Old Bailey Proceedings.
19th October 1885
Reference Number: t18851019

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
19th October 1885
Reference Numberf18851019

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Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers in the Court,








Law Booksellers and Publishers.



On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, October 19th, 1885, and following days.

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD, Knt., Sir HENRY CHARLES LOPES, Knt., and Hon. Sir JOHN CHARLES DAY, Knt., three of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; WILLIAM LAWRENCE, Esq., M.P., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE, Bart., M.P., Sir THOMAS DAKIN, Knt., Sir ANDREW LUSK, Bart., M.P., Sir HENRY EDMUND KNIGHT, Knt., and JOHN STAPLES, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS, Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; HERBERT JAMESON WATERLOW, Esq., JOSEPH SAVORY, Esq., EDWARD JAMES GRAY, Esq., DAVID EVANS, Esq., PHINEAS COWAN, Esq., and WILLIAM KNILL, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY, Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.

DAVID EVANS, Esq., Alderman,









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


NEW COURT.—Monday, October 19th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-922
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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922. THOMAS KIRBY and THOMAS KIRBY junior, Stealing eight bags of flour of Messrs. Gillespie and Scott.

MESSRS. J. P. GRAIN and GILL Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

DAVID FRANCIS (Thames Police Sergeant). In July last I was at New Brentford with a constable named Richardson, making inquiries in another matter, and on 13th July, about 5 p.m., I went alone on board the barge Lucy, which was close to the Grand Junction Canal—no one was on board, but the younger prisoner came on board and asked me what my business was there—I said "Are you the master?"—he said "No; I am the mate of the barge"—I said "I want to look at this barge"—he asked me into the cabin—we went down, and I told him I was a police officer—I pointed to a bed berth, and said "What is that underneath there?"—he said "Flour, I think"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "That is an over, and we are making use of it"—we went into the hold, where I saw a pile covered with sacks—I pulled the sacks off and said "What is this?"—he made no reply—I found six marked sacks, with the marks downwards covered with other empty sacks—this (produced) is one of them—I said "Where is your father?"—he said "Ashore; I do not know where"—I said "Go and fetch him"—he did so, while I remained on the barge—the father came and asked what my business was—I drew his attention to the flour under the bed berth, and asked him to account for having it—he said "About a month ago I loaded 500 bags of flour at K Jetty, Victoria Docks, and took them to Mercer's Mill, Uxbridge; I did not deliver them myself When I went to take the barge away I found the flour on board"—I asked if he had told any one—he said "Yes; I told my master"—I said "When?"—he said "Some time ago"—I asked if he had acquainted

the people at the mill or the Dock Company that he had an excess—he said "No; I never tell anybody when I have anything over; only a short time ago my master had to pay for two quarters of wheat"—I left an officer in charge, and went and made inquiries, and about 6 o'clock I met him in High Street, Brentford, and told him the account he gave did not seem at all satisfactory, and he would have to go with me to the station—he was taken there and detained—they were taken before a Magistrate next day, and on the way back to the station the elder prisoner said "It is no use my telling you a lie; I did not get them from the quay; I got them from the steamship"—I took the sacks from the barge, and afterwards went back to the barge and found a seventh sack in the hold, covered over and put into a plain sack which concealed the marks on it.

Cross-examined. What he said was "My master had to pay last week for two quarters of wheat which were short"—his master at that time was Mr. Sanders, who is here—I showed the younger prisoner a paper, on the supposition that I was going to buy the barge, and I think he believed it—I did not lead the father to believe I was an intending purchaser—the barge is covered with gratings and tarpaulins; the gratings are used as hatches.

FREDERIC MULER . I am in the service of Clive and Son, merchants, of Great Tower Street—the steamship Longhurst was reported as arriving on June 8th—she was discharged in the Victoria Docks—we were to receive by her a large quantity of flour with the brand "Long John"—Gillespie and Scott were agents for the owners, and I got from them a release for the goods—I gave an order for Stevens and Mercer, of Uxbridge, to receive 500 of the bags on June 6th or 8th.

Cross-examined. I have known the brand "Long John" about three years, during which there have been large consignments of it to London.

JOSEPH BASE . I am clerk to Gillespie and Scott, of Philpot Lane, agents for Elliott and Co., owners of the Longhurst, by which we had a freight of flour consigned to the order of Clive and Son—to enable them to get the goods I should give a release on the ship for the payment of the freight—I collect the freight—the release would be the authority for the mate to deliver that part of the cargo—after the cargo was got out there was, according to the dock return, a shortage of 32 bags of flour.

Cross-examined. The manifest shows 4,490 bags of "Long John," and the dock returns show that there was 32 short—I do not know that 40 bags of "Long John" came in another vessel afterwards—mistakes are sometimes made in the manifests and in the receipts of the lightermen, and in the dock landing accounts.

Re-examined. Some bags come short with different marks—sometimes a lighterman gives a receipt for a less quantity than he receives—I should not call that a mistake, but it might be.

MR. SAUNDERS. I am a lighterman—I received instructions from Messrs. Mercer to take 500 bags of flour from the ship to their mill—I got this receipt (produced) from the mill personally from Mr. Mercer on 19th June—the elder prisoner was the master of my barge Lucy, and the younger the mate—neither of them said anything to me on this matter till the elder prisoner was arrested—I then said to him "Have you got any sacks on board?"—he said "No; but I have got some flour which I had over out of that last lot."

Cross-examined. He has been eight years in my employment—he has been out on bail, and has been working for me ever since—he has been in Brentford all his life—he was a long while in Mr. Dale's employment—the men sometimes find that they are short in taking a load from a vessel, and I then compel them to make up the deficiency out of their wages—the consignee would let me know, and he would stop it from my account—the men occasionally receive more than their quantity, and do not tell their masters, and so recoup themselves for the stoppage on the "shorts"—he made three voyages for the delivery of these bags at Uxbridge—he worked back again to Brentford, and went up and down the river, calling at various places with seven sacks on board—he afterwards had a voyage with coal from Brentford to London—the barge Wag left Millwall Dock in July with 10 sacks of "Long John" flour short—I had notice from the consignee, and told my men they would have to make up the deficiency—when the lighter leaves the ship the man has to sign for what he has received, and he is bound by his signature—if he signs for 20 sacks and there are only 19 it is very seldom rectified—if he signs for 20 and finds he has 23 he does not give them up.

Re-examined. I do not authorise that; it is a custom among the men, which we prevent whenever we can, by giving notice to the owners—I did not go and examine the barge when the prisoners were arrested—I supposed it to be empty—I have charged the prisoners with shortings—I do not know when, but perhaps three or four times in eight years.

By MR. PURCELL. When a barge comes in or goes out of dock they have to get a pass for any goods on board—I know that my barge went into Millwall Dock and came out again after one of the transactions.

JAMES MANLEY . I am foreman at Mercer and Duker's mill, Uxbridge—on 19th June I received a cargo of flour from the Lucy, counted the bags, and found 500—this is Mr. Mercer's receipt (produced).

Cross-examined. The bags are counted by tiers, and we cannot very well make a mistake in counting—the usual average is 10 bags in a tier, and we get on top of them to count them, and see that they are all level, and if there are 8 tiers 8 times 10 make 80 bags.

MARMADUKE HARE . I am a shipping clerk—Mr. Shepherd employed me to assist in discharging the cargo of the Longhurst, and among other barges we discharged into the Lucy—the bags are passed down a shoot, and as the marks come they are carried to whoever is entitled to them—the Kirbys were in the Lucy, and the younger prisoner packed principally—they were to receive 500 bags of "Long John" flour—the elder prisoner said that 9 bags were required for the top tier, and he had only 8, he was one bag short; that is, as the barge was packed he wanted a whole tier, he wanted 9 and we had only 8 to give him—he waited to get the other bag to complete the 500—I called out to Mr. Shepherd "He has got the 500," and he wrote this receipt (produced)—this is the pass-book which would be signed by Mr. Shepherd, by the Custom House officer, by the lighterman, and by the Dock Company, to allow him to pass out of the Docks.

Cross-examined. It specifies 500 bags, and it would pass him out—there were six barges at one shoot, and sometimes six bags, came down at once, and sometimes more, and they are transferred to the barges according to their marks—I follow them about—mistakes are frequently made in the delivery by shipping clerks to lightermen; more is

given to them than ought to be—we consider the lighterman bound by his receipt; if he goes away and finds he has 19 instead of 20, so much the worse for him—when the bags are put into the barges I do not take a note of them; I count the tiers, and multiply them by the number of sacks in each—I looked over the barge with Kirby when the sacks had been put in, and we both agreed—I did not say "You have got your compliment"—we found that he wanted one more—I did not say "You want 14 more"—this is my tally-book (produced;) it shows that Kirby had 9 bags short of 500, according to the tiers.

MR. SHEPHERD (Not examined in chief). Cross-examined. I employ Mr. Hare to tally for me—I sometimes discharge 20 barges at once—there were six or seven barges at the shoot down which the Long John sacks came—mistakes are sometimes made in the delivery of the bags, and I have known more than the right number delivered—my tally-man has given 21 sacks more than the proper number—the lightermen count the tiers, and make a calculation on the tops of their barges, and compare it with the tally-clerk—I have known mistakes to take place in the arithmetic—when the vessel was done up I was about 50 bags short, but 41 bags came over in the Bamborough Head—I have examined Mr. Hare's book and the calculation as to the Lucy—it shows that he ought to have given the prisoners 15 bags more to have completed the 500.

By MR. GRAIN. Mistakes arise from want of accuracy on the part of the tally-clerk, or from the lighterman miscounting his bags, or through dishonesty in the way he packs.

The prisoners received good characters.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-923
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

923. GEORGE CHARLES HILL (19), WILLIAM HENRY SAVIN (30), CHARLES GUIGNEBERT (19), and CHARLES YOUNGMAN (25) , Unlawfully conspiring to cheat and defraud the Army and Navy Co-operative Supply Society, Limited.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. GILL appeared for Hill, MR. MONTAGU

WILLIAMS for Savin, and MR. BESLEY for Youngman.

JOHN ALLCHURCH . I am storekeeper at the Army and Navy Stores, Victoria Street—the four prisoners were in the employ of the Auxiliary Stores—Savin was foreman of the vegetable department, Hill was a carman, Youngman a counterman in the vegetable department, and Guignebert a checker in the transport department—on Saturday, 25th July, about 2.30, I was with Brennan and saw van No. 34 leave the Stores in Hill's charge—I followed it to 7, Fensbury Terrace, Wandsworth Road, which house is in the joint occupation of Savin and Youngman, one having the upper and the other the lower portion—Hill took a hamper from the tail of the van, took it down the area of No. 7, and handed it to a woman, who was subsequently identified as Mrs. Savin—as the van drove away Brennan seized the horse and I ran down the area and took hold of the hamper, which was full of fruit, vegetables, and other articles—Mrs. Savin was dragging it along the passage—I said to her "I want to see that hamper"—Brennan brought Hills to me and I said to him "Have you got your sheet signed for this basket?"—he said "No, it is not on the sheet; the checker gave it to me without being booked, and told me to leave it at Mr. Savin's house"—there was no entry on the sheet of any parcel to be delivered at that address—I left Hill with Brennan and went for a policeman, and kept Hill till 4.30,

when Savin came home, and I said to him "What have you got to say about this hamper?"—he said "I know nothing about it"—they were both given in custody—the hamper was opened and contained three marrows, some cucumbers, cabbages, and other articles—about 12 on the same night I went to 7, Fensbury Terrace, and saw Youngman, who had just come home—I asked him what he had to say about the hamper—he said "I know nothing about it; I don't know what you mean"—I gave him in custody, and on the way to the railway station he said "I remember about the hamper, I packed it; Mr. Savin told me he had lost the bill, and asked me to pack it"—about 1.30 next day I went to 20, Radnor Street, Chelsea, and saw Guignebert going in—I said "What have you to say about passing out a package to-day which was not booked-up or entered in the checking?"—he said "I know nothing about it"—at the station he said "If the foreman came to me and told me to send out a hamper without being booked-up I suppose I ought to do it"—I said "What foreman?"—he said "Mr. Savin"—the label on the hamper was addressed "Luckie, 41, Spencer Park, Wandsworth Common"—on August 8th I went with Albert Winch to Savin's house again, and Winch identified Mrs. Savin.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. These are the Auxiliary Army and Navy Stores, managed by General Pim and Captain Disonomy—this was a Saturday afternoon—Savin had three or four countermen under him—the men at the Stores are allowed to deal there.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. The Auxiliary Stores are for perishable articles.

JAMES BRENNAN . I assist Mr. Allchurch—on 25th July I accompanied him when Hill left the Stores, and saw the van stop at 7, Fensbury Terrace, Wandsworth—Hill took a hamper out and took it inside the house—I stopped the van, and Hill made this statement to me, which I wrote down—he said "I have been carrying for some considerable time once a week, sometimes on Wednesday and sometimes on Saturday. Mrs. Savin has taken them in; my booker-up, Guignebert, has taken them in, and told me they were for Savin, 7, Fensbury Terrace. A woman took them in, I won't be sure if it was last Wednesday. I have had them booked for on the sheets; you have had them signed for; you will find them on the old sheets."

