fetched the doctor—before I left the room I heard Mrs. Costello say to the prisoner when he had her on his knee, "You know you done it, Bill"—all he said was "Poor girl"—he asked me if there was protection, meaning assistance—I said "Yes"—I took the candle out of his hand and gave it into Mrs. Waterfall's.

EMMA WATERFALL . I am the wife of Robert Waterfall, 153, Bemerton Street, Caledonian Road—I live in the back kitchen; the prisoner used to live over up—on Saturday night, 30th August, a little after 8 o'clock, I heard a scuffling overhead; I took no notice of that—about 10 minutes after that I was going up to the kitchen, I heard somebody say, "The

woman in the back parlour has cut her throat"—I went into the room and saw the prisoner sitting on the bedstead and his wife on his arm, and he had his left hand to her throat—she was resting on his arm, and William Rogers was standing with the candle in his hand—I could not see the woman's throat; I saw her head lying on his arm, and his left hand was to her throat—she looked up into the prisoner's face and said "You did it, Bill, didn't you?"—the prisoner made no reply—I stayed in the room and the prisoner went out—he let her head go off his arm, and she fell on the fender, and he picked her up—my husband said, "Take your hand from her throat," and with that the policeman came in and I came out.

Cross-examined. I did not see a handkerchief in your hand putting it to her throat, I did not see you with anything in your hand—you let her fall on the fender—my husband was in the room, and she looked up in your face and said, "You did it, Bill, didn't you?"

SAMUEL PARISH (Policeman Y 215). On this Saturday night the boy John Rogers came to me, and from what he said to me I went at once to the prisoner's house—I got there at 5 minutes to 9—I went into the back parlour, ground floor—the prisoner was sitting on the bed; the woman was lying on the floor—I saw that her throat was cut—I lifted her up—she said, "My husband has cut my throat"—he said, "She did it herself"—the wife said then, "You did it"—Dr. Slater afterwards came and attended to her—I searched the room, and under the table I found a table knife; it had no blood on it, it was wet—there was another knife on the shelf, there was no blood on it, it was dry—the doctor came, and the woman was taken to the German Hospital—I took the prisoner to the station—he had had a little beer, he was not drunk, he was able to walk to the station—the inspector saw him there.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw you with any handkerchief round your wife's throat—your wife was lying on the floor when I came in—I did not pull your hand from her throat and take the handkerchief from you—I searched you, but found nothing on you—I took you from the room.

ROBERT ROUGH (Police Inspector). On Saturday night, 30th August, the prisoner was at the station—I charged him with cutting his wife's throat with intent to murder her—he was very violent, and although he might have been drinking I should say he was sober—I was not there when he was brought in; he had been there about an hour and a quarter—he was sitting on a seat when I went in, struggling with the constable on reserve—he afterwards got up and struck a constable on the face—it took two constables to restrain him—I cautioned him and read the charge to him—he said, "I did not do it, she did it herself"—his daughter was there, and he called to her in a threatening tone and said, "Don't say anything, don't sign your name to anything"—that was as he was going to the cell.

Cross-examined. You did not say, "Annie, don't sign your name to anything, you don't know what it is"—I did not ask her to sign anything.

Prisoner. They knocked me about as if I was a pig, and for nothing at all; the inspector stood by and saw them do it; I hit the constable in my own defence, he both hit and kicked me.

Witness. There was nothing of that at all; the whole of the violence that was used was to restrain him after striking the constable.

JOHN SLATER . I am a surgeon—on Saturday night, about 9.15, I went to the prisoner's room on the ground floor; he was sitting on the bed, and the woman was sitting by his side on the bed—I found her throat was cut—I asked her how it was done—she replied "My husband did it"—I then turned to him and said "Is that so?"—he made no reply—I bound up the wound—besides that one there was an incised wound on the left hand between the forefinger and the thumb about an inch long and deep—the other wound was about five inches, extending from the centre of the throat a little to the right outwards and downwards to the left—I thought it was a wound that she could not have inflicted herself, it began at the centre of the throat directly downwards, and a little to the right of the windpipe—if she did it herself she must have been lefthanded—I had her sent to the Great Northern Hospital—she had evidently been drinking, and was very hysterical, but knew perfectly well what she was doing—the prisoner was quite sober, but became very violent when I told the constable to take him to the station—I saw two knives in the room, one was quite dry, the on her had got some stuff on it of an oily character—I should think it was a much sharper pointed knife than either of these that inflicted the injury.

Cross-examined. I did not see any handkerchief in your hand when I came in; I saw that your hands were covered with blood.

By the COURT. In my opinion it was utterly impossible that the wound could have been caused by the broken iron lath of a bedstead—I believe she could not have done it herself even if she held the knife in her left hand—I simply dressed the wound and sent her to the hospital—there was a good deal of bleeding.

FRANCIS ALEXANDER STOKES . I am house surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—the prosecutrix was brought there on Saturday night, 30th August, at a quarter to 10—she was suffering from a lacerated wound across the neck, five inches long and about half an inch deep in the deepest part—it was superficial for two and a half inches to the middle line—she also had a lacerated wound between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand—in my opinion she could not have inflicted the wound upon herself unless she was left-handed.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The way I think it was done was because me and my wife were having a row, she wanted to go out, and I pulled the bedstead to the door to keep her from going out; she went to get under the bedstead and I turned the bedstead over on its side. There are two or three iron bars in the beadstead broken at the end and very sharp; it was dark, and I could not see where she had got to. I turned the bedstead back again and found she was under it. I went to lift her up and found she was wet. I left her there and called some one to get a light. I lifted her up and put my handkerchief to her throat and stopped the blood, then they told the boy to go and call a policeman. The doctor was sent for and I was taken in charge. My wife did not speak a word in my presence."

Prisoner's Defence. The inspector has been inquiring about her character. She was cut down twice when she hung herself.

ROBERT ROUGH (Re-examined). I have not been to 2, Johnson Street, to inquire about the prisoner's wife—I found that she had been in the habit of drinking, and that she was charged on two occasions with being drunk, once she was discharged and the other time lined 2s. 6d.—I never

heard that she had attempted suicide—after hearing the prisoner's statement before the Magistrate I went with Sergeant Berry specially to examine the bedstead; the whole of the lathes were intact on the side they were sitting, but on the other side farthest from them, the other end, the lath was broken—that side was close up to the wall—that lath was supported from the rest of the bedstead by a piece of old string to keep it in its place—it was not out of its place—I measured the size of the room, it is 10 feet 6 by 7 feet 6—at the head of the bed there was an old chair, and a small table at the foot of the bed, and if he had pushed the bedstead back as he has stated he did, it would be simply impossible to turn it over, the table would have prevented it—there was only nine inches between the table and the bedstead—there was no trace of blood on the bedstead—I did not trace any on the floor—there was a stain; I could not tell from the colour of it whether it was dirty blood or what—this was a week afterwards—I did not observe any blood.

CHARLES BERRY (Detective Sergeant). I went to the prisoner's room about 10 o'clock on the night of the occurrence; I examined it carefully—I saw five or six stains of blood near the head of the bed, between the head of the bed and the wall, rather more towards the window—the side of the bedstead was about nine inches from the wall; the blood was between the head of the bed and the fireplace—I did not see any anywhere else—I looked under the bedstead and there found this handkerchief with some blood on it, it was lying in a heap just under the bed—the blood was fresh, partly dry and partly wet—there was do appearance of the bed having been taken out of its place—the boxes and tables were thrown about, but the bedstead seemed to have been kept in one position—there were two or three small boxes—I searched the I room but found nothing except the two knives and two pain of acissors.

FRANCIS ALEXANDER STOKES (Re-examined). The wound was not necessarily dangerous—she was not in any actual danger of her life, only in danger of after consequences, erysipelas and so on—I should I not think the wound could have been done by the sharp end of a broken lath—she was ten days in the hospital; the wound was not quite healed when she left.

EMMA COSTELLO (Re-examined). There were no boxes in the room, only a little workbox—the bed was on the bedstead in the corner of the room, right against the wall—I heard the prisoner say that I wanted I to go out, and that he pulled the bedstead to the door to keep me from going out—I don't know whether that took place, I was under the I influence of drink, and so was he—I have got under the bed to keep from him, and he has often pulled the bedstead to the door—I never got any mischief in getting under the bedstead—I have never to my knowledge attempted to commit suicide—I have never been charged with having done it—I never told any one that I had tried to commit I suicide.

CHARLES BERRY (Re-examined). The woman was searched; no weapon or anything was found on her—the window communicated with a small back yard—I searched the yard thoroughly that night and next morning, I and also the adjoining yard, but found nothing—there was some broken glass in the fireplace—I examined all those pieces of glass; there were no

blood stains on them—there was no glass on the floor where the blood was—there was nothing to indicate that that had done it—there was a pricy at the back, I searched that.

JOHN SLATER (Re-examined). It is quite possible that one of the knives produced may have inflicted the wound, but I am of opinion it was a sharper knife—it is quite possible that one of these knives may have inflicted it—if the blood was wiped there would be no stain on it—any sharp instrument used by the hand would inflict such a wound—I think a mere fall on glass could not.

The Prisoner. She is given to drink, and makes rows with ether periods and gets locked up if she gets out. If she speaks the truth, she knows very well she did it herself. I never took up a knife to her in my life, and I have been with her 19 years. I was locked up once for her; she was drunk, and fell on the fireplace one night when I was out, and she went and got a policeman and had me taken, and then didn't appear against me in the morning. I don't see any way in which this could be done except by the bedstead. I wouldn't give her any money, and that was the cause of her doing what she did, if it wasn't done by the turning of the bedstead. I plead guilty to turning the bedstead over, but not to anything else. I swear I never attempted to do anything to her, or to put my hand on her to touch her.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-923
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

Related Material

923. GEORGE LYELL (49) was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the manslaughter of St. Andrew Lyell.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. TATLOCK Defended.

MR. POLAND, after opening the case, with the concurrence of the Court, offered no evidence.


NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1884.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-924
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

924. ERNEST PRICE (19), THOMAS FINLAY (29), and THORNTON PEARSON (18) , Unlawfully conspiring to defraud De Wykeham Chapman, their master.

MR. TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. FULTON defended Peareon.

DE WYKEHAM CHAPMAN . I am a grocer, of 402, Edgware Road—Price was my cashier, and Finlay and Pearson countermen—when a customer purchases the counterman enters the amount in a cheque-book, casts it up, tears the ticket out, and hands it to the customer, who taken it to the cashier at his desk and pays him; the customer then takes the ticket back to the counterman and gives it in exchange for the goods, and the counterman puts it on a little wire file, and at night the grand total of the whole day is written on a slip of paper, and he hands it in with the book and the tickets, and next morning, if the cask is right and corresponds with the grand total of the various books, the tickets are taken no notice of, but put in the waste-paper bag, but if the cash is not correct the tickets can be compared—the cashier only keeps a book in which he puts down the totals of each book for the day—this is the counterfoil check-book kept by Finlay on 26th January; the total is 14l. 15s. 2 3/4 d.—there are erasures on that day; on counterfoil 165 "1s." has been rubbed out with indiarubber, but it is readable; it is in

Finlay's writing, and it is not included in the total of that column—the other erasures that day are "2s." rubbed out on counterfoil 202, "3s" on counterfoil 215, "2s." on counterfoil 258, "4s." on 261, and "3s." on 391 (Examining the figures with a magnifying glass)—they are all visible and all in Finlay's writing—the erasures that day amount to 19s.—on March 15th "1s." is erased on 409 and "2s." on 438—those are in Finlay's writing, and they are not included in the total—on 18th March, on counterfoil 533 "2s." is rubbed out and not accounted for, and in the pence column a 7 has been altered into a 1; that makes 2s. 6d. that day—in Pearson's book of 29th March, on counterfoil 152 "1s." is rubbed out, and on 178 "4s." is rubbed out and "1s." put, and on 182 "3s." is rubbed out; that makes 6s.—on 3rd May in Pearson's book counterfoil 296 is rubbed out, and I cannot see what it has been—on 4-41 "3s. 8 1/2 d." is rubbed out and "8 1/2 d." put in—on 4-67 "3s." is rubbed out—on 4-71 the amount has been rubbed out and "6 1/2 d." put in—on 4-89 "1s. 4d" is rubbed out and "4d." put in—on 4-100 "9s." and something is rubbed out and "6 1/2 d." put in—at 4-20 the amount is rubbed out and "8 1/2 d." put in—the total of that day is 29s.—I have compared the amounts paid in according to the cashier's book with the total in the counterman's book; the amounts have been paid in minus the erasures, and the addition is the same in each column in Pearson's writing—Coulter was an apprentice who generally acted as a checker—it was his duty to carefully compare them and see that everything was in order—here is Pearson's book, but all that purports to be on 7th June is in Price's writing, also a ticket given in with the book—Price had no right to have a book of that kind; it was not necessary because it was only used in serving customers, and Price served no customers that day—it purports to be Pearson's book—Price has entered this in his own book, intending to represent the amount Pearson received that day—that is the only book I have got purporting to be Pearson's—the police have shown me portions of a book which I identify as one given to Pearson to enter his own amounts and to issue his pay-tickets from on 7th June—one or two entries are in Pearson's writing and one or. two in Nardy's, a counterman, which is peculiar—the first communication I had was a letter from the Isle of Wight on 9th June, before which I had no idea that Pearson had destroyed the book—in the book shown me by the police there is an entry of 7s. 1d., but it is torn, and it may have been 7s. 11d.—on Friday night I called Price into my bedroom and said, "Coulter has confessed what you have been doing, stealing the money, he has told me all about it, will you confess?"

By MR. FULTON. Before Coulter made any statement I said that I would forgive him, and I said to Price "I promised to forgive Coulter before he confessed," but I did not say the same to Price—he said "Will you forgive me if I confess?"—I said "No; will you confess without?" he said "Yes, I will."

By MR. TICKELL. He then told me that Finlay was the first that taught him how to do it before Christmas, and he and Finlay used to work it, and take the money before Finlay left—I had discharged Finlay, and that after Finlay had gone he mentioned the matter to Hunt, another counterman, who first refused to have anything to do with it, but did afterwards, and when he had got back the money he had had to pay for being late in the morning he would not have anything more to do with it; that

what Finlay and he took was shared between them, and what Coulter and Pearson took was shared between the three, and that Pearson did not know that Finlay had had anything—10l. was missing one Monday from Saturday's money, and he said that he did not know anything about 10l., but 5l. 10s. was shared between him and Pearson and Coulter; that was on 7th June—Pearson had gone to bed, and I went and got him up, and told him I was going to give him in custody for what he had done; stealing—he said that it was nothing to do with him, he knew nothing about it—I had no conversation with Finlay—I called him down from where he slept, and the policeman took him on the stairs.

Cross-examined. I had six or seven apprentices between January and June—Coulter was the youngest—I do not think he was 16; he was checking clerk, and the most confidence was placed in him—when I began to suspect him I advertised for a clerk to do the work—one came for three or four days, and could not do the work at all, and I put him to the counter—the next came about May—I did not pay the apprentices any wages, but Price was to have 12l. the third year, which had just arrived—I had paid him—he had some medicine, and that was paid for out of it—I think he got 1l. in cash—there are fines for apprentices who waste goods, and unless they come at 8.30 they are fined a halfpenny for every five minutes afterwards—there are fines for five or six other things, varying from a halfpenny to a penny, but they have never paid them; they are kept as a black mark against them—I promised to forgive Coulter, and have not prosecuted him—his friends have not paid me 15l.—I did not say that I was entitled to 35l. in consequence of the indentures not being carried out strictly, but that I would take 15l.—I have said "His father wished to take him away. I said he could not. I was entitled under his indentures to receive 35l., but under the circumstances I would take 15l."—that is true; to part with Coulter and release him from his indentures I required 15l.—I did not want to withdraw the case against Price before the Magistrate—I left it to the solicitor to conduct the case as he pleased, and I believe he did not wish to press it, and asked the Magistrate's leave—I was there, but I am rather deaf—I can hear here, because the Court is quiet—I have been in business at this place eight years—I failed at the end of last year—when a mistake is made it should be scratched through, and the figure written above it—I said that when a mistake is made they should call me or a cashier, and put their initials against it, and here is an instance of it initialled by Price—this scratching out on 95 was by my instructions—the foreman is married, and has 35s. a week and board and lodging—I had then 20 men and boys in my service, and two of the apprentices would be out with a traveller—ever time a boy made a mistake he had to come to me to get it initialled—that was not always carried out, but they put a stroke through, and wrote the other figure—I connived at that, but I think I objected to it at first—whenever there has been a rubbing out in the books I say decidedly that there has been a fraud, because there was no reason for it, and it is new—I know that on June 7th Pearson was serving customers all day, and sold from 4l. to 7l. worth of goods—it would be impossible for him to serve all day and only serve 1l. worth—this 7s. 1d. or 7s. 11d. does not appear in the books at all, only on this piece of paper, which is part of a book produced from the Welsh Harp; it is 7s. 1d., but the other "1" may possibly be torn off—it was the prisoner's duty at the close of the day to hand over the

books—strictly speaking, Pearson would hand his book to Coulter if he was checker then, but often they would just throw them to the cashier's desk—we close on Saturday nights about 12 o'clock, and the books are just laid there—there is no lock-up place to put them in—all Pearson had to do was to lay his book on the desk and go to bed.

Cross-examined by Price. I filed my petition for liquidation in December—you were cashier the whole of the time—I had sums from, you to the amount of 5l. or 6l.—I did not tell you to falsify the books that the receiver might not know you had had the amounts—I did not send my solicitor to you in the House of Detention to withdraw the charge against you—the receiver's man was cashier the whole time and had charge of the whole of the money, and it was accounted for to the receiver—I opened a letter from you to one of my apprentices and read it with him, and a very improper letter it was—the figures erased in the books were not detected, because Coulter was checking clerk and was conspiring with you—the other check clerks did not detect it, because they simply entered up the totals, when it was discovered one of them ran away because he had neglected his duty—you paid for some medicines, and we had 30s. booked against you because your cash was short and you declared you knew nothing about how it was so—as I understand, the 12s. which you took and divided with Hunt was taken on several occasions—that was not done by erasing figures, but by entering 4s. on the counterfoil and 6s. on the pay ticket—this was going on before my liquidation—I can prove that you were cashier on some of these occasions—an apprentice I named John Jones left because he was dishonest—his parents paid me 5l. compensation, and I cancelled his indentures—I did not give him a good reference, I said that he was naturally a good boy, but he had been dishonest through your evil example.

Cross-examined by Finlay. I have frequently on Saturday mornings taken the window man's position outside—he sold joints, and I always took the money to save time—I did not have a book, I put the money in my pocket and gave the change from my pocket.

By MR. FULTON. This is not my cash-book (produced), but it is the cash-book—on 5th April the bottom part of the page is in my writing—here, is 1l. 7s., and there is a lot of dirt on it, but I do not see any rubbing out.

Re-examined. In Price's book there is no entry of 7s. 1d. or 7s. 11d.

GEORGE COULTER . I am 17 years old—I was an apprentice to Mr. Chapman—on 7th June Pearson and I were serving at the counter—we both made entries in Pearson's book, and about tea-time we totalled the book up and it came to about 3l.—we then got another book, and I took I that book away to where I lodged and Pearson served in the second book alone—it came to 2l. 14s., and the book and ticket were given in to Mr. Yates, the clerk, for the day's work, as representing the whole takings for that day—on Sunday, 8th June, we took the first book to the Welsh harp—I had it in my pocket, and we both tore it up—this is it now before me in I small pieces (produced)—I had 1l., Price 1l., and Pearce 1l—the money was paid by the customers to Price and then divided—2l. taken on June 7th was divided between me and Price, Pearce had nothing to do with that—Pearce and I had our photographs taken at the Welsh Harp-Price made another book on June 9th amounting to 1l. 0s. 11 1/2 d—this is it (produced)—he made it instead of the original, which was 2l. 14s—I

got money on other occasions by altering the figures in the book and destroying the book, Pearson and Price assisted me—on 31st May 5l., 10s. was taken by Pearson, Price, and myself—I cannot tell you how many times that occurred—Price told me that he and Pearson were having money and asked me to join—I asked Pearson if he would join and told him what we were doing, and I found that Price had had a conversation with him before I had—he said that he would join in with us and go half.

Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. When the book was torn up the pieces were thrown on the ground by the side of the water—the cover was cut into pieces, here is a piece of it—I went to the Welsh Harp with a police-man a week afterwards, June 14th, and pointed out where the pieces of paper were—we found them there still—on 13th June Mr. Chapman told me that if I would confess he would not prosecute me, and then I made the statement respecting these young men.

Cross-examined by Finlay. I may nave said that I altered the books all round; that I made some alterations in each book, but not all the alterations.

By the JURY. The counterfoils of the cheques were put down the water-closet where we lodged.

FREDERICK JOHN HUNT . I am 29 years old and am in Mr. Chapman's employ—Price asked me in February if I would make a shilling or two with him by rubbing out figures in the book and putting in less amounts—I said that I would have nothing to do with it—he said he had done it before—I had nothing to do with it, but I said to Finlay that I hoped to God he was not working with the cashier—he said "You let me alone, I am all right, they will never find me out"—I spoke to him on several occasions—I have seen Finlay rub out figures in our account books.

Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I was a superior servant and received 30l. a year, including board and lodging—I said before the Magistrate that I thought whether I had robbed Mr. Chapman had nothing to do with the case, and I said "I do not know whether the answer will imperil myself."

Cross-examined by Finlay. I heard Coulter say that he altered the books all round.

STANLEY POTBURY . I shall be 18 in October—early in this year I was apprenticed to Mr. Chapman—I have been out with the prisoners, and one day I fetched Price 30s. from his waistcoat pocket—he lived in a separate house—he did not say where he got it—I noticed that he spent more than usual when I was out with him.

Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I said before the Magistrate "There were 10 apprentices"—I was put on bread and water and cheese by Mr. Chapman, and I was struck by Mr. Chapman, and I ran away—he did not knock me about very much—there were a good many fines for getting late and little things.

CHARLES PAMPLIN . I live at 1, Villiers Road, Willesden—on 7th June I bought articles at Mr. Chapman's shop which came to 7s. 11d.—he gave me a ticket, which I took to Price's desk, paid him, and took the ticket back—it was near mid-day.

Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I got a bill from the book and destroyed it—I have the amount of the things, and when the prisoner called on me on the next Saturday I remembered the articles I purchased.

WILLIAM GILLES (Police Inspector D). On Monday, June 16th, in consequence

of information from Coulter, I went to the Welsh Harp, Hendon, and picked up these torn leaves of a book on the grass, by a wall running by the side of the water—on Friday, 11th July, I went to Mr. Chapman's, and in his presence and Carpenter's I searched Pearson's box and carpet-bag, and found this photograph—it is similar to the one Coulter produced—I also found a waistcoat similar to the one appearing in the photograph, and in the pocket of it was a ticket with 6-34 on it—this is a portion of the counterman's book—I also found a new purse containing four half-crowns.

Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. There is no indication on the photograph that it was taken at the Welsh Harp, or where—it is of both the boys together—I should say that this ticket, 6-34, is part of this book.

JAMES SADLER (Policeman D 141). I took Finlay on 13th June—he was charged at the station with the other two prisoners, and denied it—I accompanied Gilles to the Welsh Harp, and found the book.

JOHN RODD (Policeman D 101). I took Price and Pearson; they denied the charge.

Price and Finlay produced written defences denying any conspiracy, and stating that the charge had been got up to enable Mr. Chapman to meet his creditors, and that Coulter had admitted altering the books all round.

Pearson received a good character.

GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of their receiving no salary and incurring fines. PRICE— Fifteen Month's hard Labour. FINLAY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. PEARSON— six Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th, 1884.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-925
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

925. HENRY FREDERICK CHARLES BAYNHAM , Stealing 10s. 6d., and a further sum of 10s. 6d. received by him on account of William Thomas Harvey, his master.

MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.

WILLIAM THOMAS HARVEY . I am a solicitor practising at Brentford and Uxbridge, and I have an office at 69, Ludgate Hill—the prisoner entered my service as clerk about 18 months ago, when he left Mr. Lane, another solicitor in the town—he was to be at my Brentford office from 10 o'clock in the morning till 1 o'clock at the outside in the afternoon, during which time he was to attend to my business alone—I gave him 10s. a week salary for that—there is not the slightest pretence for saying that he was entitled to a commission on any work I had—I have a client named Band, and one named Styles—on the 1st of July I sent the prisoner I with this letter to Mr. Band: "Please hand bearer 10s. 6d., my fee for defonding Baldry's summons on Thursday last"—I wrote it at the prisoner's dictation, because he said Band would not pay him unless he could show authority from me—I sent the prisoner with that letter to Mr. Band—he did not bring back the 10s. 6d., but told me he had not been able to see I Mr. Band as Mr. Band was out on the drink—I believed that story, and requested him to renew the application—he informed me a second time that Mr. Band was not at home, and that he had not been able to see him—I spoke to the prisoner on four or five other occasions, and he

answered me to the same effect, that he had not been able to see Mr. Band—on 30th July I met Mr. Band's son, he told me something, in consequence of which I went to his house on the 2nd of August—Mr. Baynham, jun., then gave me the letter that has been read, on the bottom of which was written in pencil, in the prisoner's handwriting: "Received July 2nd, 1884, H. Baynham," and underneath, "H. B."—I rendered Mr. Styles some professional services, for which I was entitled to a fee of 10s. 6d.—I told the prisoner on the 3rd or 5th of March to go to Mr. Styles and collect that amount—it was some considerable time, about five months, before Mr. Band's case—he represented that he went to Mr. Styles—he did not come back with the 10s. 6d., but said he had been there and could not get the money—from March to July I several times requested him to see Mr. Styles and get the 10s. 6d.—Mr. Styles spoke to me on the 1st of August, the day before the prisoner was in custody, and in consequence of what he said I made up my mind to give the prisoner in custody, and did so in Brentford Police-court, the day after I found this money had been paid by Mr. Styles—Mr. Styles gave me this document, the whole of which is in the prisoners handwriting. (This was a solicitor's bill, stating that 1l. 17s. 6d. was due from Mr. W. Styles to Mr. Harvey) The bill ought only to be 10s. 6d.—I have never received any of that money—I never received a farthing of the 10s. 6d. due from Mr. Band, nor of the 1l. 7s. 6d.—I did not write this letter, and made no charge for it. (This letter stated that Mr. Styles agreed to let Mr. Woodbridge have judgment, and would pay 1s. 6d. per month, and that the writer was going, to Court that afternoon and would pay money in.) All moneys received by the prisoner were to be paid to me directly he saw me—I visited my Brentford office about three days a week on an average—the defendant is not a qualified solicitor.

Cross-examined. I applied to the Magistrates in their private room, and they wanted me a warrant for his apprehension a few minutes before the Court sat—I had seen the prisoner that morning at my own office—I swear he gave me no particulars about some case I was to appear in in Court and out of which I should make something, nothing of the sort occurred—I did not know until an hour previously for certain that he had received this money from Mr. Band—Mr. Band had met me some few days previously and told me he had paid him something—I did not know whether it referred to this special 10s. 6d., and therefore I asked Mr. Band to show me the receipt—there was more than that account due from Mr. Band to me—I have a running account; with him, but there was only one account in respect of which I had sent the prisoner—when I wrote the letter of 1st July Mr. Band owed me several other amounts besides the 10s. 6d.; the other matters were not completed—in these small cases we make it a rule to get the account in as soon as possible—when I met young Mr. Band two or three days afterwards he said he had paid him some fees—I do not believe he mentioned any sum, he may have done so—I said I would not do anything till I had seen the receipt because I could not believe he had received it—I do not know that I know Airs. Whitman by name, I might know her—there are one or two families in the house where my offices are, they are the prisoner's friends—I do not know that she is the landlady's daughter—I do not think I could tell for certain if the name Whitman is on the door, I think it is, but the door is very dirty—I do not know where Mrs.

Whitman is; I never had any conversation with her—I know Mrs. Such; I suppose she is the landlady of the house where my offices are—I entered into an agreement with Such when I took the offices, and I pay her the rent—I do not know that Mrs. Whitman is her daughter—I know Mr. Perry, a solicitor—I will swear I never paid the prisoner commission on work he brought me—I have given him extra pay sometimes when he has been employed extra time—I swear that on no occasion did I promise to pay commission on work he might bring, nor to pay him a portion of any fees he brought to the office—I promised to pay him something besides the 10s. a week when he was employed beyond his ordinary hours, according to the time he was engaged—sometimes I required his services in the afternoon; sometimes he went to my other offices for me, and I then paid his railway fare and something extra for the time he was employed—he worked for me at Market Place, Brentford, at copying, attending the County Court, getting money out, and issuing summonses, sometimes taking down witnesses' evidence; probably he would Sometimes see clients—if he brought in a client I had never seen before I used my own discretion about accepting him—he may have introduced two or three clients to me, or perhaps more—he may have brought them there or they may have come by themselves—my name is on the door—I found them at my office—the prisoner has never touted for me at my request—he has endeavoured to obtain clients for me, and I have accepted them—I swear I have not promised to give him a certain portion of the fees or profits, and I have never allowed him any special portion—I have given him something sometimes, but not as remuneration for the introduction of clients, that I swear, nor have I promised it to him—I have an indistinct recollection of a case of Bradbury and Newman, a burglary—I will not swear that I did or did not act in that case—I keep a diary—that case no doubt came on at the police-court in the morning and was disposed of at once as far as I was concerned—I believe I was concerned in the case—I will not swear that I attended Court once—I could not tell what fee I got for it—they are paid before I go into Court—it might be two guineas, or one, or a half—I will swear I did not give 25 per cent of it, whatever it was, to the prisoner; I gave him none of it—if he was engaged in the case after hours I might have given him something—the Brentford Justices sit at 11o'clock—I believe I conducted the case on one occasion, and the prisoner had nothing to do with it except to stay by me in Court—I swear I gave him nothing out of my fees—if he brought the man to me and drew the brief I might have given him 2s. or 3s.—I cannot say who received the fees in Bradbury and Newman, it is a long while ago—the prisoner certainly did not deduct a quarter of the fees in that case—I am prepared to swear that I should never have agreed to such a transaction—I will swear the prisoner has not received fees from clients and handed them to me less a commision deducted for himself, at any time—I have not got a diary with me; I have had notice to produce it—the notice alluded to the diary which I produced in Court, and I produced no book in Court on the date you allege—I acted on the advice of the Magistrate—a similar notice was served at Brest-ford—I had the book in Court, but no extracts were read from it—it can be here in five minutes—I swear Mr. Perry did not tell me, with regard to the case of Bradbury and Newman, that Baynham had given him a half-sovereign, and that he (Perry) had returned to Baynham a half-crown

out of it as his commission; or that I said "That is all right, that is my arrangement with the prisoner"—Mr. Styles stated he was introduced by the prisoner—I found Mr. Styles at my office when I got there—Mr. Bond was not introduced to me by the prisoner; he has been a client of mine ever since I have been on the rolls—I did not owe the prisoner a penny, except for his last week's salary, 10s. 6d. which would be due later on on the Saturday on which he was arrested; three hours afterwards that 10s. 6d. would hare been due—I have never paid him that—I said nothing to him about Band's money after I found it out, before he was taken; into custody, because I wad so annoyed with previous occurrences, and he would have been off like a shot—I did not ask him to hand over the money or ask him for any explanation because of my experience of his going on led me to believe he would have formed some experience case, as he had done before—I could have brought other other charges aganist him, but I didn't wish to press the case too hardly—I have discovered others since he war before die Magistrate—I sent a note dated 6th September (This stated that in addition to the charge on which he wood Committed another indictment would be preferred against him for stealing the 10s. 6d. he had received from Mr. Joesph Band)—I had conference with Counsel—I have not indicted the prisoner for any other charged besides these two—I could if I liked without going before the Magistrate—by coming straight to the Grand Jury I could have indicted him for any number of embezzlements; I have not done' it—the Magistrate did not dismiss Mr. Band's case—I asked the Magistrate's Clerk whether they dismissed it or not, and he said No, the case remained for prosecute the indictment here—he would have been committed for trial on that charge as well as for W. styles—I believe the magistrate did not commit that case—nothing leads me to suppose one way or die other they did not go into the case on its merits—they only took my evidence—if Mr. Band had been present, they would have committed also on that charge—he was given into custody upon Band's case—I know the prisoner father by Sight—I never heard he was Very much respected at Isleworth, not that he Was collector for Leyton and Hardy, cool merchant—I never interfered in his domestic affairs—I have a case of fox, an alleged rape; that was not introduced to me by the prisoner—fox I was called at my office—the prisoner came and told the Fox called at my office about some information, and that he had taken some instructions and he communicated them to me—I do not think I have had another case at Brentford Police-court since this young man was charged—I have not been there—I removed toy office when he was discharged—he resided in the house where my house was—I did not card that he should have access to my papers—after he was in custody he was only in prisoner for a day—I locked my room up, but the landlady had the key—that was the sole reason I removed into High Street, where my office is now, and where my name is up—I have not been to Brentford much since the prisoner was locked up; I have been out of town—I will swear I did not take 15 guineas out of the Fox case—I can't tell you how much I took; my diary will not tell me—it is a rough scribbling diary in which is make notes of appointments with people—I have a cash diary, but not here—I have no record of my Brentford business—I keep my accounts of each case on the papers in the case—I may have put down a guinea or two in my personal diary; I don't think I did—the prisoner did not introduce to me a case of

Sugannier—he did not inform me that Sugannier had called at my office which was very conspicuously placed—I don't know whether he introduced the case of Perry, the Uxbridge murder—I don't think he did—I will not swear he did not—I swear he did not introduce a case of Thurston—Holder, a friend of Thurston, brought him to me—I should not think I knew Holder through the prisoner—I don't think the prisoner introduced Mr. Halliday to me; it is very difficult for me to swear he did sot, because I found people at my office continually—I have done several things for Halliday—I see by an entry in my diary that Halliday paid me something on 29th of July—I have known Halliday 12 or 18 months, or more—I don't think the prisoner introduced Bates's case; I am pretty certain about that—from 10 to 12 o'clock the prisoner was in my Brent-ford office, or was out for me—once, about two years ago, I think, he was at Uxbridge for the whole day—he was never the whole day in the Uxbridge office—I have no client named Schubert—I appeared for a Mr. Schubert at Uxbridge County Court a couple of months ago, when the prisoner was in custody—I did not receive a penny from him—I swear he was not introduced to me by the prisoner—I remember going into my office one morning, and finding Schubert sitting down there; I could not swear that was the morning I gave the prisoner into custody—I have no entry—Schubert is a poor man, and I don't know if shall get any money from him—I had this diary before the Justices; I read no extracts from it—I brought it to tell the Magistrates when I had asked the prisoner for the 10s. 6d. in Band's case, to show that I had asked him for is it repeatedly after he had received it—I requested the prisoner on one occasion to call on Mr. Band for the money, and he made an entry in the diary; that was some days after he had received it—the entry is "7th July, See Band"—he wrote that in my presence; that was in respect of this 10s. 6d.—it was not about work which I had going on for Band at that time—I said "Go and see Band about that 10s. 6d.," and he made a note of it—I think I have one or two entries of Perry's case—this is my Brent-ford diary—my suspicion had been aroused in consequence of something else, and I determined to make a note in future of the days I asked him to call.

Re-examined. It is part of a solicitor's clerk's duty to look after his master's interests, and further them as much as he can—Mr. Still was a client of mine, and plaintiff in a County Court action which I conducted for him—I had some of his papers in my possession, without which Still I could not get certain moneys out of Court—I claimed a lien on these papers till he paid money owing to me—I found these papers were missing from my office, and afterwards found that the prisoner had taken I these papers to Mr. Still, and had obtained 1l. 10s. from him—there are other cases against the prisoner—criminal business as a rule is ready money, and I make no entries as far as police-court work is concerned—I only determined to prosecute the prisoner when Mr. Band showed me his receipt—Mr. Lay appeared for the prisoner at the police-court, and Mr. Perry offered to go bail for him and was refused, because he had not any offices in Brentford—I have seen Perry and the prisoner together, and have received complaints that my clerk was always walking about I the town with Mr. Perry in my absence—Mr. Lay has been about Brent-ford longer than I have—the prisoner has never made any claim against me for commission, and neither he nor his friends have ever demanded

the 10s. due to him; I am prepared to pay him that—to prove larceny by a servant you must prove the money has been paid and not received—Mr. Band did not attend to prove the payment, and therefore the Magistrate left it for Mr. Band to attend and give evidence here—this letter referring to Band's case was attached by the Magistrate to the depositions.