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. That was a voluntary statement.

GEORGE MARTIN . I am a van boy—I was in charge of this van on 25th July, and about 2 p.m. Hill placed this hamper on the van, and he took it out at 7, Fensbury Terrace.

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I have been with Hill about five months—we had been delivering all the morning on the Clapham round—we returned to the Stores about 2.15—Hill would then go home to his dinner and I should stand by the horse—the things to be put in the van would be put in a particular corner, and after the van was loaded I should get the sheet—Mr. Moore is manager of the transport department—I have taken cans of dripping to his house—I am still in the employment.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I afterwards saw some one get up and look inside the van—there were two parcels for the chef, without any labels—I did not see Youngman—the hamper was brought out and put in the van without concealment.

GEORGE DUNCOMB . I am foreman of the fruit and vegetable department

—when Youngman has received an order for vegetables or fruit he would execute it from the bill; he was the counterman under Savin's orders—they had no right to fill a hamper without a bill being sent—the hamper when filled should be put on the trolly with the bill and taken to the transport—there is no entry of the parcel for 7, Fensbury Terrace—Mr. Luckie, of 41, Spencer Park, Wandsworth, is a shareholder, and there was an order from him which was duly executed—Savin's wages were 44s. and Youngman's 27s. a week.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Savin had between 8 and 12 countermen, and sent out from 1,000 to 1,200 parcels a day in the busiest time—he has been in the employ about three years.

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I take orders from the person immediately above me; Hill took his orders from the manager of the transport.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Youngman worked from 5 or 6 a.m. to 5 or 6 p.m., and sometimes later—it was his duty to give directions—bills have been lost.

Re-examined. In the case of a bill being lost they take their orders from Mr. Curtis—they have no right to make up a parcel without a bill or orders from Mr. Curtis.

WILLIAM CURTIS . I am manager of the fruit and vegetable department—Youngman had no right to pack hampers or parcels without a bill—if a bill was lost we should probably hear from the member that the goods had not been sent, and a special order would be issued.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Bills are lost occasionally—duplicates can always be obtained—that does not happen once a week.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. The bills are made out with blank paper, in duplicate; one is kept on the cashier's desk and the other goes down to make up the order—it would be impossible to make it up from memory if it was lost, and it is against the rule to pack things without a bill or some kind of document.

JAMES MOORE . I am manager of the transport department of the Auxiliary Stores—Guignebert was a checker—this sheet is his writing—when a hamper is sent with the bill to the transport department Guignebert should satisfy himself that it is properly stamped, and he would enter it on the carman's delivery sheet and hand him the parcel—the bill is placed in the hamper and sent with the goods—the carman sees that the parcels are all entered on the sheet, and it was Guignebert's duty to see that all the articles were put into the van—here is on this sheet a parcel for Luckie, 41, Spencer Park, but none for Savin, of 7, Fensbury Terrace, Wandsworth.

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. Old and new hampers come back to us, they are our property—there are 50 or 60 people in the transport department, and about 40 carmen—there is a great rush of business on Saturday mornings, but we are not so busy in the afternoon—each carman has his district—we have a number of tables, and he goes to the checker, and says "There are your goods"—Hill has been working for the Stores since November—the boy who was with the former carman, Saunders, showed him his round—persons employed by the Stores are allowed to buy fruit and vegetables, and there are a greater number of the staff buying on Saturday—I get things from the Stores, and apart from these

things he has left cans of dripping at times, and Saunders before him—I do not know whether they were entered on the sheet.

Cross-examined. The 40 carts do not all draw up at the Transport Department at once, they follow each other—the goods are fully addressed on the bill—we have no labels on the hampers.

Re-examined. Any person employed in the Stores wishing to make a purchase, gets a bill like any other customer, and it has to be entered on the sheet.

EMILY RANN . I am cook to Mr. Luckie, of Spencer Park, Wandsworth Common—this is Miss Luckie's order—these goods were delivered part on 25th July in the morning, and the fruit in the afternoon, making up the complete order—this is my signature to the delivery sheet.

ALBERT WINCH . On 8th August I accompanied Mr. Allchurch to Savin's house, 7, Fensbury Terrace, Wandsworth—I had lived in the same house with Savin in a neighbouring street, and knew Mrs. Savin very well—I identified the person pointed out by Allchurch as Mrs. Savin.

JOHN SAMMER (Policeman B). I arrested Savin and Hill on 25th July, and afterwards Youngman—he said in reply to the charge, "I don't know what you mean"—I said, "One delivered here this afternoon"—he said, "I passed the hamper, Mr. Savin asked me to pass it, believing the bill was lost, and I did so"—I took Guignebert; he said, "I know nothing about it"—at the station he said, "Suppose your foreman gives you a hamper to send, I suppose you must do it?"

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I went there at midnight because I thought I should find him at home—I did not find him asleep—he did not see the hamper till he got to the station.

Guignebert's Defence. I have stolen nothing and received nothing, I have simply done my duty.

GUILTY . The Jury recommended Hill and Guignebert to mercy. SAVIN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. HILL and GUIGNEBERT— Six Months' Hard Labour each. YOUNGMAN— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 19th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-924
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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924. ARTHUR WILLIAM BUTLER (24) PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin after a conviction in 1881 at this Court of unlawfully uttering, in the name of Jackson.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-925
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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925. CAROLINE REDMAN (29) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-926
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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926. FRANK GEORGE DOWNER (22) to stealing, while employed in the Post-office, a post-letter, the property of H.M. Postmaster-General; also to stealing two other post-letters containing various articles.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-927
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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927. WALTER CLIFFORD (55) to stealing two post-letters the property of H.M. Postmaster-General. — Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-928
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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928. HARRY LOWTON WILLIAMS (20) to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post-office, post-letters the property of H.M. Postmaster-General.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-929
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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929. JAMES MCCARTHY (17) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


EDGAR BASSAN . I keep the Feathers, Wyld Street, Drury Lane—on 3rd October, between 5 and 6 o'clock, the prisoner came in for half-a-pint of ale, price 1d., and tendered this florin, which I saw instantly was bad—I said, "What is your game?"—he made no answer—I gave no change, but went on the other side of the bar and bolted the door—he asked for his change—I said, "If you wait a short time I will give you your change"—I went for a constable, leaving the potman in charge—a constable came, searched the prisoner, and found in his trousers pocket six shillings and two sixpences good money, and three coppers, and in his waistcoat pocket another bad florin.

RICHARD BAKER (Policeman E 373). The prisoner was given into my custody—I found six shillings and two sixpences in his right trousers pocket, two pennies in his left waistcoat pocket, and this bad florin in his right waistcoat pocket—I asked him how he came by them—he said, "I don't know; I was paid at 1 o'clock, and since then have been gambling"—I took him to the station and charged him—he made the same statement there.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am examiner of coins to Her Majesty's Mint—these florins are bad and from different moulds.

The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he thought he must have got the coins while gambling.

He received a good character.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-930
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

930. ELIZABETH BUTLER (27) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in her possession with intent to utter it.


ROBERT STAINER . I live at 49, Fetter Lane, and serve there at the shop of John Buer, pork butcher—on 21st August, about 9 o'clock, the prisoner came in for threepenny worth of haggis, and gave me a bad half-crown—I gave her change—I sounded it on the till—the manager came round and found it was bad—he told the prisoner so, and broke it in his teeth into three pieces—she said, "I cannot afford to lose a half-crown, you must give me another for it"—he said, "We will see about that"—she refused to leave the shop—a constable came—she said that she got it by prostitution—the manager said he would let her off this time—the policeman tried to press the charge—these are the three pieces (produced).

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You had a sort of brown ulster on.

BENJAMIN CANE . I am assistant to Mr. Davis, a draper, of Dean Street, Soho, and Fetter Lane—on 15th September, about 9 o'clock, the prisoner came in for a pocket-handkerchief—I handed her a 2 3/4 d. one—she gave me a florin—I put it down on the counter, and gave her 1s. 9 1/4 d. change, and then tried it in the tester and found it was bad—she picked up the change and went out of the shop—I called after her, "Hi! missus;" she took no notice—I ran after her, but could not find her.

Cross-examined. You were in sight when I called after you—there was a customer in the shop—people said you went into a house.

HARRY HARVEY (City Policeman 267). I was called to Mr. Buer's shop, and Stainer charged the prisoner with uttering a bad half-crown, pieces of which were shown me—I had seen her before—I said "Lis, you come from Half-moon Passage?"—she said "Yes"—I said "Where

did you get this half-crown from?"—she said "I have just prostituted my body to a man round the corner for this"—I said "Do you know him?"—she said "Yes, I do; I have seen him before; he works at the City Press office"—I asked the manager if he would charge her, but as Mr. Buer was not on the premises he would not, and I allowed her to go, leaving the pieces of coin with the manager—on Wednesday, the 16th, about 8 p.m., I saw the prisoner in Fetter Lane with a young man, who ran away—I could not collar him—I took hold of the prisoner by both hands, and told her she would be charged with uttering counterfeit coin at Mr. Davis's, Deane Street, Fetter Lane, the night previous—she said "You make a mistake, not me, I was not there"—I took her to the station—when we got into Holborn she began to struggle, and said "Don't drag me through the street in that way, showing me up"—I felt a hard substance in her left sleeve—I said "What have you got here, Liz?"—she said "Don't you get putting anything up there; you are getting something up for me"—on the Viaduct I got a young man to take hold of her right arm, and found in her left sleeve a packet containing five counterfeit half-crowns, wrapped up separately in these pieces of paper—when I opened it at the station she said a young man asked her to have a drink and to hold a parcel, and when he saw me approaching he ran away—I saw a man in her company in Greystoke Place on Monday night, and followed them through into Cursitor Street, and back into Fetter Lane, and then I saw them again on the Tuesday.

Cross-examined. Several men were about, but you were with the one I saw you with on Monday and Tuesday—I have tried to find the man, but had not sufficient information to take him upon.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This florin and half-crown are bad—these five are all counterfeit, from three different moulds—these coins are rubbed with lampback and wrapped in paper, and then before they are uttered, they are taken out, and the lampblack rubbed off.

The prisoner in her defence stated that a man asked her to hold a parcel while he crossed the road to speak to a man, and immediately the constable came and took her, and that she knew nothing about the other two cases.

GUILTY . She then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction of unlawful uttering in January, 1884, in the name of Elizabeth Marshall.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

The COURT considered that Harvey had acted with great discretion.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 20th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-931
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

931. EVAN EDWARD DAVIES (29) , Forging and uttering an order for 125l., with intent to defraud.



NEHEMIAH LEAROYD . I am a solicitor, practising alone in the City, and I have a partner at Beresford, Yorkshire—the prisoner came into my service about 18 months ago as outdoor clerk and under clerk in the contentious department—he would make entries on sheets of his daily work—up to 15th April I had reason to complain of him, but had no suspicion of dishonesty—on 11th April it was his duty to pay money into

Court in an action, and I gave him this cheque—receiving this telegram on 16th April I took out a warrant—the prisoner never came to the office after that, and the warrant could not be executed—about the end of June or the beginning of July I first received a communication from the bank as to the two cheques, and sent for my pass-book, and then for the cheques—I received these two, one for 125l., dated 23rd June, and one for 20l., dated 22nd April—the one debited to my account on 16th June, and the other on 25th June—I believe the signatures to the two cheques are genuine, but the bodies of them are in the prisoner's writing—one is payable to Charles Williams or bearer, and endorsed "Charles Williams" in the prisoner's writing, with "J. Walsh and Co." under it—the second is payable to and endorsed "Charles Williams," in the prisoner's writing—he had no authority from me direct or indirect to draw or utter these cheques, and did not know there were such cheques until I received the communication from the bank.

FREDERICK LAWLEY (Detective Officer). I received two warrants from Guildhall, and went with them to Queenstown on 19th July, and on board the steamship Servia there I saw the prisoner—I read the warrants to him—he said "I shall make no answer to them here; I'll wait till I get Mr. Learoyd in the witness box; you and others will be astonished at the questions he will be usked, and mind he cannot prefer any other than these two charges against me"—I said "What money have you left, of the 60l. that you received in change for the cheque at Glasgow?"—he said "14l.; I paid for my passage to New York; I spent about 20l. while in New York, and I brought away 5l. with me, which I spent on the voyage; the other I have left in America"—I came with him to Liverpool—on the voyage he said "Fortunately for me when I was arrested I was not searched, as I had got the whole of the money and a quantity of papers, which I have sent home to a friend in London, and my solicitor will know what use to make of them when he gets Mr. Learoyd in the witness box; you will see he dare not charge me"—I conveyed him to Moor Lane Station—I found a letter on him addressed to Mr. Charles Williams, General Post Office, New York City, U.S.

JOHN AITCHISON . I am passenger manager to the Anchor Steamship Company, Glasgow—on 24th June this year the prisoner came to our office about 1.30, produced this cheque for 128l., and asked for a passage to New York by the Circassia—I telegraphed up to London, and ultimately took the cheque, which was afterwards sent to London and paid—I gave him the passage, and a 50l. draft.

EDWARD RYDER . I am a clerk at the City Bank, where Mr. Learoyd keeps a private and also a business account—these two cheques came one from Glasgow and the other from New York, and were presented at the bank.

NEHEMIAH LEAROYD (Re-examined). These are portions of my letter-paper on which the cheques are written.

MR. WILLIAMS submitted that the prisoner had done no act of forgery or uttering within the jurisdiction of the Court. The RECORDER, after consulting MR. JUSTICE FIELD, left the case to the Jury as to whether the prisoner when he obtained the pieces of paper with the prosecutor's signature within the jurisdiction, did so with the intent to make a false cheque.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-932
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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932. HORSLEY MAPLESON, Unlawfully publishing a false and defamatory libel concerning George Tobyn Dashwood Beecher, to which he pleaded a justification.

MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. KISCH Defended.

GEORGE TOBYN DASHWOOD BEECHER . I live at 57, Weymouth Street, Portland Place, and am a physician and apothecary—I have the diploma of physician of the College of Edinburgh and a certificate of midwifery from there—in 1879 I was the prisoner's assistant under an agreement, which came to an end ultimately—in February, 1884, I obtained a diploma from the Society of Apothecaries—I am now medical officer to the Prince Albert and Duchess of Kent lodges of Odd Fellows; the first is held in Albany Street, and the second in George Street, Manchester Square—I was appointed to the Prince Albert on 29th June, 1884, and to the Duchess of Kent in January, 1885—these letters (produced) are in the prisoner's writing. (These letters, written in May and June, 1885, by the prisoner to the Noble Grand of the lodges, imputed that Mr. Beecher was not a qualified surgeon, and had no right to practise surgery; that he had failed to pass his examination at the Royal College of Surgeons, Elinburgh, and had been elected by chicanery and bribery.) All the letters refer to me—I am qualified to practise surgery, although I do not hold the diploma.

Cross-examined. The Noble Grands are officers of the board of management of the lodges—the letters were posted to the Noble Grands, and were read at open lodges—I am only an honorary member, and am familiar with the rules observed at the lodge meetings—they are tiled, with a warder to prevent any one coming in except members—I am 51—I obtained my apothecary's certificate in February, 1884, and my certificate from the Royal College of Edinburgh was on 5th February, 1885—I am legally qualified to practise surgery by both those examinations, but not to recover fees as a surgeon—I was examined in surgery at Edinburgh—when I was appointed to these lodges I was a member of the Society of Apothecaries, from which I had the qualification to practise surgery, and to give a certificate if some one died—I swear it gave me more right to practise surgery than a person with no such qualification—there are two examinations, preliminary and final, for the Society of Apothecaries' examination—I passed the preliminary six months before June, 1884—I was not examined in pure surgery at my final examination—I was examined in anatomy—I never passed an examination in surgery, but I had gone through the hospital practice and anatomy, and that will entitle any person to practise surgery, and any other medical person in the witness-box would give the same answer—the law entitles apothecaries to practise surgery, but not to recover fees which are not paid at the time—this certificate would give me the right to perform the most difficut surgical operations if I was fool enough to do so—I should run no more risk than an M.R.C.S.—in London every person would call in a pure surgeon—I was with Mr. Hunter, surgeon, of Pimlico, 18 years ago—after remaining there three or four years, I went as a clerk to Messrs Savory and Moore—I was there some years, and then went to Messrs. Legison's, lozenge manufacturers, and travelled for orders for their drugs—then I was with the prisoner for five or six years—I kept his books during that time—he is a properly qualified M.R.C.S.—he held the office of surgeon to these lodges a great many years—I did not know he was a member of them till I was told so—in that capacity he would

be entitled to all their privileges—I receive a medical officer's emoluments to attend patients as they may apply to me—if a man applied to me to have his leg amputated I should recommend him to go to the hospital for help—if he objected I should amputate his leg if necessary, calling in some one to assist me—I should lead in the operation—I have never operated on any member of these societies; I should take the responsibility if necessary—application has been made to me for a minor surgical operation—there was one operation when I had not the instruments—I could have borrowed them, out I sent the patient to Mr. Sutton—I know Mr. Bale, the secretary of the Prince Albert Lodge—it is not correct that members of that lodge would get an operation performed by applying to Mr. Bloxham or Mr. Sutton, as I was associated with them—I do not know Rule 21 of the Duchess of Kent lodge, "That a qualified surgeon shall be appointed"—I expect the rules govern the couduct of the lodges—I know nothing about the rules—if a child had swallowed some corrosive fluid and were likely to be choked, I should perform tracheotomy—I have also been appointed medical officer to St. James's Lodge—I do not know that the prisoner did not belong to that lodge; he was formerly surgeon to it—I never heard that he wrote to that lodge—I receive 3s. per member per annum—they would be entitled to surgical and medical attendance and medicine—I should attend them—I should call one of my friends in to assist in a surgical case—in only one case I sent a patient to my friend—neither Mr. Bloxham nor Mr. Sutton have been appointed surgeons to the lodge—I have not heard that the members have complained that a surgeon has not been appointed—it is libellous to state that I was plucked for an examination; I never went up for it.

Re-examined. There was no bribery or chicanery in connection with my appointment.

ROBERT BALE . I am secretary to the Prince Albert Lodge—I received these letters, A, B, and C, by post, and the chairman and I opened them together, and he or I read them aloud to the general meeting of the lodge (about 40 or 50 were present) as part of the business of the evening meeting—they were discussed especially with regard to Mr. Beecher—he was appointed on the date named in the regular way—in consequence of complaints we got rid of Mr. Mapleson, and then we had several candidates and elected Mr. Beecher by ballot of the members.

Cross-examined. The letters were read to the members with closed doors—a member is stationed at the door to prevent any one but members coming in—the members would be under no obligation not to disclose what took place at the meeting—certain things are kept secret, but not such things as this—I don't think it would be improper for members to talk outside about the contents of these letters—the only instances where members have complained that they did not know Mr. Mapleson was still the officer, was where they themselves had removed—there are district, lodge, and general rules—the prisoner had held the appointment for nearly 20 years—Mr. Beecher was appointed to act where necessary as surgeon—he was asked on the night of his election if he could practise surgery, and he answered "Yes"—it was not on that that he was appointed; all the candidates were asked, so as to be on the safe side—we look on the members who pay 3s. a year as claiming the office of doctor—Mr. Beecher has proved himself fit to attend on the members by his attention and general abilities; we have never been so

prosperous—I have been there before, but only knew him by sight—the prisoner was a member of the Prince Albert and Duchess of Kent Lodges, and entitled to their privileges at the time the letters were written.

Re-examined. These district rules for North London, cover the Prince Albert and Duchess of Kent—Rule 5✗3, that no person should be appointed without showing a certificate from a properly constituted Society (the Society of Apothecaries being named as one) was in force at the time of his election.

By MR. KISCH. These rules have been revised since the election; I believe they were in force when he was elected.

SETTERINGTON. I am Secretary to the Duchess of Kent Lodge—the rules of meeting apply to that as to the Prince Albert—the chairman opens letters and I read them to the meeting, and reply to them if necessary—Mr. Beecher was appointed the last week in January from other candidates.

Cross-examined. The prisoner was an honorary member; he had no privileges—he could come and speak at meetings, but had no vote in the management—the letters were read solely before a meeting of the members—members are under obligation not to divulge anything that takes place, and therefore Mr. Mapleson might think it would never reach anybody outside the lodge, I suppose—we have bye-laws for the lodges which govern the immediate action of the lodge so long as they do not act contrary to the district rules—the rules have been revised since the appointment; the rule that existed then is not quite the same as at present.

A letter was here read from Mr. Bale to the prisoner, dated June 11th, 1885, informing him that Mr. Beecher's appointment was in accordance with Rule 58, and that members would get assistance by applying to him.

GUILTY .— To enter into his own recognizances in 100l. to keep the peace, and to pay 25l. towards the costs of the prosecution.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-933
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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933. JOHN FERGUSON (38) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 8l. 10s., with intent to defraud.

MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. LOUIS Defended.

ARTHUR JAMES SMOUT . I am a butcher, of 31, Connaught Street, Hyde Park—on Saturday afternoon, 8th August, the prisoner brought me this cheque and said, "Can you oblige me with change for Mr. Cohen for this cheque, 9, Hyde Park Terrace?"—I communicated with my book-keeper; she said it was all right—I said, "If you are satisfied it is right give the man the money"—she did so—I paid the cheque in to my banker's, and it was returned marked "No account." (The cheque was drawn on Barnett and Co., 62, Lombard Street, for 8l. 10s., by Lionel D. E. Cohen, dated 6th August, 1885, and endorsed "Lewis Groves.") The endorsement is mine, I trade under that name—I afterwards went to the station and picked out the prisoner from seven men; I knew him at once; I have no doubt he is the man.

Cross-examined. Saturday is rather a busy day with us, but I was not very busy at the time, I was book-keeping behind the glass partition—I had never seen the prisoner before—I swear the prisoner is the man, I am very positive—at the station when called in I walked straight across, caught hold of his coat, and said "This is the man"—I was not

aware that he was a long time a trusted servant in Mrs. Leach's house—I was sent on business there last night—I was not turned out of there for being rather intoxicated.

Re-examined. She is a customer of mine.

FLORENCE CLOUD . I am book-keeper to Mr. Smout—on 8th August the prisoner brought this cheque and wanted change for Mr. Cohen—I told Mr. Smout it was all right—I knew Mr. Cohen lived at 9, Hyde Park Terrace, and I believed this was his writing—the money was given to the prisoner—I heard him speak—afterwards on the 14th I went with Mr. Smout to the police-station, where I saw a number of persons and the prisoner amongst them—he had a different hat on and looked somewhat haggard, but I knew him directly he had his hat off and spoke—I have no doubt whatever that he is the man.

Cross-examined. I did not know Mr. Cohen's signature—I said it was all right as I believed it to be, and paid it—there was no one else in the shop—we were casting up accounts for the week—I hesitated at the station about him—I knew nothing of him before—he was just sufficient time in the shop for me to give him the money.

Re-examined. I had a good look at him then, and have no doubt he is the man.

LIONEL COHEN . I live at 9, Hyde Park Terrace—no part of this cheque is in my writing—I do not bank with Messrs. Barnett and Co.—I know nothing of the prisoner—I authorised no one to sign it.

Cross-examined. My name is only Lionel Cohen—my son lives at the same address—his initials are not Lionel D. E.

CADEY (Detective Sergeant D). I received a warrant on 14th August, and saw the prisoner at a public-house—I said, "I am a police officer, and shall take you in custody for uttering two fictitious cheques, one on Mr. Payne and one on Mr. Grove"—he said, "I know nothing about them"—I took him to the station—he was placed with a number of others, and Mr. Smout and Miss Cloud were sent for.

Cross-examined. I arrested the prisoner on information from this prosecutor and another one—I said before the Magistrate that I could not find evidence to connect the prisoner with the forgery of other cheque-forms about the neighbourhood.

Re-examined. The prisoner answered the description of the man who had taken the cheque to Mr. Smout, and I took him in custody.

GUILTY of uttering. (He was tried last Session for a similar offence and acquitted. See page 591).Six Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-934
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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934. BRIDGET CLARK (47) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing from the person of Winifred Griffiths 9s. 8 1/2 d.Seven Days' Hard Labour. And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-935
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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935. AUGUSTUS LEWIS (26) to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of an order of admission to the Princess's Theatre.— Fourteen Days' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, October 20th,, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-936
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown

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936. THOMAS WILLIAMS (68), and MARY ANN HUTT (35) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, to which HUTT PLEADED GUILTY .


LOUISA HARDING . I am barmaid at the Northumberland Arms, Charing Cross—on 30th September, about 8.55 p.m., Hutt came for a half-quartern of rum in a bottle, and gave me a shilling, which I bent with a little trigger on the counter—she saw that and said "Is that a bad one?"—I said "It is not much like a good one," and broke it—she said "Give me the shilling back, and I will take it where I got it; I have just taken it in the Strand"—I gave her the pieces—she said "I have only got a penny"—I took the rum back and she had a half-pint of ale with the penny, and then went out and Beaumont followed her—I did not see Williams in the house then, but I did a week or fortnight before.

By the COURT. I broke a small piece off the shilling; it curled up at the side, it was very light and greasy.

WALTER BEAUMONT . I live at 36, Fonthill Road, and am a professional swimmer—on the night of 30th October I was in the bar of the Northumberland Arms and saw Hutt come in and give the barmaid a shilling—she examined it and spoke to me—I followed Hutt and saw her pass right by Williams, who was standing three or four yards away on the same side as the public-house—I fetched a policeman and followed them through Scotland Yard, and pointed them out to the constable as they were standing outside the Clarence public-house, in Whitehall—I can't say that they were talking, but they wore as near each other as they could possibly be—they came together as they were crossing the road—I saw the constable take them—they were about three or four yards from me when I pointed them out, but I don't think they could hear what I said—Hutt was arrested as she was going through Scotland Yard a second time—as Williams was going through a second time I pointed him out to a plain-clothes constable and he was arrested.