JOSEPH BAND . I live at Eichmond—Mr. Harvey acted professionally for our firm—we are parchment and leather manufacturers; he attended for my father at the Brentford Police-court, and my father was indebted to him 10s. 6d.—I met the prisoner in the street; he asked me if Mr. Band was at home—I asked him what he wanted him for, he handed me this letter. (This was the letter requesting payment of 10s. 6d. to the bearer.) In consequence of that letter I gave the prisoner 10s. 6d., and he wrote on this in pencil letters—Mr. Harvey has done work for us for about four Years—there is no suggestion for saying that Baynham introduced Harvey to us—Baynham has been in Brentford longer than Harvey, but I knew Harvey before he was at Brentford.

Cross-examined. I only knew Baynham before as living in Brentford, and as clerk to another solicitor—then Harvey took the office, and we did business with him.

Re-examined. Mr. Lay did business for us, Baynham was his clerk.

WILLIAM STYLES . I am a boatbuilder, of Bails head, Isleworth, and am acquainted with the prisoner—on 5th March he called on me and handed me this bill for 1l. 7s. 8d.; the items were February 25th, 10s. 6d.; March 2nd, 10s. 6d.; March 3rd, 6s. 8d.—I paid him that sum lees 10s. 6d., which I had lent to the prisoner before—I believed 1l. 7s. 8d. was due from me to Mr. Harvey—the prisoner receipted the bill on the top in my presence.

Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner a long time when he was clerk to Mr. Lay—I employed Mr. Harvey is a matter between Mr. Woodbridge and myself, and I instructed Mr. Harvey to attend to this matter at the top of the bill—both these were attended to as far as I know by Mr. Harvey.

Re-examined. I did not get this letter, that was sent to Woodbridge's clerk.

HENRY WARREN (Police Sergeant T 2). I am a warrant officer of the Brentford Police-court—on Saturday, 2nd August, I received a warrant to execute against the prisoner;—the prisoner was in the room; I read the warrant to him, it was for embezzling 10s. 6d.; he made no reply.

Cross-examined. The prisoner came into Court almost directly the warrant was granted, and I arrested him—I had seen him before that, openly about the Court; I had seen him once previously on that very morning—I don't know that I spoke to him then—I have frequently seen him there on Court days—I cannot say if there is touting at Brentford—the prisoner was very active—he was there for years with Mr. Lay, and then I saw him doing the same things with Mr. Harvey—he was in and out of the Court as another clerk might be—his father lives at Isleworth and is a collector.

Re-examined. We have a good deal of work for Petty Sessions at Brentford.

Witness for the Defence.

MRS. WHITMAN. I live in Market Place, Brentford—I am married and am the daughter of Mrs. Such, the landlady of Mr. Harvey's office—I remember the prisoner being engaged by Mr. Harvey, end I saw him after that, he came so often to the office—I saw the prosecutor several times—Mr. Harvey made the arrangement in the presence of me and my mother that he would give him 10s. a week, and 5s. in the pound, and would see how business went on, and then he would give him a stated salary.

Cross-examined. That was thoroughly understood between the prisoner and Mr. Harvey—I believe the prisoner told Mr. Harvey that when he got Mr. Band's money—I have heard the conversation in my office—I don't know what it means about Mr. Band's money, but I have often overheard conversations (we could not help doing so, our kitchen was so near) concerning the fees which used to be paid to the prisoner, and he used to deduct his commission—Mr. Perry was not present at these conversations nor at the engagement—that was not reduced into writing, it was made in our kitchen; Mr. Harvey came into the kitchen with his rent book in his hand—my mother is an invalid and I superintend as landlady—I have known the prisoner for years; he lived with Mr. Lay for seven years at our office—he is not living with us now, he left five or six weeks ago when Mr. Harvey left, and he went home—he is not engaged to my daughter, I have no daughter old enough.

The Jury, without waiting to hear MR. GEOGHEGAN'S reply, or the COMMON SERJEANT'S summing up, returned a verdict of


OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 25th, 1884.

Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

For cases tried this day see Surrey cases.


Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-926
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

926. SEYMOUR HORNTON (22) and AUGUSTUS STANHARD SMITH (17) were indicted for a rape on Edith Billson.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

GUILTY . HORNTON— Eighteen Months' Hard labour. SMITH— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-927
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

927. GEORGE THOMPSON (40) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully attempting to break and enter the dwelling-house of Robert Fielder, with intent to steal.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-928
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

928. JOHN HENRY CANEPE(18) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing three rings and other articles, and 1l. 14s. 6d., the goods and money of Edward Bressey, his master.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-929
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

929. JOHN OSBORNE (20) and WILLIAM SKINNER (27) to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Esther Gardner, and stealing two gold

eardrops and other articles, Osborne haying been convicted in March, 1883, and Skinner** at Stafford, in July, 1883, in the name of William Henry Stringer. OSBORNE— Fifteen Month's Hard Labour. SKINNER— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-930
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

930. FRANCIS TAYLOR (21) and HERBERT TAYLOR (20) to stealing a boiler and a quantity of lead piping, also five taps and some closet fittings, also a lamp pendant and other articles fixed to a building, the property of Cyrus Hallett.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-931
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

931. SAMUEL NELSON (41) , Indecently assaulting Bessie Harold.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.

He received a good character.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-932
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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932. JOHN COOK (29) , Stealing seven ivory tusks, the property of Henry Gray.


THOMAS PEARCE . I am a tallyman at the Albert Docks—on 31st July I delivered some goods from No. 32 shed into the boat Iris, among which were 36 ivory tusks marked "F. T"., I to 36—when I left the boat they were going to put the hatches on.

ISAAC BRUCE . I am a lighterman to Henry Gray, junior—on 31st July I loaded into the Iris 36 ivory tusks marked "F. T.," in gunny bags—I was to take them to the Ophelia for shipment to Hamburg—I finished loading about 4.15, and put on the tarpaulin and the hatch-bars—I Had to be out of dock between 4 and 5 a.m. to catch the tide—I moved the Iris down to the cutting, where there were several other barges belonging to Mr. Gray—I went on to another barge to sleep, leaving the things safe, and returned to her next morning, August 1st—I did not see that anything had been disturbed—I navigated the Iris to the Ophelia, and I got there about 9 a.m.—about 2 o'clock I uncovered the tarpaulin to discharge the cargo, and found that seven elephants' tusks were gone—I communicated with the police.

ROBERT WALFORD . I am a lighterman's apprentice, of Bromley—on the morning of 1st August I was in charge of the barge Fred in the Victoria Docks, and was dozing off to sleep in the cabin—the scuttle was open, and the prisoner tried to shut it—I asked him what he did it for—He said he did not know there was anybody in the cabin or he would not have done so, and asked me for a light for his pipe, which I gave him, and he got into the cabin and lit his pipe—I heard a noise, and asked, him if he would look and see if the oars were safe—he said it was only somebody talking overhead—I was not satisfied, and went up and saw some men remove something—I said to the prisoner, "What is that?"—he said, "It is only a bit of ivory"—I said, "The poor man who is in charge of the barge has got to put up with it, he has to be at the loss of it"—he said, "They have to get a living, he has a wife and family, it belongs to those who can afford it."

Cross-examined. I saw him first three years ago—he is a lighterman—I only know that his name is John by seeing it in the paper; the man on the quay called him Bill—I did not tell the Magistrate what the prisoner said about the man having a wife and family, and that he must do something for a living; I did not think of it—I went to the station because Wright told me to come as he had got the man who took the

horns—I picked the prisoner out in the yard—I saw him go up the street with a policeman, and then went to the station and picked him out.

Re-examined. I had seen him before, and knew him—he lit his pipe in my cabin—there was light enough for me to see his face.

GEORGE WRIGHT (Thames Police Sergeant). On 21st August was with Sergeant France in Spitalfields, and saw the prisoner driving a pony and cart, which Inspector Read stopped—we had received information of the robbery, and a description of a man—there were some ivory tusks in the cart, and I said to the prisoner, "How do you account for these tusks in your cart?"—he said, "A man has given them to me to get rid of?"—I said, "Do you know the man, who he is and what he is?"—he said, "No, not at present, I shall stand to it"—I took him to Wapping Station, and on the way I said, "These tusks with three others were stolen from a barge in the Victoria Docks on the 1st of this month"—he said, "I don't know anything about the other three"—I said, "We are told different, we are told you are the principal one in the robbery, that you sold the other three to a man who has not paid you for them"—he smiled and said, "You seem to know as much as I do"—he was charged at Wapping Station, and made no reply—I found two pieces of I vory in his pocket—several marks on the tusks appear to have been filed out—on the way to the station he said, "I know who has rucked on me," meaning "informed on me," "it is Teddy and Coutts"—I said, "Do you choose to say who they are?"—he said, "Teddy has got the other three; he lives at 5, Green Street, Bethnal Green; Coutts came there with a man and saw the end of it, and offered me 40l. for the lot; they were in his back room upstairs; Jack Demond also offered a century for them"—I have been unable to take the other man.

Cross-examined. I did not tell him that any information he gave would be used against him, because I had no idea of using it against him; but I was told I had better mention it, as it might be brought out in crossexamination—the Magistrate said that I ought to have commended the prisoner, but he afterwards commended me—there is such a place as Green Street, Bethnal Green, and I believe the prisoner told me the truth—Teddy and Coutts are here, I subpœnaed them—the prisoner did not say that he purchased them at an auction—I should not like to swear that he said they were entrusted to him to git rid of—he is a lighterman.

DAVID FRANCIS (Thames Police). I was with Wright when Inspector Reed stopped the prisoner—he said at the station "If there were 40 others in it I shall stand to it myself"—after he was charged at Wapping he said he did not know anything about the other three, but he did about these four; and on the way to the police-court he said if he got out on bail he would do something for Teddy, for if it had not been for him he should have had nothing to do with it—he showed him a catalogue, saying that he bought the things at a sale.

Cross-examined. I have known him about six years by sight, not as a lighterman all that time, I knew him to be a constant associate of thieves and other women—he has not been convicted.

RICHARD COLLIER . I am a marine dealer, of 22, Shadwell Street, Bromley—I lent the prisoner my pony and cart, I don't recollect the date—he said he was going to move his furniture—I went with him to his mother's house in Limehouse, and he brought out something which he said

was ivory—I said "You will get locked up," and I got down—I did not see the ivory—the next thing that I heard was that he was in custody.

HANNAH COOK . I am the prisoner's mother—I remember his bringing some bags to the house and fetching them away with Collier in the pony cart; I don't remember the date, but it was on a Monday.

GUILTY .†— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-933
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

933. RAYMOND STANLEY (38) , Stealing a watch, a chain, and a ring, the goods of George Lockhurst.

MR. ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted.

ELIZA LOCKHURST . I am the wife of George Lockhurst, of 13, Victoria Street, Plaistow—in December last the prisoner and his wife lodged with me—a gold watch, a gold chain, and a gold ring were kept in a drawer in a cash-box in the front parlour downstairs—the door was unlocked—the drawer was locked and the key was in the kitchen work-basket—I missed them on Christmas Eve—on the Sunday the prisoner came downstairs and said something was going to happen—he went out at 1.30 and came back at 4 o'clock, when a telegram came, and my husband went to him in the kitchen—about half an hour afterwards his wife came in, and he made a great to-do and said his brother Sydney was dead—his wife said "I was not aware, dear, you had a brother Sydney"—they continued in the house till the last day of the old year—I said nothing about missing the articles to either of them—they left at a quarter to 8 o'clock, before I was up—I told them five weeks before that' I would not allow them to keep a kitten, but that notice was withdrawn—I next saw the prisoner on 15th August—I gave information to the police—the value of the goods was 5l.

Cross-examined of the Prisoner. At the police-court I said I had a ring on my finger on the Saturday, and I had it—I did not say I had worn it all the week—it was in the same drawer as the watch, but the watch and chain were in the cashbox and the ring was in a paper box; I always kept it there—I saw the watch about a week before.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-934
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

934. ELIZABETH CHAMBERS , Unlawfully concealing the birth of her child.

MR. ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-935
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

935. ELIZA GIBBS (40) and LOUISA DONOVAN (29) , Stealing 100 yards of dress material, the goods of Charles Bates Wanty.

MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.

EDGAR GODDARD . I live at 119, Leytonstone Road—I am assistant to Mr. Charles Wanty, a draper—on 12th August, in consequence of information I received, I followed the prisoners from 119, Leytonstone Road to Henneker Road and Burgess Road, to a stable entrance—I was 50 yards behind—Gibbs had a small bag—I met them at the gateway; Donovan said "What do you want?"—I said "I want to find a constable"—she opened her shawl and said "I have nothing"—I said "As soon as I find a constable we will find the goods"—Donovan hit me on my face—I followed—she picked up a large stone and said she would knock my b—eyes out—she hit me on my mouth and caused blood to issue—two men took Donovan till a constable arrived—this dress material belongs

to Charles Wanty—the goods were outside the shop five minutes before they were stolen.

THOMAS FARRELL . I am cashier to Mr. Wanty—these goods were hanging outside the shop; the prisoners were looking at the dress material—I was called in and stayed a few minutes—when I came out the things were missing—I saw Donovan and Gibbs turning the corner, Donovan with a parcel in a white apron; they turned into Henneker Road—I gave information.

MARY ANN SARGENT . I live at Stratford—I saw the prisoners about 6 p.m. on 12th August going into my gateway, Donovan had a large apron, Gibbs was behind—they went into the doorway of the stable and left a bundle and came out directly without it—I went into the stable and found these materials—I saw Mr. Goddard trying to stop them, but they went by him.

EDWARD ASHDOWN (Policeman K 505). I was on duty about 6.15 on 12th August—from information I received I went to Burgess Road, saw the prisoners, and told them I should take them for stealing outside a shop—Gibbs made no remark; Donovan said she went into the stable for a purpose—I examined the bag which they had and found these two purses and two pawn tickets—the property was tied up in this apron.

LUCY BIRD . I am female searcher at West Ham—on 12th August I searched Gibbs—I found a purse in her dress pocket, a bag, and this apron in the bag—I found nothing on Donovan.


GIBBS then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in the name of Elizabeth Taylor at Newington in January, 1884, and DONOVAN to a conviction of felony at Newington in March, 1880, in the name of Margaret Jones.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each , DONOVAN to complete her previous sentence first.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-936
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

936. GEORGE MOSS (40) , Stealing ten sheaves of wheat, the goods of John Allison.

MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.

WILLIAM MARRIOTT (Policeman K 527). On 18th July, about 9.50p.m., I was on duty in Fenn's Piece Road, Barking, near the prosecutor's oat field—I saw two men putting oats into sacks—the oats were standing in shocks—I and another constable went into the field; the men ran away and we chased them—they left the sacks behind—I ran after Moss about 500 yards and caught him; he said "Oh, sir, let me go, I will give you anything"—I said "No, I shall take you to the station"—I called No. 65 to my aid, and Moss said "Oh, I will give you anything to satisfy you"—the other man escaped.

Cross-examined. I did not walk backwards and forwards over the field with the prisoner—I did not say to the other constable "I saw some sacks lay when I came past here"—the prisoner had no sack upon him when I took him—the two sacks of oats were by themselves.

ARTHUR SPRINGALL (Policeman K 65). I was on duty in Fenn's Piece Road with Marriott—I saw him running after two men—Moss said he would give him anything to release him.

WILLIAM FAICKNEY . I am employed by Mr. John Allison, of Lancastor Gate, who owns this field of oats—the prisoner has worked for a Mr. Lee, whom I sold the crops to—from information I received I went to the police-station on 19th July—the prisoner was then charged—he

said he wished me to forgive him—the oats in the sacks were similar to those in the field.

Cross-examined. I did not examine the field to tee if any oats were missing.


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Chelms-ford in May, 1869.— Three Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-937
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

937. FARLOW WILLIAM GREEN (22) , Feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 5l. 4s., with intent to defraud.

MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.

MARY JANE BATCHELOR . I am a widow, of 6, Grove Road, Ealing—my husband, who was a painter, insured his life in the Liverpool Protective Insurance and Burial Society—he died in July this year, and I then applied to the London head office of the Society, and sent this certificate of death (produced), according to the rules—I was entitled to receive 5l. 11s.—this is my husband's policy (produced)—I sent it with the certificate—I never received any money—this "M. J. Batchelor "is not my signature, nor did I authorise any one to sign it.

Cross-examined. Mr. Richardson, the collector, sent the notification of death for me—he is the agent who introduced us to the Society—he lives in our neighbourhood—I never saw the prisoner, but I went to the office on 11th August.

Re-examined. After going There I did not write, I communicated with the collector.

JAMES MOLLOY . I am president of this Society—the prisoner was manager of the London district—it was-his duty to collect the sums from the various collectors, enter them in a weekly balance sheet, and transmit them to the office in Liverpool—it was his duty to pay claims to the relatives of persons insured in the society, and obtain receipts from them and enter their names, and send the balance sheet to me at the head office with the certificate of death and the policy—I received this certificate of Batchelor's death in the ordinary course, and this balance sheet (produced), in which here is entered "Claim paid Batchelor, 5l. 4s."—I received this receipt for 6l. 4s.—in consequence of a communication from Richardson, a collector, two members of the committee came to London and saw the prisoner—I afterwards came up and saw him, and asked him if it was true that the receipt was a forgery—I had it with me—he said "Unfortunately, it is a forgery"—I asked him if there were any more of a similar nature—he said that there were two other cases—that in one case 2l. 10s. should have been paid, and only 1l. 10s. was paid, and 1l. in another case—this (produced) is the receipt of the person insuring for 2l. 10s.—he ultimately made up this list and handed to me, and said that he had received these moneys from the several collectors which he could not account for—I put a number of documents into his hands, but he gave me no explanation.

Cross-examined. I drew his attention specifically to the charge of Batchelor, but I said nothing about that before the Magistrate, as acting under our solicitor's advice we brought forward sufficient cases to get a committal, and the others were to follow after—I said "It will be better for you if you make a clean breast of it, as you have given much trouble up to this time," and then he made the statement—he admitted Batchelor's case—the agent sends us the certificate of claim, but the next-of-kin

receives the money, not the man who introduced the business—the prisoner said that he had been spending the Society's money in the payment of agents, but he was not allowed to do so—he was allowed to keep 10l. in hand to pay working expenses—he had two canvassers, who he was authorised to pay, and he said that he had paid other agents—I said "You were not authorised to do that"—I think he said that he was very sorry, he had no intention of defrauding anybody—I do not know whether he did employ other agents to increase the business, he did not give me a list of them—he was paid by commission, and the larger the amount that came in the better his income would be—Joseph Perkins was one of the collectors—I know nothing about these receipts (produced)—they are not entered in the Company's books, and I do not know where they came from.

Re-examined. It was the prisoner's duty to enter on the weekly balance-sheet the names of the collectors he employed and the sums paid to them; it gives a complete account of all he does—it was not his duty to push the business with money which ought to go to an insurer.

THOMAS EVANS . I am one of the committee of management of the Liverpool Insurance Society—I came to London with another member and saw the prisoner about July 10th—I did not say that it would be better for him to make a clean breast of it—I told him I had seen Mr. Cruse, and was surprised to find that he had not been in the employ of the Society since last Christmas—he said "Mr. Cruse is a liar"—I said "It is very strange, he is most positive that he has never received any money since Christmas"—he repeated the word liar three or four times—I told him I did not know why Mr. Cruse should tell an untruth, and he had better invite him to meet us the following morning, July 12th, at 11 o'clock—next day I met Cruse and Green and a gentleman who is not here—Green said "It is true that Cruse has not been in the employ, but I have been spending the money in other ways"—I told him he had acted very foolishly, and I would not be in his position for 20,000l.—he asked me to make an application to the committee to be lenient—I had come to town to investigate a death claim for 2l.—told him it was correct, and to see that he paid the poor woman at once, as she had had to get some one to be security for the money for the burial of her sister—he said he would go that day and pay the committee, and I left for Liver-pool within au hour—on 31st July I came to London with Mr. Lawrenson, in consequence of the death claim of 9l. not having been paid—I saw Green, and made an appointment for the next day, when we were with him a short time—I said that on the previous night I had seen Portman, one of our former collectors, who I believed was indebted to the Society 6l. or 7l., and who said that he did not owe anything during the last 12 months—Green said that it was a lie—I told him to write to Mr. Portman to meet us next morning, August 2nd, but we met on the Friday—Mr. Portman came, and I challenged Green before him with regard to the money—Portman turned to Green and said "How dare you say I owe you money "I don't owe you a penny; I paid you, and you said it was correct"—Green said it was so, and Portman left—I did not speak to the prisoner particularly about Mrs. Batchelor's claim—these 24 weekly receipts for six months (produced) purport to be signed by Mr. Cruse, who had been a canvassing agent—there is a special heading on them for canvasser's salary, and these always appear on them, "H. J. Cruse, 1l. or

1l. 10s."—those were the sums which I mentioned to the prisoner when he said "It is a lie."

Cross-examined. He never showed me these receipts (produced)—I do not know how they came into the possession of the police—he did not mention the names of Perkins or Geddes—I asked for the addresses of some names he gave me, and I went to Williams—I cannot say whether they are here, but one was a fictitious name.

EDWARD LAURENSON . I am one of the committee of management of this Society—on 30th July I came to London with Mr. Evans, and saw the prisoner on August 1—I showed him this bundle of 14 receipts of Mr. Cruse for special salary from week to week, from 1l. to 1l. 10s., and told him I had seen Mr. Cruse and shown him the receipts, and he said that he had not signed one of them—he said "I may as well tell the truth, they are not Mr. Cruse's"—I said "Whose are they?"—he said "They are mine."

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have spent the money to their agents in procuring new business for the Society."

JAMES MOLLOY (Re-examined by the Prisoner). Since January, 1884, I never paid any money to those agents whose books are numbered 6, 13, 18, 23, 27, 32, 35, 44, and 45, and I know no way in which all those numbers could have been paid for except through the canvassers—I cannot say whether we received 23l. 10s. 10 1/2 d. which we never paid a penny commission for—I presume the people who made the business received 25 per cent, for it, they would be entitled to it—they are allowed the first 13 payments—this does not go into the special account—each collector might have received that for 13 weeks—we ought to have received that 23l.—if Mr. Cruse received that money the premiums ought to have been paid to the Society week by week—I found the books in Cruse's name worked by yourself when we ought to have been having your services in another direction.

By MR. PURCELL. On the balance-sheet where Mrs. Batchelor is said to have been paid the prisoner states, "Balance in hand 5l. 4s. 7d."

WILLIAM OSBORNE (City Detective). On August 2nd I saw the prisoner in the Minories—I showed him one of Mr. Cruse's receipts in the presence of three gentlemen, and said "These gentlemen inform me that they have seen Mr. Cruse, and that he did not sign this, and that you admitted to them that you forged it"—he said "Yes"—I said "I shall arrest you"—he appealed to Mr. Molloy, and said "For the sake of my wife and family don't do it; give me time, and I will make it up; why don't you take me into the district of the Minories?"—I said "The offence was committed here."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A letter was found in your pocket-book stamped for the post, directed to Mr. Schofield, not to Mr. Richardson.

MARY JANE BATCHELOR . I heard last week that you were coming down to pay me—you did not write to me; it was through the agent. At MR. FULTON'S request the prisoner made his own defence, and said: "I agreed to pay her 5l. 4s. on August 4th, and if I had not been arrested I could have paid it. There is an error in the claim; the age is incorrect. I had paid too much I should have had a letter from the Society, so I sent the receipt to the office. I had no intention to defraud. I made an appointment to go on Tuesday and pay it."

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-938
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

938. JOHN BLANKIN (40) , Stealing a basket and half a peck of greengages of Charles Fennell.

MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted; MR. WILMOT Defended.

CHARLES FENNELL . I am a fruiterer in Stratford Market—I had some green gages on August 7th, and went to the gate, stopped the prisoner's cart, and gave him in charge for stealing a basket of greengages—he said he had paid for them—I said "You have known my wife many years; I had sooner give you 5s. than have any bother."

Cross-examined. The price of them was 3s. 6d.—I was serving—the prisoner keeps a greengrocer's shop—he has dealt with me, and I found him upright.

JOHN CLARK . I am Mr. Fennell's salesman—on 7th August, at 6.80 a.m., I was serving a customer, and saw the prisoner come across the road, go into the warehouse, come out with a basket of greengages, and carry them to his cart—I told my master—the prisoner paid me nothing for them—I was a dozen yards off—he never spoke—I was there when he was arrested—he said "Jack, I paid you for them"—I denied it.

Cross-examined. I was serving two customers outside the warehouse—I was not making entries in my book at the time, nor was it in my hand—I did not see Marriott or Brown there or before the Magistrate—the prisoner said nothing to me about the greengages being too much, but a woman asked me the price about 20 minutes previous, and the prisoner was there at the time—I did not know his name; he has dealt at our stall—no one was present but the men I sold some onions to, and called their attention to it, and said "It's like his impudence to go away with that"—the boy was outside.

By the COURT. I did not say "What are you doing with those green-gages?"—I did not know whether he would pay me—I thought it was impertinent of him to take it away.

JAMES WOODS (Great Eastern Railway Police). On 7th of August, at 7 a.m., I stopped the prisoner, and said "You will have to stop till Mr. Fennell comes"—he said "I have paid for them"—Fennell came, and charged him—I went to the warehouse, where he said he had paid for them once, and would rather pay 5s. than there should be a dispute.

JAMES TUPP (Policeman K 560). The prisoner was handed to me, charged with taking these greengages—he said he had paid for them, and when charged he said he would rather pay for them again than have any dispute—he is a German.

Witnesses for the Defence.

GEORGE MARRIOTT . I am a greengrocer, of Easter Cottage, Plaistow—on August 7th I was in this market, and saw the prisoner there and Jack—I was on the prisoner's left side, and saw him take his purse out with his right hand, and take some money and give it to Jack, who stood by the door—I could not see how much he gave him—he picked up the basket—I had seen him before in the market, and in the street selling fruit—I knew him as a German—soon after I saw him in custody, halfway through the market—I met his wife next day, and asked what was the matter—she said her husband was locked up for a basket of plums—I said "What sort of man is he?"—she said "He is a German," and then I knew who it was—two days after the prisoner stopped me in Barking Road, and asked if I saw him pay for a basket of plums—I said "I saw you pay for one."

Cross-examined. He took out his purse, and I saw him unsnap it; it was a purse and not a bag—I did not see the coins, but I asked Brown what he gate him, and he said 3s. 6d.—that price did not suit me, and I had nothing; to do with it.

WILLIAM BROWN . I am a fruiterer, of Plaistow—on 7th August I was in stratford Market—I deal with Mr. Fennell, and at his warehouse I saw the prisoner, who I knew by sight—he asked me what I thought of the greengages, and said the price was 3s. 6d.—I said they were too dear—he bought them, and gave Jack some money—he placed the plums against his feet, stepped over them, and went to look at some other fruit, came back, picked the basket up, and took it to his cart—I saw a boy standing before the doorway—later on I saw the prisoner in custody, and between 12 and 1 o'clock in the day I heard what he was charged with—I have no interest in the case.

Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner take the money from his waistcoat pocket, I did not take much notice—I could not see now much he paid; it was loose money, I don't think he took it from a purse.


Before Mr. Common serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-939
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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939. ARTHUR DOUGLAS (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a cash-box and 17l. 0s. 4 1/2 d., the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General, haying been before convicted.— Five Years' Penal servitude. And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-940
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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940. HENRY ELLIOT (15) to stealing a watch, chain, and four coins, the goods of Thomas Cluny; also to a conviction of felony in March, 1884, at West Ham. The prisoner's father entered into recognisances in 20l. to bring up the prisoner for judgment if called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-941
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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941. HANNAH WILSON (33) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. HICKS and BUTLER Prosecuted.

ROSE WHALESBY . I am 11 years old, and live at 44, Fox street, Canning Town—on Friday night, 20th June, I saw the prisoner outside Masseys beershop in Fox street—she told me to go and get a loaf of bread at Baldwin's, a shop just across the road—I had not seen the prisoner before—I said "Yes"—she said she would give me a penny if I went, and she gave me a two-shilling piece to pay for it—I went to Baldwin's, asked for the loaf, and put down the two-shilling piece in payment—they refused to serve me—I came out of the shop and could not find the prisoner anywhere—the next time I saw her was in the police-court passage with other women—that was some time afterwards—I picked her out and said that was the woman who gave me the two-shilling piece.

MARY BALDWIN . I am the wife of John Baldwin, a general dealer—about 20th June I remember the little girl coming in for some bread and putting down a two-shilling piece—I gave her the change, 1s. 9d., picked the florin up, and said "This is a bad one, give me my change back," and I gave her the two-shilling piece to take back to the lady—I can't say if this is the two-shilling piece, I did not have time to look at it—I did not see the prisoner.

WILLIAM WHALESBY . I am Rose Whalesby's father—on 20th June she gave me this two-shilling piece—the next morning I took it to the plaistow Police-station.

FREDERICK DICKER (Detective Sergeant K). On Saturday, 21st June, I received this two-shilling piece from William Whalesby at Plaistow Police-station—on 28th July I placed the prisoner among four other women at West Ham Police-court—Rose Whalesby came in and identified her immediately—I then charged the prisoner with uttering to the little girl this two-shilling piece—she made no reply—I had told the little girl to see if she could see the woman who gave her the bad money—she immediately went to the prisoner and touched her.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not place the child right before you, I sent her down the passage by herself.

ADA JANE WATERS . I am eight years old—I live at James Street, Canning Town, with my father—on Saturday night, about half-past 10, in the Barking Road the prisoner came to me and said "Little girl, will you go and get me half a quartern of rum in the Trossachs public-house?"—she gave me a half-crown to pay for it—I went to the Trossach's, asked for half a quartern of rum, and put down the piece of money which the prisoner gave me, and which was like this—the barmaid asked me where I got it from, and I said "The lady outside"—she would not give me the change and would not let me have it again—Mr. Kidd, the landlord, came up and spoke to me, and I pointed him out the person who gave me the money, she was standing outside—when I pointed her out she ran down Alexander Street.

ANNIE PIPER . I am barmaid of the Trossachs, Barking Road—on Saturday night, 19th July about half-past 10 o'clock, the little girl came in for half a quartern of rum and put a two-shilling piece down on the counter—I at once noticed it was a bad one and called Mr. Kidd—the coin was handed to him, and he left the house with the little girl.

GEORGE KIDD . I am landlord of the Trossachs public-house, Barking Road—on Saturday, 19th July, about 10.30 in the evening, my barmaid came and handed me a piece of money—I looked at it, it was bad—I went out of the house and round to the compartment where the little girl was—I talked to her, and from what she told me went outside with her, and she pointed out the prisoner to me—she was standing on a doorstep across the road, and directly I came out with the little girl she got up and went down the street—I went after her, caught her, and took her to the station and charged her—I handed the two-shilling piece to Harry Gollifer, the constable at the station—we had taken another one within half an hour previously; I was burning that when the barmaid brought in the second one to me.

HARRY GOLLIFER (Policeman K 457). At a quarter to 11 on 19th July I was at Plaistow Police-station, when the prisoner was brought in by George Kidd and charged with uttering this counterfeit florin, which Mr. Kidd gave me—I said to the prisoner, "Have you any other money about you?"—she then took off this bag from underneath her apron, and in it there were two shillings, three sixpences, and 9 1/2 d. bronze, all good—I asked her if she had a purse about her, and from her frock pocket she took out this purse and handed it to me—in it I found this tissue-paper—I find that marks on the two-shilling piece correspond with marks on the paper—I can see marks of seven coins on the Paper—I said, "You have had some coins wrapped up in this"—she said, "No, it is what I have had some pennies wrapped up in"—the charge was read over to her; she made no answer.

Cross-examined. You did not tell me you picked up the purse with 1 1/2 d. and the paper in it.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am assistant examiner of coins to Her Majesty's Mint—these two florins are both bad, and from the same mould—this paper is not tissue; the marks on it are those of florins from the size—there is a difference between the size of florins and pennies—bad money is wrapped in tissue-paper generally, and then before it is uttered it is taken out and rubbed on the trousers—these coins are very badly made.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was never down there but once in my life, and that was on the Saturday. I sold the flowers and some little penny lockets."

The prisoner in her defence stated that she worked hard for her living, and never had, a bad two-shilling piece to her knowledge in her life, and that she had picked up the purse with 1 1/2 d. and the paper in it

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.


Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-942
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

942. THOMAS PITT MOWFORTH (56) and ANASTATIA DUGGAN (22) , Feloniously setting fire to a house belonging to the said Thomas Pitt Mowforth, with intent to defraud.


BENJAMIN TINGLEY . I was formerly potman to Mowforth, and live at 25, Chapel Street, Woolwich—Duggan was his barmaid—he kept a house called the Earl of Warwick—I did not sleep on the premises—he slept in the bar-parlour on a chair bedstead, and Duggan upstairs in the first floor bedroom—no one else slept on the premises—on Sunday, 10th August, I got to the premises about 9.15 a.m.—the male prisoner went out at about 10 or 11, I should say, and returned by the 1.25 train, and came home in a cab; he had a large bottle in his hand covered round with brown paper, and he said to Duggan "Did you want anything while I was away?"—she said "Yes, I did; but Mrs. Edwards had port wine instead"—that was the reason why I thought it was cordial—I did not know what he had—a little after 2 he asked me to go to London with a portmanteau—I told him my clothes were not good enough to go to his friends—my clothes happened to be away at the time—I took the portmanteau to the Woolwich Dockyard Station, and saw it labelled by a porter for Cannon Street—Mowforth met me at the Woolwich Dockyard Station, and he went off with the portmanteau—I went again that evening to the Earl of Warwick, a few minutes before 6, and Mowforth got back about 6.15—I left the house for good that night at about 11.30—before leaving I went into the taproom and found it was all right, and the passage on the first floor was also all right—I went into the top floor room to let some dogs out and everything was all right there—at about 3 o'clock in the morning I was called up in consequence of a fire, and on going to the house I saw Mowforth, and Duggan close by his side—he was in the bar, and said "This is rough, Ben"—I said "Yes, it is, sir"—he was dressed and was sober, and Duggan was dressed, but had no

hat on—I cannot swear as to her boots—I went over the house with the fireman afterwards, and went into the top room—in the corner I found the pillow had been partially burnt—it was a piece of wood which I called a pillow, which I used to lie down with in the afternoon—it was lying against the wainscot, and smelt of paraffin—I went into Duggan's room upstairs, and noticed there had been a fire there, and some sacking was saturated with paraffin, and the floor was wet—I went into the club-room and found a lot of paraffin on the ground which was not set light to—the floors and the carpets were saturated with paraffin—I then went into a back empty room on the same floor as the club-room, and found something had set fire there; it was hanging on the line—after Mowforth was taken into custody I went to see him at the House of Detention—he said "I believe you are going against me, Ben"—I said "I do not know anything about it, all I know is taking the portmanteau to the station and seeing you get out of the cab with the bottle, that is all I know"—I was present when this bottle was found by the salvage man (produced)—Mowforth was carrying a similar bottle to that, I should say, but it was covered with brown paper—it was empty when it was found, and smelt of paraffin—Mowforth said it was a small bottle, and I said it was a large one—he asked me if I had heard anybody call him any names, and I told him only what he had told me; that they had called him an "old b——," but I never heard them call him that.