WILLIAM PENTON (Policeman E 685). On the evening of 30th September I was on duty in Northumberland Avenue and my attention was drawn to some persons there—Williams was one of them; he was standing on the right-hand side of Northumberland Avenue; Hutt joined him and they went through Scotland Yard—I followed them and told another constable to take them—they went as far as the Clarence public-house and then separated, and Hutt came back into Scotland Yard—I called the attention of a plain-clothes constable to Williams, and followed her and saw her put her hand in her pocket and throw something away—I picked it up; it was this bad shilling (produced)—I was about seven yards from her; she could see I was following her—I arrested her, showed her the coin, and said "Do you know anything about this?"—she said "It is not my fault; it is the man who ought to be arrested, he gave me the money."

LOUISA HARDING (Re-examined). This is the coin I broke.

JOHN COHEN (Policeman A 207). On 30th September I was in plain clothes, and Penton called my attention to Williams, outside the Clarence public-house, and I arrested him and took him to where Hutt was in custody, and said to her "Is this the man you mean?"—she said "Yes"—he said "I never saw the woman in my life"—going to the station he tried to put his hand in his left pocket, but I prevented him—I searched him at the station and found in his left pocket this bad shilling, and in his right 1s. 11 1/2 d. in good money—the female searcher handed me this

other shilling—when Williams was charged he said "I never saw the woman before in my life."

ELIZA BANKS . I am female searcher at King Street Police-station, Westminster—on 30th September I searched Hutt and found a bad shilling in her jacket pocket, which I handed to the inspector; it was marked at the station.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are bad, and from the same mould.

Williams in his defence stated that it was a long time since he was charged, that he did not know how the shilling found on him came into his possession, and that he never uttered the other.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction at this Court in September, 1874, in the name of William Biggs, of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin.—

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-937
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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937. PAUL JEYES (52) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


GEORGE TURNSTALL . I am ten years old, and live at 49, Pimlico Walk, Hoxton—about four weeks ago last Friday, about 8 o'clock p.m., I was in St. John's Road—the prisoner came up to me and said "Tommy, I want you"—I went up to him—he said "Will you fetch me a pint of beer in a can, and when you come back I will give you a half-penny?" and pointed up St. John's Road and gave me a half-crown to pay for it—I went to the public-house he pointed out, the Gloucester Arms, asked for the beer, and gave the half-crown to the girl who served me—I didn't get the beer—I went out with the potman to look for the prisoner, but could not find him—I had left him by a tailor's shop two or three shops away—I next saw him at Worship Street, and picked him out from a line of about nine men.

Cross-examined. No one told me it was four weeks last Friday—I keep a diary—it was dark when I saw the prisoner; I was with other boys; none of them are here—I had never seen the man before—people have not asked me to go errands before, but only the lodgers in our house—a policeman took mo to Worship Street—he did not speak a word as we went there—I was taken into a room, and then into another room, where there were a lot of policemen in uniform and a line of men—I looked at them all well, and then picked out this man—the other men had not got beards like the prisoner; some of them did not look like him—the police-man who brought me to the station was in the room all the time.

CATHERINE DONOVAN . I am barmaid at the Duke of Gloucester, St. John's Road—about four weeks last Friday Turnstall came there for a pint of beer, and handed me this half-crown, which I kept, and showed it to Mr. Lewis, and sent the potman with the boy.

Cross-examined. I heard the boy give his evidence at the police-court, and gave mine after his—he said it was about three weeks ago, and I said it was about a fortnight—I now say that it is four weeks last Friday.

JACOB LEWIS . I keep the Duke of Gloucester public-house, St. John's Road, Hoxton—the last witness gave me this bad half-crown about four weeks ago last Friday—I saw Turnstall in the public-house, and sent the potman with him, and I afterwards gave the half-crown to the constable.

ADA BOLTON . I am barmaid at the Blue Posts public-house, Cow Cross Street, Smithfield—the prisoner came to the bar one Saturday about three weeks ago—he had some gin, a bottle, and a pint of beer

in a can, and gave me a half-crown, and I gave him two shillings and four-pence change, and put it on the till—there was no other half-crown there—after he had gone Mrs. Roberts, the landlady, called my attention to it—I then discovered it was bad—this is it.

Cross-examined. This was on 26th September, between 12 and 1 in the day—we are very busy at that time—there are four compartments, and three persons serve there—I had seen the prisoner about twice before, once in the same week—a policeman took me to the police-station—I was taken into a yard, where there were a row of about 10 men—I picked the prisoner out—I am quite sure about him—no men were of his appearance, with beard and moustache.

HARRIETT ROBERTS . My husband keeps the Blue Posts, Cow Cross Street—on 26th September, about 12.30, I was in the bar, and noticed a half-crown on the back of the till—I examined it and found it was bad—I had seen Miss Bolton serving the prisoner just before—there was no other half-crown there—I called her attention to it, and afterwards gave it to the policeman—this is it.

Cross-examined. I forgot to tell the Magistrate that the prisoner was the man I saw in the bar—I went with Miss Bolton to the station to pick him out—she picked him out in my presence, and I then said "That is the man."

Re-examined. I have no doubt he is the man.

ADELAIDE SAUNDERS . I am an assistant to Mr. Davis, a linendraper in the City Road—on 26th September, between 8 and 9 p.m., the prisoner came and bought some waistcoat buttons, price three halfpence, and put down, a half-crown—I rung it on the counter, it sounded all right, but it was very light—I gave it to Mr. Davis, who cut it with a pair of scissors, and asked him where he got it—he said he did not know—Mr. Davis gave him in charge with the coin.

Cross-examined. As soon as it was shown to be bad the prisoner offered to pay for the buttons.

WILLIAM DURRANT (Policeman G 400). On 26th September I was called to Mr. Davis's shop—he showed me a half-crown, and told me the prisoner had tendered it—the prisoner said "I am very sorry; I didn't know anything at all about it being a bad one; I am willing to pay good money"—Mr. Davis charged him, and I took him to the station and searched him, and found a florin and sixpence in silver and fourpence in bronze, good money, on him—I received the half-crown from Mr. Davis and one from Mr. Roberts (produced)—Mrs. Roberts did not go there with the intention of picking him out—Miss Bolton was the only person asked, and she accompanied her, and then said "Yes, that is the man."

Cross-examined. I fetched the little boy, and went with him to the police-court, and left him in the gaolor's room—I have been in the force four years—the gaoler then went and called all the prisoners out of the cells—they were all of different sizes to the prisoner—I have made inquiries about the prisoner—I do not know that he was employed by Mr. Langley, of Hastings, or Mr. Verral, of Beach Street, Hastings—I can learn nothing against him.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are all bad, and from the same mould.

Cross-examined. Moulds may resemble each other very much, but they must differ in some respects.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I did go into Miss Dawson's. I gave the half-crown; I did not know it was bad. I don't know anything about the other cases. I have not seen the little boy before."

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.Eight Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-938
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

938. WILLIAM JOSEPH MOODY (19) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


WALTER WILLIAM PRITCHARD . On 26th September I was in the employment of Messrs. Spiers and Pond, and was in charge of a cigar store, which is sub-let to Messrs. Sales and Ellard, at the Inventions Exhibition—the prisoner came up about a quarter to 12 o'clock, and I heard him ask an attendant for a twopenny cigar—he put down a florin on the flat—I said "This is a bad one," and asked him where he got it from—he said "I am very sorry; is it bad? I changed a sovereign at Poplar; I know where I got it"—being a lad, I gave him the florin back; he turned 12s. or 14s. out of his pocket or purse, gave me 2d., and walked away—my teeth sank into the coin and it felt gritty.

ALICE FREEMAN . I am barmaid at the machinery refreshment bar of the Inventions Exhibition—on 3rd October, 9.50, the prisoner came and had a sandwich, and gave me this half-crown (produced)—I tried it, and bent it, and showed it to the next barmaid, and afterwards gave it to the manager, and gave the prisoner in charge.

VICTOR HAZLETON . I am superintendent of Messrs. Spiers and Pond's bar at the Inventions Exhibition—on 3rd October, about 9.50, I was at the bar—Miss Freeman made a communication to me, and gave me a bad half-crown—I think this is it by the corner being turned up—I said to the prisoner "Where did you get this from?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "Have you got any more like it?"—he said "I don't think so"—I said "Turn out your pockets"—he turned them out on the counter; there was about 18s. in florins and half-crowns—another manager standing next to me said "There is another bad one"—the prisoner said "I did not know it"—he was given in charge with the coins.

JAMES HURST ) Policeman B R 10). On 3rd October, about 9.50 p.m., I took the prisoner in charge—he said "I got this bad half-crown in change of a sovereign, but the two-shilling piece I can't account where I got it"—I searched him at the station and found on him 14s. in silver, good, and a halfpenny in bronze, and half a railway ticket from the Temple Station—Hazleton handed me two bad coins—the prisoner gave his address as 42, Crispin Street, Poplar, and afterwards gave another address to Sergeant Brown.

DANIEL BROWN (Detective Sergeant B). On 4th October I saw the prisoner and said to him "You gave a wrong address last night"—he said "I am very sorry, but I live at 46, Corporation Row, Clerkenwell"—I made inquiries there, and found he lived there about six weeks ago.

Cross-examined. You did not live there up to the day you were charged, but you telegraphed there for some dinner, which was sent to you.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are both bad—a gritty taste is a test of a bad coin.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he was in business for himself and that he got 5s. over a sovereign from his customers, and that the florin must have been in that, and that the half-crown must have been given to him in change for the sovereign.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-939
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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939. CHARLES NUNN (19) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. LLOYD and WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. BLACK Defended.

GEORGE BRUSHTON . I am bar boy at the Old England public-house, Dellamere Road, Harrow Road, Westbourne Park—on October 1st, about 6.30, the prisoner came and asked for a small lemon and a two-penny cigar, price 4d., and put down a counterfeit florin—I picked it up and told him I thought it was bad, and handed it to the other barman, George Hutchings; he put it between the drawer and the counter, doubled it up, and then gave it back to the prisoner, and asked him where he got it; he said it didn't matter, and put it in his pocket, paid with a good one, and went away.

Cross-examined. I was not certain it was bad, before I gave it to Hutchings—I did not say before the Magistrate that I tested the other coin he gave me, but I did so—that was not like the bad one, but I thought if he had one bad one there might be another—the coin was rather light.

GEORGE HUTCHINGS . I am barman at the Old England—I was at the bar on the evening of 1st October with Brushton, and saw the prisoner put down a florin on the counter; Brushton handed it to me, and I tried it with a little drawer under the counter, and it bent easily at right-angles—we tried it first on the pewter counter, it made no impression on that, a good coin would out it—I said, "Do you know where you got it from?"—he said, "No, it doesn't matter"—we returned it to the prisoner, and he paid with a good coin and went out—I spoke to a policeman, and was afterwards taken to Carlton Bridge Police-station, into a billiard-room, and then into another room, and I saw the prisoner amongst eight or nine others, and picked him out.

JAMES HENRY HILL . I am manager of the Burlington Hotel, Burlington Road, Westbourne Park—on 1st October, about 7.15 p.m., the prisoner came in for a small lemonade and a dash of bitter, price 2 1/2 d., and put down a florin—I tried it with a tester attached to my till; it bent right up in two—I took it to the prisoner, and asked him if he had any more of the same description about him—he said, "What do you mean?"—I said, "Anything of the same description, bad florins"—he said "No"—I said, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "I got it from a 'bus conductor in change for a half-crown"—he gave me his address, "Charles Nunn, 36, Princess Road, Notting Hill"—he put down a good half-crown to pay for his drink—I kept both coins and sent for a policeman, marked the coin, and gave it to him—my mark is on it now—I gave him the change for the other half-crown after the constable came, and then gave him in charge.

Cross-examined. Before testing it I was not certain it was bad—a person would very likely take it from a 'bus conductor in the dark—when I told him it was bad he gave his address at once—I have heard since that his mother lives there.

JOSEPH CONWAY (Policeman X 178). On 1st October, about 7.30 p.m., I was called to the Burlington Hotel—I saw the prisoner there—Mr.

Hill gave me this counterfeit florin—I said to the prisoner, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "From a 'bus conductor"—I took him in custody—he said, "All right, constable, I will go with you"—I had hold of his arm going to the station—he said, "Leave go of my arm"—I would not, but kept hold—I found on him a half-sovereign, two separate shillings, and five pence, good money—he gave his address, 35, Princess Road, Notting Hill—his mother lived there, but he does not.

Cross-examined. I did not swear at the police-court that I left go of his arm, it must be an error—my deposition was read over, I did not correct it—I made inquiries at the address he gave—he said he would not give his address because he wouldn't like to disgrace the people he lived with.

HENRY SIMMONDS (Police Sergeant X 25). On 1st October, about 6.45 p.m., Hutchings spoke to a constable—I saw them the same night at 8.15 in the Reserve room at Harrow Road Station—I took Hutchings there, and saw him identify the prisoner from eight others of the same stamp, stature, and appearance—I then told him he would be further charged with uttering a bad florin at the Old England public-house—he said, "It is not me. you have made a mistake this time."

Cross-examined. I have made inquiries, but have discovered nothing against his honesty.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This florin is bad.

Cross-examined. It might have been given to him in the dark by a 'bus conductor, but you would then go by the weight—two soft metals meeting together would not make much impression—a good coin would simply sink into the pewter.

The prisoner received a good character.


FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 20th, 1885.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-940
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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940. WILLIAM HENRY MILLER (17) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a cheque for payment of 5l., with intent to defraud.— Judgment respited.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-941
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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941. SUSAN ELIZABETH DAY (30) to obtaining by false pretences from the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society 30s., with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-942
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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942. JAMES BOWLES DRISCOLL (18) to forging and uttering a cheque for 50l., with intent to defraud the London and Westminster Bank.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-943
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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943. HENRY GIBBES** (52) to stealing three planes and other articles the goods of Edward Frederick Bloomfield, and to two other ✗indictments.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-944
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > penal servitude

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944. DANIEL HAWKINS (22) to robbery with violence on Abraham Gould, and stealing from him a locket, also to assaulting Charles Morton, with intent to rob him, also to a former conviction. Seven Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-945
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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945. HENRY HUGHES (74) to obtaining by false pretences a quantity of furniture, with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-946
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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946. JOHN DAY (20) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Benjamin Amies, with intent to steal.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-947
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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947. FRANCIS BURNS (36) to maliciously damaging a plate-glass window to the amount of 6l. the property of Robert Aldington.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-948
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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948. GEORGE SMITH (55) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Peter Joseph Harris, and stealing therein a cigar case and other articles, and 30s. in money, his property.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-949
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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949. WILLIAM GEORGE MORRIS (28) , Assaulting Charlas Hammond, and occasioning him actual bodily harm.

MR. BROUN Prosecuted.

CHARLES HAMMOND . I live at 34, Craven Street—at 12.30 a.m. on 17th September I was in Covent Garden, waiting for a Mr. Norris to come out of the urinal at the side of St. Paul's Church—the prisoner threw me in the gutter—I saw him waiving something shining in his hand in the air, and I went for a constable—I brought back two with me to King Street—the prisoner was going along with a lot of other men, and I said to the constable "This is the man"—he said "Who will charge him?"—I said "I will"—I thought he was going to stab me—when I came back Mr. Norris was gone—I went to Mr. Norris the first thing in the morning to bring him up to the Court to answer as to throwing me in the gutter, and then I discovered that he had been stabbed.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No one attempted to touch you—we were walking together—we did not strike you, and knock your hat into the mud—I never saw you before—I do not know whether it was your knife or belt I saw shining in your hand—I know an open knife was taken out of your hand at Bow Street Station.

STEPHEN NORRIS . I live at 2, Little Marlborough Street, and at 4, Featherstone Buildings—I was with Hammond, and I left him under the piazza of the church while I went down to the urinal, leaving him sitting on the plinth of one of the columns, and when I came out he got up and joined me, and the prisoner rushed at him, and knocked him over—after that he said "Why don't you go away?" and I called out a yard or two away "Why don't you go your own way and not interfere with us"—a few yards further on, my friend was in the gutter, and the prisoner made a dash at me—I had my umbrella in my hand, and I struck him across the face with it—I do not know what he had in his hand—I called out "This man is murdering me," or "will murder me"—I thought I was being struck by a chain, but I defended myself with my umbrella—I was blinded by blood running down through my hat—here is the knife; it cut right through every thing—I was taken to the hospital, and was 22 days under treatment before the bandages were removed.

DANIEL BURKE (Policeman E 513). I was on duty in Covent Garden, and saw the prisoner about two yards from Hammond with a penknife open in his hand—he was given in charge—he said "It is not I that done it."

TRATMAN WARRINGTON . I am house surgeon and physician at Charing Cross Hospital—on 17th September the prosecutor was brought to me suffering from a cut in his forehead in about a line with his hair, in the middle—this penknife would produce such a wound—he was bleeding slightly—he was afterwards attended by our dresser.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was going home last night when I was struck on the head by a gentleman's umbrella. The knife was not used which was taken from my pocket. I used a belt (produced), and that is what the witness saw flash in the air; the buckle of it. I have a bump on the head which came from the blow from the umbrella."

The prisoner in his defence said that he was going home, and was struck with an umbrella, and drew his belt off and struck the prosecutor, and the man that went to fetch a policeman knocked his hat off in the middle of the road; that one of the witnesses stated it happened by St. Paul's Church, Covent Garden, and another that it was in King Street.

GUILTY of a common assault. (See next case.)

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-950
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

950. WILLIAM GEORGE MORRIS was again indicted for feloniously wounding Stephen Norris, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

STEPHEN NORRIS . On the evening of 17th September I was in Covent Garden Market with a friend—the prisoner pushed my friend—I asked him to go away—he would not, and instantly after I saw my friend in the gutter—I was knocked down, and I said "What did you do that for?"—he struck at me with something; I do not know what—I struck at him and defended myself with my umbrella—he said "I will soon have that b—mush from you," and I handed it to a bystander, so that he should not—I did not know that I had been stabbed until I felt some not fluid running into my eyes—I was smothered in blood—I felt a stunning thud on my head—I was attended during 22 days, when the bandages were removed—it has constantly caused me pain.

DANIEL BURKE (Policeman E 513). I arrested the prisoner—I noticed a knife in his hand, but I saw nothing on it—I did not see the last witness until the morning after at the police-court.

By the JURY. Hammond was perfectly sober.

TRATMAN WARRINGTON . I am house-surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital—the prosecutor was brought in on the 17th, suffering from a cut on his forehead—it was a slight contused lacerated wound, and might have been produced by this knife with a heavy blow—my attention has since been called to the prosecutor's hat—if the wound had been inflicted through the hat it would have diminished the cut.

The prisoner in his defence said that he was struck first, and he merely acted in self defence; that he could not have resisted the two of them as he had only one arm.

TRATMAN WARRINGTON (Re-examined by the JURY ). The buckle would not make the same wound with the hat on; it might make a contused lacerated wound without the hat—I did not notice the prosecutor's condition beyond the cut on his forehead—I dressed that, and he left the hospital.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-951
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

951. JAMES EDWARD WILLIAM CLARKE (32) , Obtaining by false pretences from the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society nine shillings, with intent to defraud.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.

JOHN STATTON . I am chief clerk to the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society—had a member, No 66,230—I produce an envelope marked "A" addressed to the secretary, containing this letter "B." (Dated 29.9.'85, 54, Aldred Road, Kennington Park, stating that he had removed from 181, Camberwell New Road to 54, Aldred Road, Kennington Park, and, being afflicted with pleurisy, and unable to follow his employment as a glass cutter, declared himself on the funds of this Society. (Signed) James Clarke, 66,230.)

He was entitled to the full pay of 18s. a week—he would be entitled to 9s. on 2nd October if he sent a medical certificate—a certificate was enclosed in the letter, which was in thicker writing.

JOHN WILLIAM COLES . I am a medical practitioner, of the Camberwell New Road—there is no other of my name there—this certificate is not my writing, or signed by my authority—I have no knowledge of the prisoner.

WALTER TEMPLETON SKILTON . I am in the office of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society—I produce the sick-pay book—on 2nd October I paid 9s. in respect of member No. 66,230, being a half week—I took a receipt for it, but did not notice who signed "William Clarke."

MR. SURRIDGE. I am in the chief office of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society—the letter and the envelope produced are in the prisoner's writing; also I should say the certificate—the "W. Clarke" against the 9s. in the book is also his signature—he came to the office soon after 6.30—I saw him sign the book—I know him well as a member—I went to Dr. Coles and showed him the signature—I afterwards found the prisoner at about 9 o'clock at the Union Tavern, Camberwell New Road—I think he was playing at cards—I showed him the certificate, and asked him who wrote it—he said "I suppose I am not bound to tell you?"—I asked him if he had been to Mr. Coles—he said "Yes"—I said "Mr. Coles knows nothing of you"—he said he had not been to Mr. Coles for that illness—I told him he would hear from us, and he said "I suppose it will be first exclusion, and prosecution afterwards?"

Cross-examined. I know now that this is your writing—I showed you all the papers—I did not put them so close that you could get them from me—I went to your house to investigate the case—I was told you were not in and had gone to Dr. Coles's—I thought perhaps you were working while on the sick fund.

By the COURT. The visitors called and saw him—they reported him to be ill as far as they could tell—in a case of pleurisy the visitors could not tell whether he was suffering or not.

The prisoner in his defence said that he wrote to the club and also to his employers to let them know he was ill, or he would have been discharged, and by mistake it was sent to the wrong place; that he had no intention of forging any one's writing; that he had 16 years' character and had been for 10 years in his situation.

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.Eight Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-952
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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952. THOMAS HURD (46) , Conspiring with divers other persons to cheat and defraud Hugh William Dewes. Another Count for conspiracy to defraud William Henry Howser.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.

HUGH WILLIAM DEWES . I am a dental surgeon at 10, Cavendish Place—on Saturday, 5th September, I left Victoria for Worthing by the 11.40 train—after taking my seat I got out to get a paper, and on returning I found a man standing at the door—I got into the carriage and took my seat; the man entered and took a seat opposite mine, and another man got in—on arriving at Clapham Junction the prisoner put his head out at the window, and another man got in and sat next to me—the man who joined us last said to one of the men, "How is the time?"—then he put his coat over his knees and produced some cards,

and asked if any one had seen cards like those, and began to shuffle them about and explain the game—one card had the figure of a horse's head upon it, and the other two were blanks—the prisoner joined with the others in the play—they played 1l. points, and sometimes half-sovereigns—the winnings did not always go to the dealer—later on the prisoner came and sat next to me, exactly opposite the dealer—he kept asking me why I would not play—he asked my opinion as to which was the winning card, first, second, or third, and I said "I think it is that," and he said "So do I," and then he would stake on the card—he sometimes lost and sometimes won—he kept inducing me to play—I hit on the right card several times, and he said, "Why don't you join us?"—I said, "I have no wish to, I have seen the game before"—the prisoner still persuaded me to play, and then as an excuse I said I had no money—he said, "Oh, if it is a matter of funds I have been winning a little and I will lend you some"—I said, "You are very kind, but I do not borrow money from strangers, I have no desire to play"—he still pressed me to play, as also the dealer, and to keep them quiet I said, "Very well, as you are so lavish with your money I will take it," and he then lent me five sovereigns—the cards were dealt out, and the dealer said, "I won't take a less stake than 10l."—the prisoner said, "I have 5l., and you put another 5l. and have 10l. between us"—I put the 5l. and the dealer won—the prisoner suggested, to get the 5l. back, that he should lend me 10l.—I said "Very well"—then the stakes jumped up to 20l.—we went another 10l., which also went, and the prisoner lent me another 5l., and we staked with that and won it, and then there was another 5l. and that went, and I think another—it ended by my owing the prisoner 25l.—the dealer won the whole time, and the other men told me how much they had lost; one man said he had lost 28l., I think, and another 6l.—by this time we got to Preston Park—the prisoner asked me where I was going—I said "To Worthing"—he said, "Have you any friends there?"—I said, "I know it slightly, I have been down there once or twice"—he said he was going down there to see some friends he had not seen for 16 years, that he had been in Australia, and was going home to stay with them from Saturday till Tuesday, that he did not know where they lived, and he had no luggage; he said he was going to Worthing for an hour or so—our train was an express, and there was no stoppage between Clapham Junction and Preston Park—a man came to the door and said, "Tickets, please"—I gave mine, and he looked at the other four and never asked them, and the prisoner said "Season"—I thought it strange that he should have a season ticket if he were only going to Worthing for a few hours—the others got out, and the prisoner remained in—on the road to Worthing the prisoner asked me what I was going to do about his money—I said, "You will have it, come to me for it, I have not it with me, I do not carry my cheque-book about"—he asked me if I had 2l. or 3l. I could let him have till Monday, as he had run out—I said I had not—he asked if I was going to stay with friends—I said "Yes," and he asked if they would lend the money—I said it was very doubtful; I said, "I will give you my address, and you give me yours, and you can call for it on Monday; are you living in London?"—he said "No"—I said, "You give me your address wherever it is"—he said, "I have not one at present, I am going down to see these people at Brighton, and don't

know whether I shall see them or not; you had better give me an I O U"—I said, "I shall be very pleased to do that, and if you doubt my word I will let you have my watch and chain as a guarantee of good faith"—he refused that, and produced this envelope for the I O U (produced)—he went with me to my friends at Worthing—no money was lent—he was to come to me in London on Monday morning, and I communicated with the authorities at Scotland Yard—two detectives awaited him, and he was taken in custody—O'Dea asked him what he wanted—he said he wanted 25l. of me—I said, "If you can send for a friend to vouch for you, and you can show it is a genuine loan, I am willing to pay it now."