Cross-examined. I have gone out and posted letters, and have done anything that I have been ordered to do as potman—I think it was about the first time I had taken a parcel for the governor—I said my clothes were not good enough because my best clothes were in pawn, and I thought he wanted me to go to his parents or friends; I did not want to go shabby—the people round the house are rather a rough lot; the place used to be very low—I have not been exactly afraid to go home in consequence of the locality; I am not afraid of anything—I do not recollect saying before the Magistrate "I have been rather afraid to go home alone in consequence of the bad characters that threaten all of us in the house"—my depositions were read over to me and I signed them—I said before the Magistrate Mr. Mowforth brought home a bottle of cordial similar to that produced—cordials were not often brought into the house—it is my duty every night to go round and see the place shut up—there are thirteen shutters—there are no gratings in front of the windows, only a cellar flap—there are other houses adjoining on one side—I had only been there four months.

Cross-examined by Duggan. There was carpeting rolled up in ft bundle in your room—it was saturated with paraffin—there was something burnt alongside of that more at the head of your bed.

By MR. WARBURTON. The wooden pillow was scorched and burnt, and the wainscot was burnt—there were no holes in it where it had caught light, according to what I could see—it was in a dark corner.

Re-examined. The back part of the bar was burnt out.

HARRY CRASTER ROBERTS . I am a member of the firm of Brown, Roberts, and Co., auctioneers and surveyors—on the 11th instant I received instructions from the Royal Insurance Company to survey the loss by this fire at the Earl of Warwick—I found five separate and distinct fires, and the bar part of the house actually burnt—I valued the household furniture on the premises at 24l., and the fixtures and bar fittings at 100l., the

stock in the cellars at about 15l.—I have been a values for many years—this is one of the Royal Insurance Company's policies (produced)—no claim has been made on the policy—I put the full value in this case.

CHARLES PODGER . I am a labourer, of 10, Elgin Terrace, Woolwich—on Sunday night, 10th August, I went to 3, St. Martin's Passage, and was in bed in a room upstairs—at about 2 o'clock in the morning a disturbance in the rear of the Earl of Warwick attracted my attentions—after listening for a few minutes I heard the female prisoner say "Come out, Bill, come out"—he said "Go out or I will knock you down"—I listened a few minutes and hoard a rambling noise going on—the voices came from the back yard of the Earl of Warwick—I got up and came downstairs; I thought there was a fight going on—I opened the door leading into the front yard and I saw smoke issuing out or the top back window of the Earl of Warwick, and I heard Mr. Mowforth calling out "Fire"—I went down the passage and discovered a fire in front all alight—Mowforth was throwing parcels out of the side door into St. Martin's passage—the third one struck me on the hip and knocked me against the wall; it was a small portmanteau—he called out "Fire, fire"—there was no one else there—I could not see upstairs; I could only see the bar—Mowforth was fully dressed, bar his hat—I ran immediately for the fire-engine, and returned with a fire-escape—I was away about five minutes—when I came back the two prisoners were at Edwards's, the green-grocer's shop next door—she was fully dressed bar her hat and boots and stookings—they were talking to Mr. Edwards—there were about 200 people there at that time.

Cross-examined. St. Martin's Passage is about six yards from the house, I should guess—a skittle-alley is attached to the passage and courts; there is only one passage, it goes right through—I Know Mowforth by going into his house on several occasions—I do not know whether his name is Thomas or not—I cannot say whether they were biggish parcels that were thrown out—I was too much excited; I was rather frightened—I had my trowsers on—it was very dark.

By the JURY. I knew the voices I heard in the yard, as I had heard Mowforth's voice before—I have known the woman before at the public-house as the barmaid there.

THOMAS REED . I live at 51, Olswell Road, Kennington—on the 10th August I was staying at 62, Warwick Street, Woolwich, four doors from the Earl of Warwick—I was at the public-house in the evening from about 8 till about 11, and I saw the two prisoners there serving in the bar—I was in the yard of 62, Warwick Street—at about 2 o'clock the next morning I heard some one talking rather loud from the direction of the Warwick, and I heard a knocking at some door—I then went to the street door of No. 62, and saw some young man run away—I did not see him return with the fire-escape—I went to the Warwick; I noticed nothing—all was shut up—I went round to the passage, and saw the two prisoners outside the door of the Warwick in the passage—they were fully dressed, but the female prisoner had no boots on, I believe—I went to the door where they were; I there saw a portmanteau and two bags—at that time I could hear the glass inside the house breaking, and then I saw smoke coming out of the back door—I said to Mowforth "The house is on fire"—he pushed me away, and said "I want to have nothing to do with you"—I said "Is there any one in the house that wants

rousing?"—he said "Go away; I tell you I want nothing to do with you"—I did not attempt to go in—the woman was still there—Mr. Edwards came up, and the female prisoner said she wanted a dog that was in the house—Mowforth wanted to go after it, and I said "I would not go after the dog if I were you"—Mr. Edwards got a paraffin oil lamp, and then Mowforth went into the house—I asked to go in with him, and he said "No"—he went in by himself—he returned in two minutes, bringing with him a black bag, which he put down with the others—he did not say anything about the dog, and I heard nothing more about the dog—the bag and portmanteau were put into Edward's shop.

Cross-examined. All the bags were put into Mr. Edwards's shop after the fire—Mowforth went in and brought out another bag—I had been at his house several times—the man I saw running away was four doors off—I did not know at the time who he was; I know now—he had only his trousers and shirt on, and I only saw the back of him as he ran for the fire brigade—I believe his name is Podger.

WILLIAM CHATTERTON . I am an engineer of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade at Woolwich—on the morning of 11th August I was called to the fire at the Earl of Warwick by telegram—I got to the house about 2.45—it took me about 23 minutes to get there, and I had to get the engine ready—Mr. By field, who is now ill, had been there with an engine long before—mine was the third engine—when I got there the premises were still on fire—the place is just on four miles from my station—after the fire was put out Mr. Bayfield and I examined the premises—the bar was partly burnt out, and the fixtures severely damaged—the place smelt of paraffin oil—I then examined the passage at the back of the bar, and found it was very much burnt, more so than any other part of the bar—it appeared as if a fire had started there—I still smelt the paraffin oil—I examined the taproom at the back of the bar, and found part of the skirting-board burnt away; the flooring was slightly scorched, and the match-lining was burnt—there was no connection between the three different fires that I have spoken of—that is all that I found on the ground floor—I then went upstairs to the first floor, and in the front room, which is used as a club-room, I found the floor saturated with paraffin oil, which had not been lighted—I then went into the front bedroom, and found a heap of burnt paper close to the head of the bed—there was a piece of carpet lying on the floor, and the flooring was slightly burnt; paraffin was on the carpet and the boarding—it was quite a separate fire—I then went to a back empty room on the same floor, and found a heap of burnt paper nearly in the centre of the room—the flooring was slightly burnt, and was saturated with paraffin oil—that was also a separate fire from all the others—I then examined the passage leading from this room, and found a heap of burnt paper and the floor saturated with oil, it was slightly burnt—I then took Mowforth over the premises with Byfield, and showed him the separate fires and the state of the flooring and paraffin—Byfield asked him in my presence how he could account for the separate fires in his house—he said he could not account for them at all, that he had been away all day and had not come home till late; he said he was sitting in the bar-parlour when he first heard of the fire, and that he rushed upstairs to fetch the barmaid, that he found her in bed, that he dragged her out and brought her downstairs, and that he had got his whiskers

slightly burnt, and the barmaid's shoulder was slightly burnt—he had no whiskers, but was just as he is now—I afterwards saw the barmaid Duggan, and asked her where she was at the time of the fire—she replied, "I was in bed"—Byfield said, "How did you know that the house was on fire?"—she said, "I heard Mr. Mowforth calling from the bottom of the stairs, 'The house is on fire,' "that she jumped out of bed and ran downstairs—she appeared to be fully dressed except her hat—I asked her about her shoulder, and she said it was slightly burnt, but she did not show it—her dress was intact, and she had no burn on it—Mowforth came up and said, "I dragged the barmaid out of bed and brought her downstairs"—she said, 'It is no use asking me any more questions, I know nothing more about it"—there was very little furniture it the front bedroom, and there was no other room furnished except the bar-parlour—the kitchen had a few plates and dishes in it.

Cross-examined. The female did not appear to have been drinking; I had a good look at her—she was not at all excited.

JOHN COLLINGBORNE . I am a member of the Salvage Corps—I was placed in possession of the Earl of Warwick after the fire, on the Monday morning about 7.15—I found this stone jar on the Tuesday among the spirit bottles between the bar and taproom—I picked the jar up and examined it, and it smelt of paraffin—there is gas laid on, but not all over the premises.

Cross-examined. This jar is not broken, but the handle is off.

WILLIAM EDWAEDS . I am a greengrocer, and my shop is next door to the Earl of Warwick—I heard of the fire between a quarter and 20 minutes past 2—I was aroused by some one knocking at the door, and I got up and went out in the street and saw Mowforth and Duggan—he seemed upset, and trying to get her out of the door, and saying she would get burnt if she went in again—I did not see fire but smoke—the parcels and things were put in my place by my consent—none of the things were put there overnight, but at the time of the fire they were put there for safety—the police came and took them away.

Cross-examined. The things were put there about half an hour after I awoke—I am called Bill; the prisoner is never called Bill that I know of; I have known him for the last eight months, I have never heard any one call him Bill.

Re-examined. I have only known Mowforth since he has been at this public-house; I have only known him as a neighbour—I was in bed at the time of the fire.

WILLIAM MORGAN (Police Sergeant R). On the Monday morning, about 10.30,1 went to the Earl of Warwick, and went over the premises and saw the state in which they were—I told Mowforth I should take him into custody for wilfully setting fire to his house, the Earl of Warwick, and he replied, "Lord love you, I know nothing about it"—Duggan was there at that time—she became rather excited, and offered me half-a-crown several times—that was after she was in custody—I shoved it away and told her I should not take it of her—she said, "Take this, go on"—I shoved it away and knocked it out of her hand once, and I gave it back to Mowforth—she then put it into my vest pocket, and I told her I should now use it as evidence against her—I told Mowforth that I was given to understand that he had put some things into Mr. Edwards's shop, and he said he had done so—I left him in custody of my brother

officer, and went to Edwards and received the things immediately after I took the prisoner into custody—I made this list of the things (produced) and have put a list of articles in each bundle (read)—I found an empty album in the house, in a box in the female prisoner's room—I went over the house, but did not search it—I examined the places where the fire was—I searched Mowforth at the station, and he handed me a bundle of papers—there was a policy of insurance amongst them in this envelope (produced), and besides that there was the licence for the house and some receipts and papers—I have one receipt here for gas—in one of the boxes there is a great quantity of paper—I took possession of them—this is one of them (produced)—it is a receipt from the London and Joint stock Discount and Investment Company, Victoria Chambers, Southampton Buildings, Holborn: "Received this 10th day of August of Mr. Mowforth the sum of 10s. on account of loan"—I also found a letter from the distillers of 31st July, 1884—I went into the female prisoner's bedroom, and found the bedclothes partly turned down, and it appeared as if somebody had put their head on the pillow to make it appear as if somebody's head had been there—in the room there were bedclothes, a wash-stand, one or two chairs, and an old dress—a petticoat or a couple of petticoats were hanging up.

Cross-examined. I have been on duty in the neighbourhood of the Earl of Warwick—I do not know anything as to the male prisoners character—I have always been told he has borne a good character—I know nothing against him whatever—the prisoners appeared to me as if they had been drinking—I should say there were some hundreds of letters in the portmanteau and bags.

A policy of insurance effected with the Royal Insurance Company was put in, showing a premium payable of 1l. 1s. 6d., being for the insurance of house-hold goods, linen, wearing apparel, &c, 200l.; trade fixtures and utensils, 200l.; and 200l. on stock-in-trade; such insurance being in force until the 25th March, 1885.

GEORGE BRENCHLEY (Police Sergeant). I took Duggan into custody on the 13th August, in the presence of the other officer, Morgan—the bottle which has been produced was afterwards handed over to me by Collingborne—it smelt very strong of paraffin and was empty.

THOMAS SPICER . I am a porter at the Dockyard Station, and know Mowforth—I saw him at the station between 9.15 and 9.45 on Sunday, 10th August—he went up to London—he returned by the train that gets in at 10 minutes past 1—I told him there would be one leaving Cannon Street at 12.40—I did not see him when he came back—I saw him again in the afternoon at about 4.40—he was there on the platform with the portmanteau, and went up by the 4.40 train to Cannon Street—I labelled the portmanteau for Cannon Street—he returned at 6.10 without anything, and walked away on foot—I have seen the portmanteau outside.

WILLIAM COIL . I am cloak-room clerk at Cannon Street Station, and brought the portmanteau to this Court—the Company would not allow it to be opened until it was brought here—it has been opened and examined by the inspector (produced)—it is a large portmanteau.

HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector). I am in charge of this case—I saw this portmanteau at Cannon Street, and requested it to be brought here and opened in my presence—I have examined the contents of It—it is quite full, and contains clothing and hair-brushes, no woman's clothing;

also some books—the woman was defended by Mr. Edgar at the police-court, and from a statement made to me by her I saw her at the station—after I gave her the caution she would not make a statement—I went again to the House of Detention with her solicitor, and she was again cautioned in his presence—she then made this statement, which was taken down and read over to her, when she signed it: "On the 22nd December, 1883, Mr. Thomas Pitt Mowforth engaged me as barmaid, and I took my residence at the Earl of Warwick public-house, Warwick Street, Wool-wich, of which he was the proprietor. I remained there till the 11th August, when I was taken into custody on a charge of Arson. On Saturday, 9th August, at about 7 o'clock, I saw Mr. Mowforth with a letter in his hand. He said to me, 'This is from the brewers; I have to go there on Monday morning. I know what they intend to do, they are going to take the house from me.' I said 'Why, the collector was only here a few days ago.' He said 'I am not going out of the b——house without a shilling; before the b——rs shall have it I will fire the b——place.' He drank freely all the evening, and about 11 p.m. he said to me' I would do it to-night if I had the stuff.' I said 'What stuff?' He said 'I mean paraffin oil.' I said 'I am sure you would not do such a thing.' He said 'I have not got a shilling in the world; if I could get the insurance money I could have a big house and have you as barmaid.' I went to bed leaving Mowforth in the bar-parlour smoking. The next morning, about 9.15, Mowforth said to me' Hurry the tea, as I want to go to London, I am going to get something.' I said 'What are you going to get? it is Sunday.' He said 'I have got a friend in London who will let me have a gallon of paraffin oil, and that will do for it.' He said 'You need not be frightened, no one will be injured by it or no one burnt.' He said 'I have a friend in London who has fired five or six houses.' He went out and returned about 1 p.m. in a cab, and had with him a stone jar bottle without a handle, and placed it on his bed. We afterwards had dinner together. He then told me that the bottle contained paraffin oil, and that it was 10s. expense that morning, He said 'For God's sake, Rose, don't breath a word to anybody, I do not think I can trust you. I said 'Don't you?' About 4 p.m. he sent the potman with the portmanteau to the Dockyard Station, and Mowforth left immediately after. He returned about 6 p.m. without the portmantean. While Mowforth was away, between 4 and 6 p.m., I examined the bottle and found it contained paraffin oil. The house closed at 11 p.m., and the potman left at 11.40. About 12 I was in the bar parlour and Mowforth said 'The house must come down to-night; if I go to the brewery to-morrow morning they will take the house from me, and if I do it afterwards they will suspect me.' I said 'I thought you said you had other houses in London.' He said 'I have not, I have not a shilling. There will be nobody know anything about it, and you won't tell anybody, will you? for if you do I shall get it for life.' I said 'I don't believe you mean to do it.' He said 'Yes, I do, you had better get your things together,' and I accordingly put my clothes in the Gladstone bag At the same time he packed some of his things in the. bag, and some money and tobacco, etc., and bills and receipts, "after which he packed our things. Mowforth took up the paraffin jar, took the cork out, carried it upstairs, and I followed him and stood on the landing by the club-room, and I saw him sprinkle the floor with it, and he said

'This will bring the b——house down quick.' He went into the other room and sprinkled the floors, and the bottle was put down into the spirit room at the back of the bar. A few minutes after he went into the spirit room and said 'I will start it here at the back of the spirits.' He said 'Give me something to break the jar.' I did not do so. Immediately after a quantity of smoke issued from the room. I opened the door in about a minute, and Mowforth put the luggage, etc., out in the passage. After the fire was out I went to a neighbour's to sleep, and saw Mowforth about 8 o'clock. He said 'It is a bad job, but they won't touch you, it has nothing to do with you.' I said 'I won't be locked up, what have I done?' He said 'Oh, Rose, are you going to round on me?' I kept saying 'I won't be locked up for you or anybody else.' I have been taken into custody and committed for trial. On Monday, the 18th, I was going to the police-court in the prison van and Mowforth said 'Rose, are you going against me?' I said 'I don't know.' He said 'I shall get off to-day, but keep your tongue quiet and say nothing.' (Signed) Anastatia Duggan."

GEORGE RAYNER . I am a cab driver of Woolwich—on Sunday, 10th August, when the train came to the Dockyard station, at about 1.10, Mowforth engaged me and I drove him from the station to the Earl of Warwick—he had with him a stone bottle in brown paper like the one produced—I put him down at the Earl of Warwick and he took the bottle into the house.

JOSEPH GOULD . I am a clerk to the London Joint Stock Loan, Discount, and Investment Company. This is one of our receipts (Read: "Victoria Chambers, Southampton Buildings, Holborn, 6th August, 1884. Received from Mr. Mowforth 10s. on account of loan.") My office 1885. lent him 15l. in May last, and he was paying it off at 10s. a week—he 1886. had paid off 7l. by weekly instalments.

HERBERT HARDING . I am clerk to Day and Noakes, brewers—the Earl of Warwick is their house, and Mowforth has been tenant since the 22nd of December—the rent is 12l. 10s. per quarter, and he had paid his rent up to March last, the June rent being owing at the time of the fire—in addition he owed my firm about 367l. 10s., 220l. of which was secured—my firm wrote him a letter about Friday or Saturday before the fire.

Cross-examined. I do not know that there is any mortgage to cover the unsecured portion—it is almost the invariable rule to have a mortgage.

ADAM MACKARY (Police Inspector). I understand surveying and made these plans (produced); they are accurate to scale.

Cross-examined. The skittle-alley would be about 11 feet broad, and St. Martin's Passage is 4 feet.