Cross-examined. I gave a detailed account of the card-playing before the Magistrate—when I said I had no money, I had enough to pay my fare and to play with if I wished to—the value of my watch and chain was about 3l.—he stopped about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at my friend's house at Worthing—I did not see any season-ticket—I am aware that there are weekly season-tickets—I think the races near Worthing were over—I saw no recognition between the prisoner and the others in the carriage—I was reading a paper—I got from the prisoner exactly 25l. in sovereigns; I tried to get a note, but could not—I cannot say whether I could have put the money in my pocket, and not played for it.

Re-examined. It would probably depend on the physical vigour of the four men whether I could have carried off any.

JAMES O'DEA (Detective Officer.) In consequence of a communication from Mr. Dewes I went with Inspector Smith to 10, Cavendish Place, Regent Street, about 11.45 a.m. on Mondays 7th September—the prisoner came into the room where we were and said "I have come for 25l. owing to me by a gentleman living here"—the prosecutor came in and I told the prisoner we were detective officers, and he then repeated that he had come for 25l. owing to him by the prosecutor, and won at cards between Victoria and Worthing—he was given into our custody, and we took him to Marylebone Police-station—I was going to search him when he handed me Mr. Dewes's card and I O U—he refused his address.

JOHN SHORTT (Chief Detective Inspector, Bristol.) I have known the prisoner 15 or 18 years—he may have been to Australia and back, but not stayed there for 16 years.

JOSEPH BENNETT . I am connected with the Birmingham police—I have known the prisoner two or three years—he has not been to Australia during that time.

CAPE CARASSE . I am a widow—I came with my nephew, Henry Howser, a tailor, from Paris on Thursday, 3rd September—we got into the boat-train at Newhaven, second class—the prisoner was in the carriage, and at Lewes two others got in, one of whom, a dark man, afterwards produced three cards, one a blank and the other two picture cards, I believe, with horses on them—I believe five persons played, including my nephew—the dealer always handled the cards—my nephew lost 4l.—I thought at first he had lost only a sovereign, and I was quite surprised when he said he had lost more—I said "I will stand half this loss," when I thought the loss was only a sovereign—they got out at East Croydon and we came on to Victoria.

HENRY HOWSER . I am a Swiss, and am a tailor—I played at cards

with the prisoner and others in the train at the time in question—I lost 4l.—the prisoner staked some—I took a fancy to him—he did not lead me any money.

GUILTY . **— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-953
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

953. ELLEN SIBLEY (29) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 72l. 4s., with intent to defraud.

MR. MEAD Prosecuted.

JOHN HENRY CROWTHER . I am an inspector in the employ of the Scottish Widows' Fund and Life Insurance Society—in June last Mrs. Martha Pugh, who held a policy in the Society for 200l., failed to pay her premium, and made application to the Society for an allowance in respect of the forfeiture, and we wrote her this letter. (Enclosing receipt for forfeiture allowance, and promising to forward her a cheque for 72l. 4s. on her signing the receipt enclosed.) This is the receipt. (Dated 22nd August, 1885, for 72l. 4s., signed "Martha Pugh.") On 22nd August the prisoner called with this receipt so signed, and said she wanted a cheque which she could obtain cash for, as she had to make certain purchases for Mrs. Pugh, from whom she came—I handed her this cheque for 72l. 4s. (produced). It was not endorsed—on 23rd September we received at the office this letter (produced), purporting to come from Mrs. Martha Pugh, in consequence of which we communicated with the police—on 24th September I went to Herne Bay with Sergeant Webb, where I saw the prisoner at some lodgings—I said I had come on a somewhat disagreeable errand connected with a cheque, and said "I presume you know me"—Sergeant Webb had the cheque—she said she did not know me, but I felt convinced as to her identity, and I said "I have a friend down below who would like to see you," and told the landlord to send up Webb, who came up.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said you came for the money and I asked you to wait.

ALEXANDER DICK . I am cashier at the Royal Bank of Scotland, 123, Bishopsgate Street Within—on 22nd August the prisoner came there with this cheque, endorsed—I asked her to write on the back of it "Received cash," which she did in my presence—I cannot say for certain whether she wrote "Martha Pugh" there then—amongst the money I gave her ten 5l. notes—one was No. 68,985.

MARTHA PUGH . I am a widow, residing at 14, Millbank Street, Westminster—the prisoner is my landlady's daughter—I did not receive a letter dated 18th August, enclosing a receipt—I had a policy with the Society, and I was waiting to hear from them—about 23rd September I wrote this letter asking why I had not heard, in consequence of which a gentleman called on me—the signature to this receipt is not mine—I never authorised the prisoner or any person to sign my name or to call and get the money—this is not my endorsement on the cheque.

LOUISA TOMLINSON . I am the wife of George Tomlinson, of the Burlington Arcade—on 3rd September the prisoner came there and bought some things—I received a 5l. note in payment—Mr. Tomlinson paid it into the Bank—I did not take the number; my husband did—he is not here—these are the articles (produced.)

THOMAS MUGLISTON . I am clerk at the Old Bond Street branch of the City Bank—Mr. Tomlinson is a customer—I received this bank-note

from him on 8th September—12l. was paid in, 7l. in gold and that note—I wrote "Tomlinson" on the back.

HENRY WEBB (Police Sergeant.) I went to Herne Bay with Mr. Crowther, and saw the prisoner; I told her I was an officer from London, and came to apprehend her for stealing a cheque for 72l. 4s. drawn by the London Scottish Widows' Insurance Society, Cornhill, and for forging the endorsement of Martha Pugh thereon—she hesitated a considerable time before I could get her to answer any questions—I showed her the cheque and the endorsement on it—she said it was her writing, and how she was tempted to do it she did not know—I asked her for the money; the proceeds of the cheque—she said she had not got it, and when she left the Royal Bank of Scotland a friend of hers, a young lady who she named, was standing outside, and she gave her the whole of the money; that the young lady then left, and went to a shipping office in Leadenhall Street, and that day she believed, she left for Montreal—I asked the name and address of the young woman, and she said she could not give me the address, but she should write to her at Montreal, and her letters were to be kept at Kelly's Library, Vigo Street, Regent Street, and that she had written to her at that address a week afterwards, and the letter had been returned through the dead letter office—I asked her who the young lady was—she said she was of very indifferent character, and she had known her for some years—when I went to the house she was writing in the drawing-room she occupied, and she had a bedroom behind, and I took a police officer's wife with me into the bedroom, and while the prisoner dressed herself to come away, the woman gave me a key, which opened the drawer of a chest in the bedroom belonging to the landlady, saying "She has locked up in the drawer there money and jewellery, and a watch and chain, and so on, and she told me not to tell you a word about it, but there is the key"—I went to the drawer in the prisoner's presence, opened it, and found the articles produced, and eight sovereigns and several other articles—I brought the prisoner to London, and in one of her tin boxes I found four sovereigns—I went to Vigo Street, but found no letters there addressed by the prisoner—they said they kept them a month before they were returned to the dead letter office—I found a savings bank book with 10s. paid in on 26th September, and some pawnbrokers' tickets.

Cross-examined. You said you gave the young woman every shilling.

GUILTY .— Twelve Month' Hard Labour.

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 21st, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-954
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

954. THOMAS HEWINGTON (26) was indicted for the wilful murder of Alexander Hayes Munroe.


THOMAS WHEELER . In September last I was living at 6, Little Pearl Street, a registered lodging-house—on Saturday morning, 5th September, just after midnight, I was in the kitchen—there were three or four others there—the prisoner who was a stranger to me was sitting at a table near the door cutting some twist tobacco with a knife—I

heard some one singing—the deceased, a black man, came in saying Englishmen were dirty dogs; there were four or five Englishmen there—the prisoner was drunk—there was a table between him and the deceased—when he said "Englishmen are dirty dogs," the prisoner got up and went round the table, and made a round-handed blow with his right hand—he struck him about here—before that he said "We are not dirty dogs; we are toffs"—deceased walked a few paces, and then took off his coat and laid it down, and the prisoner sat down, and the people in the kitchen went to the black man's assistance, and they undid his waistcoat and trousers, and found a wound in his stomach—Williams and Cook bathed it—Cook and I took the man to the hospital.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you make a blow at him, but whether the knife was in your hand I cannot say—I did not see him staggering against you.

By the COURT. I did not notice him staggering—this is my cross to my deposition—I must have said the deceased was staggering—the man walked some few yards—the blow came and you both fell together—that is true—the blow might had been with his hand; the wound might have been inflicted when they fell—the man went upstairs—a man helped him off with his trousers, and then he afterwards came downstairs and asked to be taken to the hospital—we got there about 2 o'clock—I did not hear him blame anyone for injuring him—the man's weight was about 12 stone—he was very drunk, and he might have inflicted the wound as he fell—they could see one another when the blow was struck—neither fell right down: they fell towards each other.

JOHN WILLIAMS . I was at this lodging-house—the prisoner was cutting some tobacco at the table—I had spoken to him—he was the worse for drink—I saw the deceased come into the kitchen—I had known him some time before; he was a middle-sized man—he was very drunk—I heard him coming along saying to himself "Dirty dogs," and as he came down the passage into the kitchen head downwards he said "Dirty dogs"—the prisoner got up from where he was sitting with the knife in his hand, and said "Englishmen are all toffs"—he walked a couple of yards—he had this knife in his hand, and struck at the deceased like this—the deceased was staggering about—he never said anything, and I laughed with others, because he was making funny faces—I said "I wonder if it has cut him?" and pulled his trousers down, and found just a mere scratch with a spot of blood on the top of it—we did not think much of it—the deceased took off his coat and laid it down—I attended to him and bathed him, and then said to the prisoner "It has cut him"—he said "Has it?" and assisted me to bathe it, and he was then taken up to bed, and I left—I was sober then—I have not been drunk for a long time.

Cross-examined. I did not say at Worship Street that it was done by accident—I said I did not believe you intended to do him any harm—I did not see him roll against you as he came to the table—he may have fallen on the point of the knife.

By the COURT. The prisoner did not seem angry when he did this; he did not do it to do him any harm—it has been the rule to show the deceased a knife and he would then run away, he was afraid of a knife—I do not think he intended to do him any harm; he intended to touch him.

FREDERICK DRINGER . I am the proprietor of this lodging-house—the deceased has lodged in my house for some years; the prisoner lodged there for three or four nights—on Saturday, 5th September, I saw the prisoner; at that time the deceased had been stabbed—I spoke to all in the kitchen and said, "Every person using a knife ought to have for their natural"—the prisoner then said, "Suppose it was an accident?"—I said, "How could that the occurred?"—he said, "I did it, and I am very sorry, and I am very miserable"—the deceased and the prisoner to the best of my knowledge had been on friendly terms—I know they had been in the habit of showing him a knife and frightening him, it was a common occurrence; he used to run away.

Cross-examined. I expressed sympathy with the man, but I never inquired at the hospital about how he was injured.

CHATLOTTE GOODWIN . I am nurse at the London Hospital—I was there on the morning of Saturday, 5th September, between 2 and 3 o'clock, when this coloured man was brought in—he remained under my care—the doctor saw him about 5 a.m.—he remained under my care from the time he was brought in—the prisoner came to the hospital on the following Monday, about 4.20, before the deceased died, and asked me, as he was going out, if he was dangerously ill—I said yes, I thought he was—he then told me, as if he was speaking of another man, "A man was sitting at a table, and cutting some hard tobacco, and the injury came, in rolling about"—I said, "How very sorry the man must be"—he said "Yes," and went away—as he was going out at the door he came back and said, "Nurse, I must tell you I did it"—I said, "How sorry you must be, I don't believe you"—he said, "Yes, I did, but it was an accident."

Cross-examined. The deceased was quite conscious when this conversation was going on—the deceased told me every night that it was an accident.

WALTER BLACKSLAND . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was admitted there on Saturday, 5th September, and I saw him next morning between 10 and 11 o'clock—he lived till 4.20 on Monday, 7th September—he was suffering from a wound in the stomach—I made a post-mortem examination, and found that the wound had penetrated a part of the small intestine—it was half an inch long; the cut was about a quarter of an inch long, and irritating matter had exuded into the cavity of the stomach, which set up inflammation and caused death—the wound might have been produced with this knife—death was caused by peritonitis, which was caused by the wound.

WILLIAM ROLF (Police Sergeant.) On 9th September I went to 10, Star Street, Commercial Road, and found the prisoner in bed—I said to him, "I want you for stabbing Alexander Munroe on the 5th, you know he is dead"—he said, "I am glad you have come, I am sorry for poor Alexander; when I stabbed him I was cutting some hard tobacco on the table; he came in very drunk in the lodging-house; I did bind him after he was stabbled; I went to the London Hospital and saw him; I told the nurse I stabbed him, but that it was an accident"—the deputy of the house afterwards handed me this knife (produced)—I have the deceased man's clothes here; the cut was through waistcoat and shirt.