MOWFORTH received a good character GUILTY .— Eight Years' penal Servitude.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-943
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

943. FRANCIS MARTIN (18) and GEORGE PIERSE (20) were indicted for the manslaughter of Philip Pain.


After the Jury were charged

MARTIN desired to PLEAD GUILTY, The Jury, on hearing him so state, found a verdict of

GUILTY as tohim.— fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

MR. POLAND offered no evidence against


Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-944
VerdictsNot Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > no evidence

Related Material

944. JULIA CHEESEMAN (22), ELIZABETH GILLEY (22), JOHN PARKER (30), and JOHN WANNOP (28) (together with Christopher Wannop, not in custody), For unlawfully inflicting grievous bodily harm on William Slade.

MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. LILLET defended Parker, and MR. TICKELL defended Wannop.

WILLIAM SLADE . I am a corporal in the Royal Artillery—on 15th July, about 10 minutes past 12 o'clock, midnight, I was turning the comer of Waterloo Place, New Gross, and saw the two female prisoners together—Cheeseman asked me to accompany her down Waterloo Place—I went with her down the passage leading to Charles Street—she asked me for and I gave her a shilling—Gilley then came up, and Cheeseman asked for another shilling, and on my refusing to give it I was struck on the head by Gilley, I believe, by something hard; I don't know whether it was a stone, but it cut my head—they both then ran away—I followed, as that was my nearest way into Dudley Street—when I got to the top of the passage leading to Waterloo Place I was surrounded by five or six men and another female—I was struck by, I believe, Parker in the face, I cannot swear to the man, I believe it was him—I was knocked against the wall by two or three of them, struck in the face several times, and thrown on the ground by somebody from behind; and when on the ground I was kicked on the head and about the shoulders, and the left side of my jaw was fractured—I got up again and closed with a man taller than either of the male prisoners, who had struck me in the eye—I lost a good deal of blood and was insensible when on the ground, but I came to my senses and got up and fought with this other man—then a police constable appeared on the scene and the whole lot ran away—a person living close by gave me a basin of water and I went straight home—next day, 16th July, I went to the hospital and have been there ever since—I believe I have recovered now, but am an inpatient—I was not wearing my soldier's belt at the time, but this one, which had 12s. 6d. in a kind of pocket from which I took the shilling.

Cross-examined by Cheeseman. I did not seize you by the neck after and ask for my shilling back and say I would knock it out of you if you did not give it back—you did not scream "Murder" then—I did nothing at that time for you to scream—Gilley did not then come running down and ask what was amiss, she came close behind me with a man when I first went down with you—I never lifted a hand against her—a crowd of people did not come and say it was a shame for me to hit two girls.

Cross-examined by Gilley. You did not come and ask what was the matter—I did not strike either of you—you did not fall down in my presence—I did not kick you.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLET. This was about 12.10 o'clock—I had been walking from Woolwich to New Cross—I went to the Dewdrop after I got home—I had been abroad 10 years—I remained in the public-house about 20 minutes with my nephew Bassom—I left him at the Dewdrop about a quarter to 12 o'clock—I had a pint of ale—I had left Woolwich about 8.30 p.m.—I met a cousin and had a drink with him at Greenwich—I did not say that I had had a little too much to drink and that I would give them some more to-morrow night—I don't remember saying so—

I did not first strike the man that struck me—I did not say the man was taller than myself—we closed and had two or three rounds—I was struck first by one of the females—I did not strike the taller man first—I could not say how many rounds we had; I got the worst of it—I may have told him that I would come another night and have my revenge or something to that effect, I don't remember—a constable was sent for, and arrived on the scene—I did not know my jaw was broken at the time—the constable asked me whether I was much hurt; I told him my head was cut, and that I was hurt; my jaw was swollen up so much I could scarcely speak—I did not complain to him of my jaw—I said that if I had fair play I could pay them all off one at a time—I did not hear the females scream, they may have done so; I was too much interested in looking after myself—I deny positively that I tried to get my shilling back.

Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. This alley is at the back of the Lads of the Village public-house—I do not know that the landlord put his head out of window and said he would throw a pail of water over us—I only noticed the other female coming down—nobody spoke to me—we did not move to another spot—Gilley came down with another man, following me and Cheeseman—neither of the women screamed murder while we were there—I did not hear them scream; they could not have done so without my hearing them—I don't know where the man went to, he was not present at the time—he did not go away because I was beating the women; I did not beat them—I never touched them—one of them did not call out, "Mind his belt," nor "He is killing me," not in the alley; they might have shouted out plenty of things I could not hear—I met the crowd at the top of the passage leading from Waterloo Place—I followed the girls to the top of the passage, and there got struck by the crowd—I cannot say how there happened to be a crowd there—I will swear I did not hear the girls shriek murder and for help before I saw the crowd—I did not hear the tall man say when I got to the top of the passage that it was a shame for me to beat the two women—I did not upon that challenge him to fight and strike him in the face—I don't know Christopher Wannop; I had a fight with one man for some time.

Re-examined. This fight was after I had been down and kicked and injured, and got up again.

ROBERT BROWN . I live at 5, Waterloo Place, New Cross—I am a gasfitter and plumber by trade, working for my father—on the morning of 15th July, about half-past 12, I was coming from Waterloo Place—I saw a gang of men; I identify Parker and the two Wannops, standing at the top of the alley leading from Waterloo Place into Charles Street—I passed right close to them—I have known them by sight a long while—I looked into their faces—I stopped at the corner of my shop—I went and opened my side door—I saw the soldier (Slade) come down with Cheese-man about three or four yards behind, and Gilley was with a tall young man—as the tall young man was passing Parker he looked at Parker and said "Good night, Jack"—he replied "Good night, my Johnny"—I am quite sure of Parker—the soldier and Cheeseman went down the alley, and afterwards Gilley and the other went down the alley—the men who were waiting at the entrance looked down the alley, and then the gang separated—the gang consisted of about seven—Parker and another man went up Waterloo Place—about five or ten minutes afterwards I heard screams—I heard a rumbling, tumbling sort of noise in the passage—as

the soldier came up and the two women, three or four men came up—I identify Wannop, his brother, and Parker—as the three men fixed him against the wall, they threw him violently on the pavement, and the women were holloaing out "Kill him, kick him; his belt, his belt"—one of them said "He has killed me"—one of them put his arm round the other's neck, and went down towards the alley—the soldier got up and tried to fight with the men—I followed down and got as close as I could—I saw him fight three rounds with Christopher Wannop; at the last round he was going to throw Christopher Wannop, and these two men gate him a slight push from behind—at the second round the soldier was getting helpless, Christopher "Wannop got hold of his left hand and punched him till he fell—he got up and was knocked down again by Christopher Wannop—I went to pick him up, and a man named Jack Lee came up and called them a lot of cowards; the consequence was they went for him—they went down the street towards the bottom of Waterloo Place—I found the soldier was bleeding from a hole at the back of the head—I advised him to go home—he was not wearing any outside soldier's belt, only the inside one where he had his money.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I was sitting on my doorstep smoking my pipe at first, and then I went and sat on the stairs inside my side door—it was about ten minutes before they came fighting up the alley—I had not heard cries of murder and police or "He is killing me; "I heard the women halloa "Kill him, kick him, his belt"—I did not hear "Murder" and "Police"—I did not go for the police—I did not see any kicking when he was thrown—I picked him up, stood him against the fence, and left him with some women who came out of the houses.

Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I do not remember saying before the Magistrate "I heard screams and halloaing in the passage"—my deposition was read over to me, and I signed it as correct—I did not hear it in the passage—after the men parted at the top of the passage, about seven of them went down Waterloo Place, and Parker and another man went towards New Cross.

JAMES BASSOM . The prosecutor is my uncle—I live at 46, Donglas Street, Deptford, and am a labourer—on 15th July, about a quarter-past 1, I was going down Waterloo Place on my wav home; I saw my uncle there and a crowd of people—I saw him Knocked to the ground, and while he was on the ground I saw the two female prisoners kicking him about the head, and the two male prisoners kicking him about the boly—I knew them all before by sight—I picked my uncle up; his head was all pouring with blood—he said "Halloa, Jim, they are killing me"—a man named Lee came up while the prisoners were there; he said it was a shame knocking the man about like that—I got my uncle home.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLET. I had been in his company that evening when he first came home; I left him in Greenwich Road outside a public-house—we had not been together in the Dewdrop; he had—when I found him in Waterloo Place he was sensible—I saw the two male prisoners there at the time—I had seen Parker before lots of times knocking about New Cross—there was a lamp at the bottom of the street about 20 yards off—I am not mistaken about the persona I saw there—the police took another man in custody in consequence of my formation—I was told he was there, but when I got to the Court I could not recognise him.

Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I live in the same house with the prosecutor

—I did not see Christopher Wannop do anything; what I saw was after the affair was concluded—I saw the two male prisoners kicking my uncle about the body, I should not like to have had such kicks—I was told that a man named Wall was the man that kicked him, and I told the police so.

JAMES MAYNARD (Policeman R R 14). Shortly after 1 in the morning of 15th July I was called to Waterloo Place—I saw Slade with his head cut and his face swollen; some people were washing his head—he put on his cap and went home—he said he could pay them all one at a time—at that time none of the prisoners were there—I saw Bassom there—he and another man went home with Slade.

THOMAS FRANCIS (Police Sergeant R). About 10 on 16th July I wag with Inspector Phillips in New Cross Road, near Waterloo Place, and met the two female prisoners—I told them I should arrest them for being concerned with some others in violently assaulting a soldier on the night of the 15th—Cheeseman an said "He asked me to go down here with him"—Gilley said "He struck me"—on the 17th I arrested Parker—I told him the charge—he asked if I had a warrant—I said "No"—he was placed with a number of others in the station yard, and Bassom picked him out—when he was in the dock being charged he pointed to Christopher Wannop and said "It was a fair stand-up fight between the soldier and this man"—Christopher was then in custody—he was bailed and has since absconded from his bail.

Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I know John Wannop, I believe he is an instructor in athletics, and has classes at Greenwich College and other places—as far as I know he has borne the character of a quiet peaceable man.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. Bassom said at the station that he saw the women kick the soldier on the jaw, and he believed broke his jaw—at the police-court next day he said he did not think they had hurt him, and Inspector Phillips told the Magistrate that if he had made that statement the night previous he should not have taken the women.

JAMES MAYNARD (Re-examined). When I saw the prosecutor I asked him whether he was hurt—he said nothing about his jaw being broken; he only pointed to his head as being hurt—he did not say he had been fighting and been knocked down—his face was swollen—I could not tell whether his jaw was broken or not.

FREDERICK FORD (Policeman). On 17th July I arrested John Wannop—I told him it was for being concerned with others in assaulting a soldier—he said "I never struck a soldier in all my life, all I did was to pick him up when he fell down; they had a fair fight."

Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I have known him about five years—he has always borne the character of a quiet, peaceable man.

HAROLD FLANAGAN . I am a surgeon in the Army Medical Department—on 16th July in the morning at the Herbert Hospital I saw the prosecutor—he had his jaw broken on the left side—his head was very much swollen, he had a black eye and a few bruises on his leg not very important, and a cut on his head—he is still an inmate of the hospital—I think the fracture of the jaw was produced by a blow; I could not say positively.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. I think it was more probably fractured by one blow—a fight might account for the black eye—I did not

notice any bruises about his body; he did not complain of any—there were no signs of any kicking—the cuts on the head were not very severe. Cheeseman's Defence. The soldier gave me a shilling and then wanted it back. I would not give it him and he got hold of my throat and said he would jump it out of me. I screamed and Gilley came and asked what was the matter. He said. he would serve her the same, and he began to kick her and took off his belt; a crowd of people came up and we went away and I Knew he more about it till I was taken into custody.

Gilley's defence. I heard, screams and went down to see what was the matter. He knocked me down, took off his belt, and hit and kicked me. I got up and went to the top of the alley and don't know what more took place.

MR. TICKELL called the following witness for the defence:

GEORGE BROWN . I am landlord of the Lads of the Village public-house, at New Cross—the back part of my house abuts on this passage—on this night I heard a noise and dogs barking—I opened my window and saw the soldier and a female in the passage—I said "If you don't go from there I will put a pail of water on to you"—they left, and I went into my bedroom again to finish counting up my money—I had just finished when I heard a woman scream murder and police—I opened my window and looked out and saw Gilley running up the alley and the soldier and a civilian after her; the soldier caught her by the throat struck her with his fist and knocked her down, and the civilian was kicking her while she was on the ground—a young man came from the Waterloo Place end of the alley and said something to the soldier and the soldier struck him—the girl got up and scrambled away crying "Murder," while the soldier was alteractering the lad—the soldier ran after her one way and the civilian went another.

Cross-examined. I went to the police-court, but was not called as a witness—I did not run out when I saw this attack by the soldier—I did not go to the girl's assistance—I know Christopher Wannop; I was one of his bail—I have paid the amount of the estreat—I don't know where he has gone—I know John Wannop; I don't know much of Parker—I don't know the two women—they are not customers of my house—I have only had the house seven months—this was the only row I have heard in the alley.

Re-examined. Gilley was the girl I saw in the alley with the soldier—I did not go out because I thought I might get into trouble.

GEORGE FREDERICK SMITH I am an engine fitter, of 5l. Woodpecker Road New Cross—on this night I was in company with John Wannop an Thomas Heal—I had been to a regatta at Greenwich, and on my return I called at the Lads of the Village—the three of us left together—we went down the alley leading into Waterloo Place by the Duke of Somerset—there were two men wrangling, one was the worse for liquor, the other was sober' they were wanting to fight—after standing there in about 10 minutes we heard women's cries of "Murder," coming from the top of the alley—we ran back and saw the soldier challenging Christopher Wannop to fight—he ripped his tunic open at the bottom and struck Christopher Wannop in the eye—with that they started fighting and fought for about 15 or 20 minutes—they had a fair fight—I dare.

say they fought 6 or 7 rounds—the soldier being the bigger closed with Wannop, and Wannop being a wrestler threw him each time—I saw the two women; Cheeseman was standing on the pavement crying—I did not hear them make any complaint—I did not Bee any one but Christopher "Wannop strike the prosecutor—John Wannop did not injure him, he came and picked the soldier up once, and as he did so the soldier said to him "All right, old chap, look after me"—at the end of the round the soldier got up and said he had had too much to drink that night, but he would see him another time and he would then give him more than he had given him—when the fight was over I brushed the soldier down—he asked for his cap; John Wannop had the cap passed to him from some one in the crowd, and he put it on the soldiers head.

Cross-examined. I saw Parker there and John Wannop when Christopher was fighting, and a lot of people round—I was standing on one side of the road and Parker was standing on the opposite side, and the fight was in the middle of the road—I saw nothing that took place before the fighting—I was not examined at the police-court.

By MR. LILLET. I did not see Parker do anything, he took no part in the fight.

Re-examined. I was with John Wannop, when we walked up to see what was the matter, and I came away with him—I was with him the whole of the time.

THOMAS MATTHEW HEAL . I am a hairdresser, in partnership with my brother, at New Cross—on this night I was on my way home through Waterloo Place; I heard screams from women in the alley, about 150 yards off—I went to see what it was, and saw the soldier challenging Christopher Wannop to fight; up came a young man, and the soldier said "Is that you, Jim?" he said "Yes;" the soldier said "Hold my hat, I will fight him," and he made the first blow, Christopher returned it—the fight continued a good 50 minutes—afterwards the soldier said "Well, I am done"—after a few minutes he went up to another man and said "You are the man that fought me"—the chap said for a lark "Yes"—the soldier said "Never mind, I am drunk now, when sober I will give you as much as you have given me"—I did not see anybody else touch him—I did not see John Wannop do anything, barring brushing him down, and putting on his hat; and he said "Take my advice, go home"—the girls were crying—I did not hear them make any complaint.

Cross-examined. I knew John Wannop before, as a customer—I did not know Parker before—I had seen the women walking in the New Cross Road; they are not customers of mine—I was with Wannop and George Smith, we were coming home together—the first thing I saw was the soldier challenging Christopher Wannop to fight—I noticed that the soldier's head was bleeding afterwards.

By MR. LILLEY. Parker was standing on the path looking on—I did not see him do anything.

THOMAS EVANS . I am a tram-car washer, of 2, Abbey Street, Church Street—on this night I was going through the alley—as soon as I turned the corner I heard screams from the two female prisoners; one of them was on the ground, and the soldier was just going to kick her—I said "Can't you do enough with your Lands without using your boot?—he turned round and struck me a blow in the eye and knocked me a down—when I got up they were running up the alley—I ran too—a lot gathered

round, and I saw Parker and Christopher Wannop come down—the soldier was out in the road—he threw off his hat and said he would fight him, and he made a blow at him, and Christopher Wannop returned it—they went down within about 20 yards from the alley and fought for about 20 minutes—at the end of the fight the soldier said "I have had enough now; I have had a little too much to drink to-night, but I will fight you another time and pay you; I am well known about here"—daring all the time neither Parker or John Wannop ever touched the soldier; it was a fair fight between the soldier and Christopher Wannop.

Cross-examined. I did not know these people before, only by sight—I knew Parker by sight, I never spoke to him—I never saw the Wannops before—I was going down the alley alone, going home—I did not see die landlord of the public-house at the window when the soldier was going to kick the woman—he knocked her clean over with his fist, and was going to kick her—she got up and ran up the alley and the soldier after her—I did not go to the police-court, I did not wish to lose my work—I did not know of this charge till Mr. Wannop sent me a sub-poena, or I should not have been here.

NICHOLAS BAKER . I am a labourer—on this night I was in New Cross Road—I heard screams of "Murder" and "Police" coming from women in Waterloo Place—I went towards them and saw the two young women running from the passage crying and the soldier after them—I saw a lot of people running towards them—the soldier chucked his hat down and threw out a challenge that he would fight the beet man in the company—he fought a man that I did not know, but I found him to be Christopher Wannop—they fought for about 20 minutes—in the middle of the fight a young fellow came up, and the soldier said "Is that you, Jim?"—he went to unbutton his tunic, and they fought for about 10 minutes longer—it was a fair stand-up fight—I did not see any one strike the soldier, only Christopher Wannop—neither Parker nor John Wannop interfered in any way—I did not near what the soldier said at the end, I went away—he went away with his nephew.

Cross-examined. I was about 30 yards away when I heard the screams—there was a scene, and a lot of people there when I went up.

FEEDERICK JONES . I am a civil engineer, of 75, Moreton Road, New Cross Road—I was going home a little after half-past 12 o'clock—when I got to the top of Waterloo Place I heard cries of "Murder" and "Police"—I walked down—there was a crowd of some 20 or 30 persons there—I saw the soldier strike Christopher Wannop, he seemed to be challenging them all to fight—they had a fight, I should say, for 15 or 20 minutes"—the soldier got knocked down once or twice—it was a perfectly fair fight as far as I saw—I saw no one else strike him—John Wannop did nothing to him.

Cross-examined. When I first heard the cries I was about 150 yards away, or perhaps 100—I could not see the soldier at that time, not till I walked down the street—I saw just the beginning of the fight with Christopher.

Re-examined. The cries of "Murder" and "Police" were from women and men too, everybody I should fancy.

By MR. LILLEY. I saw Parker there, I did not see him interfere. John Wannop received a good character.


There was another indictment against the prisoners for feloniously wounding the said William Slade, with intent to do grievous bodily harm, upon which MR. POLAND offered no evidence.


Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-945
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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945. AGNES MARY AMELIA TACEY (30) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying John Walker during the life of her husband.— Three Days' Imprisonment. And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-946
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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946. AETHUR WEBB (39) to stealing a watch, the property of Kate Andrews; also to stealing a watch and chain of Theodosia Toulmin.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-947
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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947. THOMAS BATTEY , Stealing a purse and 30l., from the person of Ernest Augustus Mebus.

MR. BEARD Prosecuted.

ERNEST AUGUSTUS MEBUS . I am a chemist, of Glenmore Terrace, High Vale, Greenwich—on 12th August I met the prisoner in a public-house in Greenwich and treated him to drink, I cannot say what time we left—I strolled about the town, and the prisoner followed me into four public-houses and had a drink each time—I left the last public-house about 12.15 and asked him to show me my Way home, as I was a stranger—he took me in the right direction at first arid then turned into a side street which was deserted and put his hands round me, caught hold of my arms, and inserted his hands in my pockets and took my purse, containing a 20l. note and a 10l. note—I saw the money in the purse at 6 o'clock, and every time I touched my pocket the purse was there, but I did not use it because I had some money loose—he got away, and I gave information to the police—I saw him four days after among 10 or 12 others and identified him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not ask you to go and have a drink with me—you did not ask me for a match outside the public-house, you may have inside—I did not go to the Portland and meet two females and say to you "Stand outside while I go in and give them a drink."

Re-examined. Two women spoke to me, but they did hot touch me.

JOHN DONALDSON . I am barman at the Portland Hotel, Greenwich—when Mebus was served the prisoner came in, and Mebus paid for some drink for him—Mebus left first and the prisoner followed.

Cross-examined. I was in the bar from 5 to 12 o'clock—there were not two women with Mebus—I served him, he did not come in a second time.

GEORGE EASTHILL (Policeman R 21). On 12th August, about 11.30, I was on duty by the Three Tuns, Greenwich, and saw Mebus and the prisoner together—I saw them again at 11.40 near the Greenwich theatre—Mebus passed me, and about a minute afterwards the prisoner followed walking in the same direction—at 12.20 I saw the prisoner talking to a female outside the Three Tuns, where I had first seen him and Mebus, but I did not see Mebus again that night.

Cross-examined. I did not go inside to see if Mebus was there, but I saw you outside.

THOMAS FRANCIS (Police Sergeant R). On 14th August, at 7 p.m., I was on duty in Church Street, Greenwich, and saw the prisoner in a beer-house—I thought he answered the description, and told him I should take him on suspicion of robbing a man of 30l/.—he said "Me rob the

man"—I took him to the station, placed him with tea others, and Mebus and Donaldson picked him out.

Prisoner's Defence. They have got me on suspicion. I never touched the man's money. I left him at the corner of Stockwell Street. I know nothing about it.

GUILTY .— four Months' Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-948
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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948. GEORGE WHITE (20) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-949
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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949. SAMUEL KENNEDY (21) to burglary in the dwelling-house and John Pegg, and stealing a quantity of tobacco and 7s., his goods and money, also to a conviction of felony at Woolwich in January, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-950
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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950. ANN KITHER (21) to stealing a gold ring and other articles of John Laycock.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-951
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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951. GEORGE McDOPNOUGH (34) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. HICKS Prosecuted.

GEORGE BLACKLER . I am a plasterer at 33, Paterson Road, Plumstead, I opposite Mrs. Powell's—on 31st August, between 6 and 7 o'clock in the evening, I saw the prisoner with Collins and another man, whose name I don't know, close to Mrs. Powell's shop; when they came to the top of the hill they scattered, and the man that got away went into the public-house five doors away—the prisoner and Collins came up and turned their backs towards the shop, looking straight towards me, and I had a good look at them—just as they got to me the stout man who cot away said, looking across to both of them, "There you are, go on"—Collins directly left, and walked into Mrs. Powell's shop—the prisoner slowly walked up the road—Collins came out, and went up the road past the prisoner—I could not follow them—I called the young man over from the shop—Collins did not speak to the prisoner as he passed him; he was on the same side of the road—Collins was covering me, as he saw I saw there was something doing; he was watching to see if I went about it—directly the other had got a few feet behind McDonough turned and walked a few feet behind him in the same direction—I noticed no movement of his hands—I said something to the young man I had called across, went across to the shop, and Mrs. Powell showed me the 1s.; I put it in my mouth directly, and bent it right up—I gave it back to her—I was taken to the police-station to identify the prisoner; I had pointed him out to Donald Hart, who followed him till he met the detective—I am positive that the prisoner is the man I pointed out to Hart.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say at the station that you were standing with your back to me on the kerb—Collins went past you—I did not see you go into the house where the shilling was tendered.

Re-examined. I saw the prisoner and Collins speaking together just before Collins went into the shop.

ELIZABETH POWELL . I am a widow, living at 94, Paterson Road, Plumstead, where I keep a general shop—on Sunday evening, 31st August, Collins came into my shop, and asked for a pennyworth of acid drops, and gave me 1s., in payment—I rang it—I gave him a sixpence and five pence change; I put the 1s. in a cup with two or three sixpences I had in my till—I did not mix it with any other shillings—Mr. Blacker afterwards

came over—I handed him the shilling; he examined it—I saw him bend it in his mouth; he handed it back to me—I handed it to my son and be went after the men—this is the shilling—my son kept it till he gave it to the policeman—I saw no other man—I did not see the prisoner till at the police-court—I marked the shilling at the police-court.

GEORGE POWELL . I am Mrs. Powell's son—on 31st August Collins came into our shop and asked for some sweets—I did not see the prisoner then—Collins tendered a shilling to my mother—Mr. Blackler came into the shop—my mother looked at the shilling, and Mr. Blackler bent it, and it was given to my brother—we followed Collins up the road on the same side—I saw the prisoner when I got to the top of the road standing with another man—I did not see Collins speak to him, but I saw them standing together with a third man—I was about 10 yards off; not near enough to hear anything said—I don't know whether they spoke or not—after standing together about half a minute Collins went down the road and into Mrs. Rathbone's shop, the other men standing where they were—I followed Collins into Rathbone's shop—I spoke to Miss Rathbone; at that time Collins was on the doorstep—I dare say he could have heard what I said—Miss Rathbone showed me a shilling which I bent with my teeth—I thought it was bad—I gave it to the police sergeant—I followed Collins—the prisoner came down on the other side of the road, and passed us—I followed Collins about half an hour, till I saw a constable; and gave him into custody—we were close to Collins; he could not get away—he did not say anything when given in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you look across the road when we were coming up—you were not with anybody then—when I came out of the shop you looked across—when my brother said to Collins, "There goes one of your pals" you went straight down the street; I followed you—it was afterwards you spoke to Collins and the other man—you were all standing together outside the Prince Alfred—you were not followed directly.

ALICE RATHBONE . I live with my mother, a confectioner and tobacco, at 48, Raglan Road, and am shopwoman to her—on Sunday, 31st August, Collins came in and asked for a bottle of gingerbeer, and put down a shilling in payment—I gave him a sixpence and 5d., in coppers—he was on the doorstep when George Powell came in—I had put the shilling in a small drawer amongst others, but the others shot back and this was in front—when I opened the drawer I found it in the same position—I am certain this coin is the same as he gave me—George Powell asked me what Collins had given me; I showed him the shilling; he bent it in his mouth and kept it—I saw no one with Collins.

DONALD HART . I am a railway clerk, and live at 51, Paterson Road—on Sunday evening, 31st August, Mr. Blackler pointed out three men to me; they were separated—the prisoner and Collins are two of them—they were walking casually about the road, slackening and increasing their pace—I did not see them together at any time nor hear any conversation—two were on one side, and the prisoner was on the other side where I was—when I reached the Raglan Road Collins was on Mrs. Rathbone's doorstep—after they detained Collins and were walking up towards the Prince Alfred, the prisoner came down on the other side of the road—I followed him for an hour or an hour and a half, when I gave him into Morgan's custody—I was following him all over the parish for

an hour or hour and a quarter—he went towards Plumstead Common, tuned into Sandy Hill and into a quiet turning off Pryor Place, from whence there is no outlet, and I waited till he came out—he evidently I knew I was following him because he took a zigzag road, not a direct one; he twice looked back.

Cross-examined. You were by yourself the whole time I followed you, I did not see you speak to anybody—Collins was detained by half a dozen people—when I had seen you previously Collins was going in the same Sanction as you were—I was standing still—you were all throe going in the same direction—I saw you going up the street first of all—I went indoors and got my hat and pipe, and then went up the road.

JOHN GRIFFIN (Policeman M R 26). About 20 minutes past 7 on the night of 31st August I was on duty at Mount Street, Woolwich—Collina was given into my custody by Henry and George Powell for passing a bad shilling to their mother, and also one to Mrs. Rathbone in Raglan Road—I took him to the station, searched him, and found 1s. 6d. in silver and 5d. in bronze, some mixed sweets, apples, knife, and this bath-brick, but no bad money—these two shillings were given me by Henry and George Powell.

WILLIAM MORGAN (Police Sergeant R). About a quarter to 8 on Sunday awning, 31st August, Hart pointed the prisoner out to me—I stopped him; he was coming from the direction of Mrs. Powell's towards Beresford Street—I said, "I shall take you in custody for being concerned with another man already in custody for passing counterfeit coin"—he said, "I know nothing about it, I do not know what you mean"—I repeated the charge to him; he made the same remark again—I said, "I know no more about it than you do, you will have to go to the station"—I took him to the station, and he was placed in the dock with Collins—they were charged with being concerned together in passing these two bad shillings—the prisoner said, "I have never seen him before, I don't know this man"—I did not notice that Collins said anything—the prisoner was searched, and on him were found 6s. 6d. in good silver, 4d. in bronze, and. a melting-ladle in his left-hand coat pocket, a plumber might use that, a pair of scissors, a shaving brush, a toothbrush on which whitening had been used, that would be useful for cleaning plate, two bottles which smelt rather strongly at the time, a knife, a two-foot rule, a file; they were in his right-hand coat pocket—there were a lot of candle grease and other things in his pocket—he had an overcoat, it was in his overcoat pocket I found these things.

Cross-examined. You refused your address.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . Both these shillings are bad and from the same mould—the file, ladle, and other things may or may not have been used for the manufacture of counterfeit coin—there is nothing in the bottles—there is no metal on the file—the whitening may be used for some cleaning purpose—all these articles could and would be used for making base metal except the two-foot rule—this piece of copper might be used for battery connections.

Cross-examined. This is not whitening, it is labelled "Poison," and is sugar of lead.

The prisoner in his defence stated that for the last three month he had been doing odd plumbing jobs about public-houses, and that the tools found on him he used for that purpose, and were in his pocket because he had set

out in walk to Tilbury to look after a job he had heard of, last that, finding he should not reach there in time that night, he turned back, intending to go on the Monday morning by train: he denied ail knowledge of Collins, and asserted his innocence.

Witnesses for the Defence.

JAMES COLLINS (A prisoner). I only spoke to two fellow-workmen who were with me; you had nothing to say to me, and had nothing to do with me.

Cross-examined. I lodged at the Eagle lodging-house, Woolwich, for four months—I can't say I have seen the prisoner there—there is one kitchen—we do not air get our meals at once—I have not seen the prisoner before—I have not seen him in the lodging-house—I do not know that he was there for 14 days, nor that he left on the same day as I did—I never went out; with him—I went into Mrs. Powell's shop on this day and put down a shilling; and into MR. RATHBONE'S shop, and put down another shilling—they were not bad that I knew of.

Evidence in Reply.

LUKE BOLTON . I am deputy of the Eagle lodging-house, Woolwich—Collins stayed there for four months, and the prisoner for a fortnight—there is a common kitchen where they all go when they want their meals—they both left on 31st August, Collins and his wife between 12 and—I don't know when the prisoner left.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have seen you do nothing when you came home but have your meals and go to bed, or go out—I have not seen you have conversation, with anybody.

Re-examined. I am not often in the kitchen, I am upstairs and down.

WILLIAM MORGAN (Re-examined).

MRS. POWELL'S house is only a quarter of a mile from this lodging-house.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-952
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

952. JOHN McDONOUGH was again indicted, with JAMES COLLINS (44) , for unlawfully counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. HICKS and BUTLER Prosecuted.

The evidence of the witnesses in the former case was read over to them by the short-hand writer. They assented. The prisoners further' cross-exminted to the following effect:

GEORGE BLACKLER (by Collins). I was standing inside my fence when you went into Mrs. Powell's stop—I did not know you were passing bad money, but I went into the shop because of the man saying "There you are, go on"—he was just over the fence when he said so—I called the young man across and said "I think them men are passing bad money"—he said "Mother thinks it is good"—I went across, she rung it, and I bent it in my mouth—there were no more shillings in the cup it was in, I am positive of that, because it was all turned out—when you came out you walked up the road, there was nobody with you, you passed McDonough. but did not speak to him.

ELIZABETH POWELL (by Collions). The shilling seemed to be a good one you gave me—I put it in a cup with three or four sixpences—Mrs. Blackler came over and said "You had better examine that money, I think these men are passing bad money, I saw them come out of a Public-house just now"—I examined it—I rang it, thought it was good, handed it to him, and he bent it directly; he gave it back to me, I gave it to my son, who gave it to the constable.

GEORGE POWELL . (by Collins). I was in the parlour when you came

into the shop, putting on my coat—I could not see you in the shop, you were about 20 yards from me when I came out of the shop—the Public-house is 50 or 60 yards off—I could not tell you all die streets I followed you through, you went up Paterson Street and to Mrs. Rathbone's shop—I did not see what you did there, you had just finished the ginger beer as I got to the door—I said to Miss Rathbone's "What money has he given you?" she said "A shilling"—I said "Will you let me look at it? I think it ii bad"—she took it out of a small drawer and said you had pawed that shilling—you were standing on the doorstep, my brother said he would give you into custody for passing the shilling at Mrs. Powell's—I said "Yes, and you will be charged with passing one have to-day"—we followed you and gave you into custody.

ALICE RATHBONE (by Collins). You asked for a bottle of ginger-beer, and gave me a shilling—I did not examine it—I did not know it was bad till the young man bent it—I put it in the front of the drawer, there was other silver there, but not with the shilling—I took it out from the front of the drawer when Powell came in—the money had slipped back when the drawer was opened to put the money in, and then it was put in when the money was at the back—I told the Magistrate I could swear to the shilling.

DONALD HART (by Collins). I did not see you speak to McDonough—you all three went up the road, there was a distance between you.

By the Court. I was about half a mile from Rathbone's shop when I gave the prisoner into custody, and forty yards from him.

WILLIAM MORGAN (by Collins). When I took you in custody you were by yourself.

Collins in his defence stated that he never saw McDonough before he heard some one say "That is one of your pals."

McDonough stated that he had nothing to do with Collions, and had hardly spoken to him, and denied all knowledge of the affair.


COLLINS GUILTY Twelve Months Hard Labour

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-953
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

953. GEORGE DALE (22) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. HICKS, and BUTLER Prosecuted.

SELINA IVY . I am daughter of William Ivy, landlord of the Queen's Arms, Douglas Street, Deptford—about 8.30 on 20th or 21st August I was in the bar when the prisoner came in and asked for a glass of ale—I gave it to him—he tendered half-a-crown in payment—I found it was, bad when I took it in my hand—I said to the prisoner "This is a bad one"—he made no answer—I took it to my aunt; it was afterwards given to my uncle—no one came in with, the prisoner—the prisoner said to us "Let me look at it?"—my aunt said "No," and then handed it to my uncle, who asked he prisoner where he got it from—the prisoner said he took it in his wages On Saturday night at Sydenham—he went out, my uncle followed him, but before doing so he marked the half-crown; this is it—the prisoner then gave a good half-crown out of his trousers Pocket, in payment for the ale—he said nothing when he gave me that—I gave him the change, two shillings and 4 1/2 d.

Cross-examined. I did not go out of the bar to give the half-crown to my aunt, nor out of your sight—she gave it to my uncle who was in the bar parlour and out of you sight—you said you got it at Sydenham, not at West Hill, Oroydon.