The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he was cutting some tobacco, and on getting up with the knife in his hand

the deceased tumbled against it, and that he had no reason to injure him at they had always been on the best of terms.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-955
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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955. JANE FUDGE (46) , Feloniously throwing corrosive fluid upon George Mansfield, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. DIXON Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

GEORGE MANSFIELD . I live at 41, Richmond Road, Caledonian Road, and am a fish salesman—I have known the prisoner ever since we were boy and girl together; she is, I believe, unmarried—I became intimate with her during the last three years—on the morning of 29th September, about 10 o'clock, I went into the Swan public-house, Fish Street Hill, with the prisoner, Mrs. Niell, and her child; I called for two or three cups of coffee—the prisoner refused to allow me to pay for any for her—I asked her what I owed her visit to—she said she wanted 10s.—I asked her what she wanted it for—she said 5s. for a week's rent for her room, and 5s. for a week's notice—I was not living in her room: I occasionally visited her—I told her she would have no more money out of me, as she had had 13l. 15s. within three months, besides the rent—I then said that I must return to my business, because I had not finished—with that Mrs. Niell halloaed out "Look out, George, she has got the bottle"—I saw the prisoner with a bottle in her hand—she said "Take that then," and threw it—I tried to knock it out of her hand with this hand, and it went up my arm—I did not succeed in knocking it out, and she threw the remains of the bottle in my face—I made a hit or two at her, but I was advised to leave her alone and run to the hospital, and I did so—I have heard her make threats several times, weeks before, in blackguard words—she said she would ruin me first; she would blind me with vitriol, and I should then go about begging with a dog, for the rest of my life—on the Monday before this occurrence I went into the Monument public-house with my brother and two friends, and saw the prisoner there—I saw a bottle in her hand in a handkerchief—she was trying to get the cork out, and my brother halloaed out "Look out, George, she has got a bottle"—I ran out, and she ran after me.

Cross-examined. Bennett and Thomas were there when she was trying to get the cork out, but they were not called before the Magistrate—I am married, and live with my wife—about two years ago I took a house for the prisoner—I have been improperly intimate with her and Mrs. Niell—it was for the rent of this room that she asked me for that money—I did not turn her out of the house in which I had been living with her—her lodgers gave her the money to pay the rent of this house—I had gone to no expense in the matter—I took this room that I might have connection with her—I have known Mrs. Niell two years, during that time I have been improperly intimate with her—the first solicitor who appeared for me at the police-court was Mr. Northfield; he was drunk, and made a laughing stock of himself—he was my solicitor when the prisoner was committed for trial; I afterwards changed—the manager of the public-house was there when this vitriol was thrown; he had some thrown on him—I don't know whether he saw the whole thing—the first lot of vitriol went all over my face, there was no part which had not some on—after that I struck the prisoner two blows—I know she attends sales; she buys boys' clothing, but very rarely jewellery—she has bought one or two articles.

Re-examined. The prisoner was not living with any one at the time I became improperly intimate with her—she had been away from her husband six years.

ELLEN NEALE . I live at 16b, Broad Street Buildings, and am a widow—on 29th September, about 10 a.m., I was with Mansfield in the Swan public-house, Fish Street Hill—the prisoner went in with us—I had a cup of coffee there—I heard the conversation between the prisoner and prosecutor—the prisoner then took a bottle out of her bag—I heard her take the cork out, and before she threw it I said "She has got something in the bag"—he tried to knock it out of her hand, but knocked it more into her lap, and then she did it again, and it went over his face and over the place—on the previous Sunday the prisoner came to my lodging when Mrs. Hunt was there, and asked me to send the children out of the room, and I did so—she there said that for the injury he had done her and broken her home up and injuring her children she would have revenge, and she swore a terrible oath that she would blind him; that she had got the stuff at home, and if she had it with her she would have thrown it at him instead of the boots, which were in a parcel in her hand, which she had thrown at him before—I believe they were her own boots—she was at my lodgings about an hour.

Cross-examined. Mrs. Hunt saw the prisoner, but she was not in the room when she used the expression—I asked her to leave the room because I wanted to speak to the prisoner—I did not know then the nature of the business—I knew Mrs. Hunt was outside listening—I opened the door and saw her standing there, and asked her to go away—I did not say at the police-court that the prisoner had threatened to blind him, I did not think it was material; nor did I tell the solicitor—the prosecutor did not strike her a blow before he got the vitriol in his face, but he tried to knock it out of her hand—she held her bag in one hand and the vitriol in the other—I did not see the bottle plainly; it is a very dark public-house.

MARY ANN HUNT . I am the wife of Richard Hunt, of 2B, Broad Street Buildings—on a Sunday in September I was at Mrs. Neale's apartments and saw the prisoner there—she ordered the door to be shut and said "May the Lord perish me, I will blind him"—she said that if she had the stuff with her that morning she would have thrown it at him, instead of the boots.

Cross-examined. I have mangled for Mrs. Neale twelve months; she pays me—I was inside her street-door, close to her room-door, listening outside the door; she told me to go, and I went—we went into the room where the prisoner was; she asked for a locket and chain, and Mrs. Neale asked me to go, and I went—I left the room when Mrs. Neale came out for the locket; I was not in the room until then—I was standing outside the room waiting for an answer; I was not listening—Mrs. Neale brought me here to-day; I still work for her—I did not read about this in the newspapers—she never said a word to me about it.

JOHN MANSFIELD . I am the prosecutor's brother—on 28th September I was in a public-house with him and saw the prisoner there—he left about half a minute after she came in, and she ran after him—he said to me "Jack, she has got something."

FREDBRICK CHILD , M.R.C.S. I am acting house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—on 29th September Mansfield was brought there—his face and

arm were smothered in white powder, under which I saw streaks running down his face and arm—they were caused by corrosive fluid, which I believe to be vitriol—I saw his coat; it was charred—the fluid injured him, and if it had gone into his eye it would have blinded him; it went near his eyes.

Cross-examined. His health is not permanently affected—nitric acid would have produced a different appearance—hydrochloric acid might have produced the injuries.

WILLIAM HENRY FEAR (City Policeman 735). I took the prisoner—I told her the charge; she said "It is done now, and I am sorry it is done."

Cross-examined. She was rather excited.

Witness for the Defence.

WALTER BROWNFIELD . I am manager at the White Swan public-house—on Tuesday, 29th September, I was behind the bar and saw the prosecutor and two women come in—I was not there when the vitriol was thrown—I came in when I heard screaming and separated the prisoner and prosecutor—the man was striking the prisoner—in the struggle I received some vitriol on my shirt—I did not see any bottle.

Cross-examined. The man was striking her on the face with his fist.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 21st, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-956
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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956. RICHARD COLEMAN (24) , Robbery with violence on James Reaney, and stealing a watch-chain and coin, his property.

MR. A. METCALFE Prosecuted.

JAMES REANEY . I am a fruit salesman, of 14, Russell Street, Covent Garden—on 12th October, at 10.50 p.m., I was under the piazza of Covent Garden, going home, and was surrounded by a number of men—the prisoner was in front of me—he struck me in the stomach with his fist and kicked me on my shin, and then snatched at my watch-chain and dragged it away with a spade guinea attached—the chain broke at the swivel and left my watch in my pocket—this is the chain and guinea—I called out "Stop thief" and "Police," and tried to grab at him—I was tripped up by one of his companions, but did not lose sight of the prisoner, who went through a row of cabs—when I got through them I saw him in custody, about 20 yards from where I was robbed—I had kept him in sight the whole time—I charged him with stealing my watch and chain, but I afterwards found my watch in my pocket—two days after my chain was shown to me again.

GEORGE GOLDING . I am a carter—on 12th October I found this chain in Russell street, near the piazza, in the middle of the road—I saw a report in a paper, and gave it to the owner.

CHARLES HEASMAN (Policeman E 623). On 12th October I saw Mr. Reaney running after the prisoner, whom I never lost sight of—he went under a carriage—I went behind the carriage on the other side, and turned him again—when he came back on the other side I took him in custody—I am sure he is the man Mr. Reaney was after—Mr. Reaney's calling out "Stop thief" attracted my attention.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he heard a cry and was passing through the cabs to see what was the matter, when the constable arrested him; and asserted his innocence.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** †to a conviction of felony on 3rd December, 1883.— Twenty-one Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-957
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceMiscellaneous; Miscellaneous > sureties

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957. ALFRED DYBALL BROWN, Unlawfully publishing a false and defamatory libel of and concerning William Willicome.

MR CLUER Prosecuted.

WILLIAM WILLICOME . I am a grocer, of 48, Hampden Street, St. Pancras—the prisoner lives at the opposite corner in the same street—he is an oil and colourman—I sell over 100 articles which the prisoner sells—on 8th July I was summoned to Clerkenwell Police-court for putting a weight on the wrong side of the scale—I was convicted and fined 50s. and 2s. costs—this report appeared in the Morning Advertiser on 9th July: "William Willicome, grocer, 48, Hampden Street, was find 50s. and 2s. costs for selling sugar from a scale in which there was a quarter of an ounce weight beneath the bag"—some of these pink bills were brought into my shop the same night, 9th July, and some of these white ones the next day—I did not see the prisoner in possession of any. (These were handbills containing a reprint of the report in the Morning Advertiser.)

Cross-examined. I have been in my present shop about 8 weeks—I have been an old inhabitant, but left and have come back—I took the school children for a treat in my four-horse brakes two days before I was fined on the 8th—on the 10th I applied to the Magistrate for a summons against the prisoner—he advised me to take proceedings in the County Court—my solicitor advised me to take proceedings here—it was a month after my first application that I received notice to attend the police-court—the Magistrate was out of town—eventually I got a summons—I do not know of one bill being given away after the summons was granted—plenty of people have got them now.

MARIAN GRACE . I am married, and live at 44, Hampden Street, four doors from the prosecutor's—on 10th July Mr. Brown gave me this pink bill between 9.30 and 10 p.m.—he exhibited them from door to door—he spoke to two gentlemen, and I came and told the prosecutor.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he thought it was his duty to warn the poor people in the neighbourhood by distributing the bills, and asserted that he could gain nothing by so doing, because their businesses were entirely different.

GUILTY . To pay 10l. towards the costs of the prosecution, and enter into recognisances in 20l. to keep the peace.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-958
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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958. JOHN WESTON (20) , Breaking and entering a chapel, and stealing money, the property of Messrs. Bowrer and others, the deacons of the chapel.

JAMES SHEPHERD . I am chapel-keeper at the Wesleyan Chapel, Casland road—on Wednesday, 16th September, about 1.20, I left the chapel locked up and safe, and went home to dinner—I returned about 2.40, and found some one had entered through a window, which I had left open, in the basement—I unlocked the door and went through, and found the ladder just inside it removed to the schoolroom window over the door—steps go from the schoolroom up into the chapel, and that was the way he must have got in—the basement wiudow must have opened

further; I did not leave it open wide enough for anybody to get through—all the cupboards in the chapel had been disturbed and the clothes boxes upset—this box from a shelf in the vestry, and these two from the lobby the chapel, had been broken and the money taken out—the property belongs to the trustees—Mr. Bowrer is treasurer of the trust—I went into one of the four rooms in the basement, I cannot say I went into all—I don't think it is very possible that there was anybody inside the building—no one could hide in the chapel without my seeing them.

WILLIAM ARTHUR TACHELL . I am an apprentice—on Wednesday, 16th September, I was passing the Wesleyan Chapel about 5.30—I saw two men come from the chapel door that leads down to the Sunday-school, the front door by the side of the main door—they walked down, jumped over the rails, walked past me, and then ran—I ran after them, but they turned a corner and I lost sight of them—I am quite sure the prisoner is one of them—I gave information—they had nothing in their hands, but held their hands to their pockets as if they had something in their pockets—I was afterwards taken to the police-station and identified the prisoner among 12 or 14 men.

JAMES SHEPHERD (Re-examined by the COURT ). I got back at 20 minutes past 3 to the chapel; it was all done then—I had no reason for believing two men were concealed then—the things were disturbed and the men gone—I left the premises after 10 minutes, leaving it fastened, and went to the police-station and gave notice—I did not return to the chapel till the boy's sister ran and told me two boys had been seen leaving.

Witnesses for the Defence.

MARTHA WESTON . I am the prisoner's mother; he lives with me—on Wednesday, 16th September, he came home about 2.40, and did not go out till after 10 o'clock next morning.

Cross-examined. He slept from 5 till half-past 8 o'clock, and then his sister came and he woke, and was very cross I had not woke him up to go with his sister, and he went to bed—he was out of employment—I noticed particularly he came home at 20 minutes past 3 o'clock, because he generally comes home to dinner between 12 and 1 o'clock, and if he does not he comes home about 5 o'clock—I have a clock—we live two miles from Casland Road, and keep a small general shop—I was in and out of the shop all the time—my husband is an invalid and not able to attend to it.