WILLIAM IVY . I am landlord of the Queen's Arms, Deptford—on 21st August I was in the lobby adjoining the bar and came to the bar, when my wife handed me a half-crown—I saw the prisoner there; he could hear what was said—my wife said "This is not a good half-crown I believe?"—I said "Certainly not"—she told me where she got it from—I went up to the prisoner and showed him the half-crown and said "This is a bad half-crown"—he said "Don't destroy it, I know where I got it from; give it me back or else I shall be at the loss of it"—I said "No, you will not have this back; you say you know where it came from, you know where you got it, why did you tender it here?"—he said "My master paid it me as portion of my wages"—I asked him how much his master paid him; he told me 30s. or 31s.—I asked him if he had any more like them—he said "No"—I said "Have you spent all the money your master gave you, the 32s?"—he had one more with which he was able to pay for the ale that he had purchased—he asked me over and over again to return the half-crown—I said I should not, that I should send for a policeman, but he pleaded so hard that on second thoughts I thought I would not send for a policeman but follow him, and so I said "If you can prove you gained this in an honest manner, that your master paid it you, I will return you the half-crown, you shall not be a loser by it"—he said could he obtain the half-crown by sending a post-card for it—I said "Certainly not, you had better wrap yourself in an envelope and roll over here for it yourself, but no post-card"—he said he was working at Sydenham I believe, and his master, the contractor, whose name he gave, lived at Croydon—he left; I followed him (I do not think he knew it) about a mile from my house—he first went to the North Kent Station, New Cross, and inquired what time a train was due; I did not hear him inquire, but I inquired—he went into a public-house, the Walpole, where he stopped but a very short time—I followed him on afterwards and eventually gave him into custody at the Brighton New Cross Road Railway—I did not hear what was said between him and the constable; I was taking stock of two men I fancied were in his company—I had spoken to a constable and he followed on and took him—I then charged him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I asked you if you knew it was a bad half-crown—you did not say "Let me look at it," but "Give it to me back, I know where I got it from"—I did not say you must write if you wanted it back again—I held the half-crown in myhand—it was not taken out of your sight, I was in the lobby—you could see me from the bar—my wife was at the farther end of the bar—directly the half-crown was given to her I went to her from the lobby—I said "I shan't give it back. Now you can go"—I understood you inquired about a train to Penge—I don't know what you had at the Walpole—I might have sent a railway porter in there; I told the porter whom I was watching.

WILLIAM EAST (Policeman P 331). On the afternoon of 21st August Mr. Ivy made a statement to me, in consequence of which I stopped the prisoner at Brighton Station, New Cross, and said "I shall take you into custody for attempting to utter a half-crown to Mr. Ivy, Dudley Street, public-house"—he said "All right, my G—, that half-crown my governor gave me on Saturday"—I said "Have you any more about you?"—he said "No"—Mr. Ivy came up—I said "Is that the man?"—he said "Yes, that is the man"—the prisoner was in custody—I took

him to the station, searched him, and found on him 1s. and 6d. in silver, 7d. in bronze, all good, and a pawn ticket and some tobacco—I said What is your name?"—he said "George Pale"—I said "Where do you live?"—he said "3, Granby Place, Lower Marsh, Lambeth," and that he had lived there about three months—I asked the name of the landlord and he said he did not know, he said he paid his rent sometimes to one and sometimes to another—he said his employer was Thomas Mason, who lived at 19, Blackfriars Road—I have been there, it is a shop in the name of Skinner; there are bookbinders and stationers in the house besides—there is such a place as 3, Granby Place, Lower Marsh—the prisoner said his master paid him on the Saturday previous with a sovereign, four half-crowns, and a shilling—he said his master was a tiler and slater—this was the half-crown that Mr. Ivy gave me.

Cross-examined. I have been to your employer.

Re-examined. I made inquiries and found a Mr. Mason in 19, Burle Street, Blackfriare—I gave him a description of the prisoner; he thought he knew him by the name of Micky—he had no man working under him of the name of George Dale—he was required to attend here and refused.

JAMES WOODCRAFT . I live at 3, Granby Place, Lower Marsh, Lambeth—I do not let lodgings; the prisoner did not lodge with me—there are two 3 Granby Gardens and one 3, Granby Place.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This coin is a bad one.

The prisoner in hit defence stated that the coin was given him in his wages by his matter, and that he did not know it wos bad.

GUILTY . The prisoner was further charged with honing been convicted in May, 1882, in the name of Samuel Flatt at this Court.


RICHARD HUMPHREYS (Sessions Warder). I produce a certificate of the conviction of Samuel Flat at this Court on 22nd May, 1882—he hadtwo years' hard labour—the prisoner is the man, I saw him daily during the whole of the two years—I knew him before that; he had been previously convicted—he was discharged on 21st May this year from Coldbath Fields.

HENRY WARD . I am principal warder of Her Majesty's Prison, Wandsworth—I was present in May, 1882, when the prisoner was convicted—I proved a previous conviction against him at that time—he is the man; I had had him in charge before that.

Cross-examined. You were tried at the Surrey Sessions in January, 1877, and had nine months.

GUILY.**— Six Years' Penal Servitude.


Before Mr. Recorder.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-954
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

Related Material

954. EMMA DAVIS (53) and EDMUND CHERRY were indicted (together with WILLIAM CHURCHWARD (18) and GEORGE JENKINS (19), who PLEADED GUILTY, for stealing two 5l. Bank of England notes, the property of Amos William Coombe.


ATHERLEY JONES for Cherry; MR. LILLEY for Davis.

The bank notes were in an envelope and were dropped by a servant of the

prosecutor on the premises. They were picked up by the prisoners Churchward and Jenkins, and were changed by the other prisoners. After hearing the evidence the RECORDER was of opinion that no case felony was established; he therefore permitted Churchward and Jenkins to withdraw their plea of

GUILTY and directed a verdict of

NOT GUILTY as to all the prisoners.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-955
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

955. JOSEPH HUSTON (38) , Forging and uttering a warrant for the payment of 12l. 10s., with intent to defraud.

MR. BROUN Prosecuted.

MONTAGUE HARRIS . I am a jeweller of York Lodge, Kennington Park—Mr. Theobald introduced the prisoner to me in May last year—the prisoner said he had some coupons which he wished to have discounted which belonged to the South London Tramways Company, and the interest was due on 1st January, 1884—these are the coupons (produced)—I paid "I can advance the money, but it is a most unusual thing for persons to detach coupons before the money is due"—he, said "They belong to my aunt, she gave them to me to get cashed to provide for my wife and family"—I asked for one to take to the Company's office to ask them whether they were genuine—I cannot identify the one I took, but I saw them all together—I made inquiries—I afterwards drew this cheque (produced) for 17l. 10s.; it has been paid—I gave it to Mr. Theobald; the prisoner was aware of that became he did not part with the coupons till I gave it to him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not keep a shop—I know the Punch Tavern—I do not go there to business, I dine there—the cheque was made payable to Theobald—I held a promissory note for 1l. 5s.—I did not lend the money upon that, I took that as collateral security—I have known Theobald as a clerk—you are the first client he has introduced to me—you waited about outside the house, I paw you—I paid the coupons into my bank on 1st January, when they became due—I could not find you—I knew they were not right about seven days afterwards—I did not threaten to give Theobald into custody—I did not meet him at a tavern in Fleet Street the morning he was given in custody—I said to Theobald "You can give him into custody if you like"—I was reluctant to sign the charge sheet because I do not like the trouble of these things—I do not know if you received the money except from what Theobald told me—I saw you give the bonds to Theobald, and then you showed me a duplicate and said "They are right, or else a pawnbroker would not lend money upon them"—I sent you a letter, but found you had removed—the terms of the letter were that the bonds were forgeries, and asking you to pay the money—it might have been to the effect that the promissory note for 1l. 5s. was due—it stated "the coupons, my collateral security, are proved to be forgery."

CHARLES ALBERT THEOBALD . My office is at 12, New Street, Covent Garden—early in May the prisoner asked me if I knew any gentleman who lent money—I asked him upon what, and he produced seven coupons of the South London Tramways Company, one for 12l. 10s., one for 2l. 10s., and five for 1l. 5s. each—I asked him for his name and address, which he gave me—I asked him to leave one—he left one of the 1l. 5s. ones, and I was to let him know the result of my inquiry—I made inquiry—a few days afterwards I took him to Mr. Harris's house, 1, Camberwell New Road—on the second occasion I saw the prisoner I asked him

how he became possessed of them, and he said his aunt was a bondholder in the Company and had given him tile coupons for the purpose of raising money for his wife and family—he said "You see they are good business, because, a pawnbroker has lent on them," and he produced a ticket for one of these Coupons—I showed that to Harris—Harris ask ad him how he became possessed of them—he admitted that his aunt was a bondholder in the Company—Harris said he Would make inquiries let him knew through me whether the matter would be entertained—I took Harris to his stockbrokers—we also went to the Company's office, then I made an appointment with the prisoner to go to Harris's house—Harris drew this scheque (produced)—it Was a Bank Holiday, and the prisoner came to my house, which is only a stone's throw from Mr. Harris's house—I went across to Harris and gate him the coupons and the promissory note signed by the prisoner in exchange for the cheque—I went back to my house where the prisoner was waiting and said "Here is the cheque for 17l. 10s."—he said "It is Bank Holiday, what at we to do? I must have the money to-day"—I went to Harris, who directed me to a house in Westminster Bridge Road, where we got the cheque cashed by three 5l. notes in the and 2l. 10s. in gold—I gave the prisoner the 5l. notes drawing-room of my house and kept the 2l. 10s.—Harris said he should like a promissory note by way of collateral security, and I drew out the of produced, which the prisoner signed in my presencence—the latter part of April I received a communication in respect of these coupon not being paid—I gave the prisoner in charge to Constable Pepper at the Dolphin public-house, Ludgate Circus.

Cross-examined. I did not know you intimately before May—I am not a frequent visitor at the Dolphin—I never met any otie there—I do not do business in public-houses—I reside at 105, Hinton Street, Brunswick Square—I am a solicitor's clerk—I receive a salary now—I do not use my employer's name, nor go to public-courts, unless I am sent in the course of my business—my employer took me back after an imprisonment I had—I was charged with conspiracy, and the change was dismissed by the Magistrate—I never gave a bond—you signed a receipt for the purchase money, but I cannot find it.

Re-examined. Hunston was not with me when I took the coupon to the Company's office, Harris was—I was sot requested to leave the coupons.

WILLIAM ROBINSON . I am accountant Ealing—I was employed by the South London Tramways Company in April, last year—the coupons produced are not genuine—there are no private marks on them—I believe these were duplicates of some returned from the Bank having been paid—the numbers ate filled in irregularly in ink—the prisoner was temporarily employed by the Company about two years ago as a clerk—he would have access to the documents and papers.

Cross-examined. All genuine coupons have the private marks—those marks were put on 15 or 18 months ago—some bonds were sent out with the numbers in pen and ink—I do not remember that it was found that I had sent out some of the same numbers in type as had been sent out in ink.

HENRY CAMERON RICHARDSON . I am secretary of the South London Tramways Company—of these coupons produced the first lot are forgeries, those at the bottom are the Company's coupons issued from the office—

I know the first are not genuine because they have not our private mark upon them—that mark was put on in August or September, 1883—some false coupons were presented, and we wrote to every one of the bondholders and had the private mark put on, and instructions were given to the bankers not to honour any without the mark—the mark was put on all the bonds, the last two we received back within a week—I was in doubt at the police-court about two bonds, but they have since come in for transfer and I see they have the mark on them—looking at the register I am able to say that these bonds were never attached to the debentures issued by the Company, also from the fact that we have the proper numbers paid and returned through the Bank, and the fact that these have not the Company's stamp upon them—the bonds and signatures are lithographed—the genuine bonds attached to the debentures have the private mark upon them.

Cross-examined. Some of the bonds were numbered with pen and ink—I do not know that any were put aside and not used—I ordered them to be destroyed—ink was used to complete a set of one denomination instead of sending to the printers, and in the case of a clerk spoiling a bond—I do not remember that some were made out in blank in error with the intention of being issued—that might have occurred in two or three cases—a figure "3" looks like mine, the other figures I am almost certain are not mine, but I should not like to swear to figures, even my own—the numbers being made with pen and ink would not prove forgery—not more than 5 per cent, were filled in with pen and ink—you filled up some bonds—duplicates of the bonds cannot be genuine.

Re-examined. When the bonds were called in the prisoner was not in the Company's employ—he was employed from January 28th to March 14th, and from July 18th to September 26th, 1882, so that the bonds were called in and private marks put on their backs about eleven months after he left.

GEORGE PEPPER (City Policeman 407). On 26th June Theobalds gave the prisoner in custody at Ludgate Circus—the prisoner made no statement—I found nothing on him relating to the charge.

Cross-examined. We passed Harris's house on the way to Brixton Station, and you said "Why does not Theobald go to Harris's house and bring him on at the same time?"—Theobald said he would not.

The prisoner in his defence said thot he did not know the bonds were forged, he had none of the money, and no doubt the bonds were put aside and got circulate amongst the public


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-956
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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956. JOSEPH HUSTON was again indicted for forging and uttering a warrant for 2l. 10s. also five warrants for 1l. 5s. each, with intent to defraud, upon which no evidence was offered.


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-957
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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957. HENRY CLIFFORD (35) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Ann Hutton during the life of his wife.— Three Day's Imprisonment.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-958
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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958. CHARLES HENRY HOARE (35) to feloniously marrying Emma Rosa Currie during the life of his wife.— Three Days' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-959
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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959. EDWARD GEORGE HARRIS (34) to unlawfully obtaining divers sums by false pretences. (MR. FRITH stated that he was the tool of Walter Harmer, who had absconded, and would assist in his conviction.)— To enter into recognisances to appear for judgment when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-960
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment > hard labour

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960. WILLIAM WOOD (34) to two indictments for breaking and entering the dwelling-houses of Amelia Brown and another, and stealing eleven medals and a breast-pin, their property, having been convicted of felony at this Court in November, 1878.— To complete his previous term of imprisonment, and Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-961
VerdictsNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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961. JOHN STEWART (19) , Unlawfully assaulting Antonio Franco, with intent, &c. Second Count, indecent assault.

MR. LILLEY Prosecuted.

GUILTY on Second Count. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-962
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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962. GEORGE FISHER (42) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Susannah Fisher, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.

MR. HORACE AVORT Prosecuted.

SUSAINAH FISHER . I live at 56, Belvedere Road, Lambeth—I married the prisoner on 10th January—I carry on a general business—he was a stonemason—we have both queer tempers, and in August last I applied for a summons—I attended before the Magistrate, and the prisoner was discharged upon his giving some undertaking—he went away on the Friday and came back the following Wednesday evening, about 6 o'clock—he came to the room where I was lying—he asked me how I was, and if I had been on the sick list; he met with a cool reception—he was in and oat during the evening till 10 o'clock—I did not speak to him—the lodgers were upstairs—my mother came at 6 p.m., and my sister at 11.45—I sent for them—we were all together in the back parlour—at 12.30 the prisoner came in and knocked at the door and asked if we were in bed—my sister said I was in bed but she was not—he said "Is that you, Nellie?"—she said "Yes"—he went upstairs in the back bedroom, came down, and went into the back kitchen, where his tools are kept—he knocked at the door, my sister said "You can't come in, we are going; to bed"—then the door was burst in—the prisoner struck my sister a blow with a mallet, and she fell down—then he gave my mother a touch and she went down too—my mother put her hand across my sister's head, and he gave her a blow, and she fell, and my sister too—I was frightened, and got up to make way to the door; he gave me a blow—I do not feel the effects of it much, just a scar; it has got all right—I remained standing in the middle of the room, opposite the fireplace; I got up very soon after he struck me—I had two side blows from the mallet, they were very slight—the police came, and he was taken away.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My Sister did not say you had no right in the house, and tell you to go where you had been—I had been ill—I do not know what the prisoner did say.

MARGARET LEE . I am 82 years of age—I am the mother of the last witness—she married the prisoner—I was with her and my other daughter on 13th August, in her back parlour—my other daughter came to take me home—the prisoner came in about 12.30—Susannah was going to bed—heard him go to the kitchen—he came back and burst the door in and gave Ellen two blows with a mallet, one on the ear, and I spread upon her to save her, and he gave me a blow and broke my arm—"I was taken to the hospital.

ELLEN MARY LEE . I was with my mother at Susannah Fisher's house when the prisoner came home—I declined to let him in—I heard him go

to the'kitchen and come back to the door—the door was burst in—I then received a blow on the side of my head which knocked me down inSensible—I was at the hospital eight days—I am suffering from deafness shortness of sight, and loss of memory.

Cross-examined. I went to Susannah's because I was sent for; I refused at first to go—I never threatened you, nor cut my finger with a knife—I never said I would run a knife into you—I hurt my wrist with a bracelet.

WILLIAM JOHN HARNETT . I am a lodger in this house—Some time after 12 o'clock on 14th August I went downstairs—I Saw the prisoner at the street-door—he had something in his hand—he threw it on the floor, it sounded heavy—afterwards, as I caught hold of him, he said "Let me go, I won't run away; I done it, and I intended to do it"—I took hold of him because he was making out at the door after my wife—I had heard the door go in, and screams, when my wife and I came down.

GEORGE SIMPSON (Policeman L 149). I was called to 56, Belvedere Road at 12.45 on 14th August—I asked prisoner what was the matter—he said "I don't know, you can go in and see"—another constable went in—I took the prisoner to the station; he was charged with assaulting these women—he said nothing.

GEORGE FREDERICK COOPER . On 13th August I was house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—three women were brought there—I examined Susannah Fisher; she had a Wound over her left eyebrow, and another on the top scalp on the left side, each about an inch long—she was covered with blood—She came in her nightdress—the wounds had bled pretty freely—I was shown the mallet at the police-court; I saw blood marts upon it—I also saw Mrs. Lee—she had a slight wound upon her head, and her arm was broken—Ellen Lee had two wounds on the' top of the scalp, one going down to the bone, and a large bruise behind, her right eat; she was partly unconscious—all the wounds might have been caused by the mallet produced.

HENRY BARKER (Policeman L 100). I assisted the women into a cab to go to the hospital—I found this mallet on the parlour drawer; it was marked with wet blood.

The prisoner in his defence said that he was driven to it, by the women's conduct. He had been to Brighton and round the coast to look for work, and when he came, home there was nothing to sleep on, the bed was locked up in a corner, and when he asked to be let in the sister told him he had no business there, so he burst the door open, but did not know what he did after that.

GUILTY . There were two other indictments against the prisoner for assaults upon the other women.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-963
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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963. EDWARD WITHALL (41) , Feloniously marrying Louis Simpson during the life of his wife.

MR. DIXON Prosecuted.

There being no proof that the prisoner knew of his wife's existence within seven years of the second marriage, the Jury were directed to return a verdict of


15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-120
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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963A. JOHN FULLER (35) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Thomas and stealing seven silver spoon and other goods.

15th September 1884
Reference Numbert18840915-964
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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964. JOHN FULLER was again indicted for bearkingand enterin