By the COURT. I could not say what time he came home to dinner the day before—the day after it was about 12 o'clock; he did not go out then till 10.30—I could not say what time he came home on the Monday—I heard about his being taken into custody; he wrote to me, and I went to Worship Street and learnt what he was charged with.

MARTHA WESTON . I am the prisoner's sister, and live with my father and mother—what my mother said is quite correct—my brother came home about 2 40—I did not ask him what made him so late, nor did I hear my mother do so—he was out of employment for three or four weeks.

Cross-examined. I looked at the clock directly he came in—I am sure it was 3.20—I did not say before the Magistrate 3.30—I said between 3.15 and 3.30—I made no complaint about my deposition not being correct.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he came home about 3 o'clock, and did not go out again till 10 o'clock.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-959
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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959. EDWARD ACKERMAN (36) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Tavener, and stealing 116 rings, lockets, and other goods.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.

THOMAS TAVENER . I live at 131, High Street, New Brentford, and am a pawnbroker and jeweller—on the night of 13th September, about 11 o'clock, I fastened up my shop with two bolts and a chain, and left everything safe—in the window were a quantity of wedding rings, keepers, rings, and lockets, which I valued at about 50l.—I went to bed, and was awoke next morning at 4 o'clock—I found a piece had been cut out of the shutter, the glass broken, and a hand had been put through, and by reaching left and right had cleared the window—I swear to these two rings as having been in the window—I identify them by one having a stone out, and the other has the box glass out—they were secondhand—I only identify those two—my rings were on cards—I lost 116.

Cross-examined. I had more like them, but none exactly like those, I will say positively—it is a common ring; nine carat—I should sell thorn at 10s. 6d. each—I have been 30 years in the trade—I swear positively these are mine—I never had the slightest doubt in the world about it—I never told anybody I had the slightest doubt.

By the COURT. I lost 116 rings, 20 lockets, 18 pairs of earrings—these two rings are the only portion of the stolen property I have since seen.

STEPHEN GUNNER (Detective T.) About 10.30 on 19th September I examined these premises—an entry had been effected by cutting a piece out of the shutter and breaking the glass—I circulated a description of the property, and on the Monday week following I went to 21, Gloucester Road, Acton, about three miles from Brentford, with Detective Cluny—that was the prisoner's house—I saw his wife there—I searched, and on the second floor front room found these 57 rings and 16 pairs of earrings—they have nothing to do with this case—afterwards Cluny found this case.

Cross-examined. I went in consequence of these two rings having been given to Cluny, and hearing that the prisoner's child had given them to someone, otherwise I had no reason to suppose he had anything to do with it—we told his wife we were police officers, but not our reason for coming; she made no demur to our searching—we found these in the second-floor front bedroom, some in a box and some in a writing-desk—she took us over the house—the prisoner was not present then—after finding the rings we went and saw the prisoner at his stables in the brickfields—he is a carman, and has two horses and carts—Cluny told him who we were—Cluny had the two rings; we showed them to the prisoner, and said they had been identified by Mr. Tavener—he said he had brought them from South Africa about three years ago—I told him I should take him in custody—he said that he knew nothing whatever about it—I went back to his house with him, and in his presence his wife said, "My husband brought them from South Africa about three years ago"—she had said that before when we were alone with her—Cluny asked him from whom ho had bought them in Africa, and he said of a travelling Jew.

SAMUEL CLUNY (Detective X.) On 19th September I received these two rings from Jane Atkinson—I went to Tavener's shop about 5.45 the same evening and showed him the two rings, and he identified them—I then went with Gunner and another detective on Sunday morning to 21,

Gloucester Road, Acton, where the prisoner lives—I found this case of rings on the first floor, and I went down with Mrs Ackerman and Gunner, and saw him find these earrings—I went into a field adjoining the rear of the house, and told the prisoner I should take him into custody for committing a burglary at 131, High Street, Brentford—he said he knew nothing about it—I told him I had found a quantity of jewellery—he said, "Yes, that is all mine; I bought that of a travelling Jew in South Africa three years ago"—I showed him the two rings—he said, "Those are my property"—I took him to the station—all the jewellery was placed in front of Tavener, and he picked out these two rings.

Cross-examined. Every facility was offered to us by the wife and himself to search—I showed her these two rings first, and she said she had others—I told her we had information that she had a quantity of jewellery in the house—I know the prisoner was in South Africa about three years ago—as far as I know he is a hard-working respectable carman, with two horses and a cart.

MATILDA HICKS . I live at 19, Gloucester Road, Acton—on Monday, 21st September, the prisoner's daughter, Elizabeth Ackerman, gave me these two rings at 10.30 a.m.—about 11.30 she gave me two more—I kept the first two till the Friday, and then gave them to Jane Atkinson, who gave me a halfpenny for the two.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-960
VerdictGuilty > insane
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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960. WILLIAM BURCHETT (36) , Unlawfully wounding Alfred Burchett, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.

WALTER BURCHETT . I am the prisoner's son, and am 12 years old—I was living with my father at 94, Rodney Road—on the evening of 15th August I, my brother Charles, and my father were in the room together—Charles had the baby, whose crying seemed to bewilder my father—he pushed me down—I and Charles left the room and went into the next—I came back into the room, when my father struck me on the head with the poker, and I remembered nothing more till I found myself lying in a pool of blood by the door—I did not see my father take up the poker, nor did I see him with it—I have been nine weeks last Saturday in the hospital.

CHARLES BURCHETT . I am the prisoner's son, and am eight years old—on 15th August I was with my father, brother, and the baby in the kitchen—the baby kept crying; my brother took it; my father pushed him down, and then my brother got up and shut me in the next room—I came in again, and then saw my father get a poker up and strike my brother once on the head with it—my brother fell down and was bleeding—my father said "He is dead," and told me to leave the room, and I went downstairs to baby—my father did not appear to have been drinking.

ALFRED FRANK WHITWELL . I am house physician at the Great Northern Central Hospital—on the evening of the 15th I saw Walter Burchett, who was brought to the hospital in a very feeble condition, prostrate from loss of blood and an injury to the head—I found eight lacerated scalp wounds, and a fracture of the skull at the base of each wound—the fracture at the back of the head was very much comminuted, and some small pieces of bone were removed by the house-surgeon—there were two small flesh wounds on the left arm, and bruising extending

towards the hand, and one bruise on the left buttock—I should say the wounds would have been caused by a poker—the boy is likely to get better now.

By the COURT. The wounds were in themselves highly dangerous—for three weeks at least I should think his life was in danger—he is still an inmate of the hospital—he will not remain there much longer—we shall send him to a convalescent home.

CHARLES SMITHSON . I live in the same house with the prisoner—on the evening on 15th August a communication was made to me, in consequence of which I went out of my room—I saw the prisoner in a very excited state; some of the children were in the room, and I was afraid he would hurt them; I saw nothing in his hand—I inquired of the neighbours who had run into the street, and when I came back upstairs I saw the prisoner brandishing something in his hand, and he appeared to be breaking up the furniture—I heard him ask the little boy Walter to go into the next room, saying he would not hurt him—the boy said he was going to look for his mother—I sent for a constable, and as the constable got to the door of the room the prisoner said "I have killed him; there he is"—after the father had been taken, the boy crawled along the passage to me—his head was matted with blood—he said "My father has knocked my brains out"—I took him to the hospital in a cab.

GEORGE WHITE (Divisional Surgeon.) On 15th August I saw the prisoner at the Caledonian Road Police-station—he was in a very excited state, talking incoherently, and evidently not knowing what he had done—it was not the effect of drink—on Sunday I saw him again in the cell; he was then very much in the same condition, and was quite unaware of what he had done to his son.

By the COURT. I don't believe he was responsible at the time—he has been in a lunatic asylum before, and confined at Bethlehem—I do not think he was in a condition to plead—he has been in strait waistcoats since he has been at the House of Detention, and in a padded room—I don't think he understands what is going on now—he was quite unconscious when I saw him at the station.

JOHN WELLESLEY (Policeman Y 596). On the evening of 15th August I was called to Rodney Road, where I saw the prisoner standing; in one of the back rooms on the second floor with the remains of a poker in his hand against the door, and looking in a very wild state—I went into the room to arrest him—I saw the boy lying on the floor—I said "What have you done to that poor boy?"—he said "There he lies; I have killed him"—I seized the poker out of his hand, and closed with him—I got him downstairs, and took him to the police-station—he was not in drink, but appeared excited—it was a Saturday night.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I remember nothing whatever about it."

Witnesses for the Defence.

CHARLES REVILL . I am the prisoner's brother-in-law—four years ago he was taken to the Highgate Infirmary, where they had to put a strait jacket on him—last Christmas he was at Bethnal Green Lunatic Asylum, where he tried to cut his throat—his brother was in Colney Hatch Asylum for five years, and died there—the prisoner has been insane off and on for 11 years—at Clerkenwell his face was very bruised.

LLEWELLYN ARTHUR MORGAN , M.B., M.R.C.S. I am Surgeon to Her Majesty's House of Detention—I have had the prisoner constantly under my observation since 17th August—he suffers from periodical forms of insanity, connected with epilepsy—since he has been in the House of Detention he has had an attack of most acute mania, and been most violent.

Cross-examined by MR. HUGGINS. He has had lucid intervals, when he knew perfectly well what he was about, but he did not remember what he had done before—he is a man totally unfit to be at large.

The Jury found the prisoner GUILTY, but considered he was insane at the time of the commission of the offence.To be kept in custody during Her Majesty's pleasure.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-961
VerdictsNot Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > no evidence

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961. CHARLES GEORGE ROBINS (23) and CHARLES MUGGERIDGE (18) , Robbery with violence on Septimus Hawksford, and stealing 1s. 8d. his money.

MR. MOON Prosecuted; MR. PARKES Defended.

SEPTIMUS HAWKSFORD . I live at Queen Place, Notting Hill, and am a lather—on Saturday night, 10th October, I had been to the Marylebone Theatre—I left there about five minutes to 12 and went to a public-house, where I saw the two prisoners—they followed and asked me for money—I told them I had none—Muggeridge pinned my arms behind me and Robins took 1s. 8d. out of my pocket and my handkerchief, and then hit me on the nose and in the mouth, and I fell—I believe Muggeridge kicked me after I was down in the head—I became unconscious and remember no more till I got to the station-house—I then identified both prisoners at once from a group of persons—I had never seen them before.

Cross-examined. I might have had three or four glasses of ale at the theatre—I only went into one public-house on my way home—I was not sober, nor drunk—I said at the police-court I was overcome with drink—I spoke to the prisoners in the public-house, but did not drink with them; they followed me out—I did not push against them, nor did one of them ask me where I was coming to.

Re-examined. I swore at the police-court these were the men that knocked me down, and I say so now.

LACHLAN MCARTHUR . I am a 'bus-driver—on Saturday night, 10th October, I heard cries of murder as I turned from the Royal Oak coming to Paddington Green—before I got to Gloucester Terrace, in Bishop's Road, I pulled up and turned round to see what was going on—I saw the prosecutor on his hands and knees on the ground, and Robins threw him on his back, and having done that walked away to the corner of Trinity Church—after Robins had thrown the prosecutor on his back Muggeridge struck him—Robins said, while standing by the church gate, "If you don't b—well want to come along home alone, you let him come home by himself"—I drove on hearing that—going over Bishop's Road Bridge an omnibus following trotted past me, and I saw the two prisoners on the footboard, and I saw the inspector come up and take them off the steps.

Cross-examined. The prosecutor was not sober—I saw him at the station afterwards—I saw the prisoners take nothing—they would have

jumped on my omnibus, but my conductor stood on the step—the other omnibus was going in the same direction as mine.

JOHN CARR . I am an omnibus conductor—at 12.30 on Saturday night I was with my omnibus in Bishop's Road going over the bridge towards Trinity Church—the two prisoners jumped on my omnibus and asked if I went to Paddington—I said "No; Church Place"—they said that would do—they offered me some snuff; I said I did not take it—an omnibus was just behind, which we had just passed—the prisoners were taken off the footboard by an inspector, who came from Paddington Station—they were laughing over something when they came.

Cross-examined. I could not say what for.

ALFRED TAYLOR SCHOFIELD . I am Divisional Surgeon of the X Division—on Sunday morning at 1 o'clock I was called to the police-station, where I saw the prosecutor suffering from two wounds in the face, one small and superficial on the nose, and the other a cut on the upper lip, bleeding at the time—he was also suffering from contusions at the back of the head; there was a large bump at the time—they were most probably caused by blows or kicks.

Cross-examined. Possibly they might have been caused by falls on a stone pavement, but not probably—I should not think they were sufficient to make a man unconscious when inflicted—if drunk he would become unconscious sooner—he was not unconscious when I saw him—he was not drunk and incapable; he could walk—he was the worse for liquor.

GILES (Chief Inspector X). On Sunday morning, 11th October, I had information, and followed the omnibus and took the two prisoners into custody—I afterwards fetched the prosecutor, who identified them—on Robins I found 1l. in gold, 2s. in silver; on Muggeridge 10s. 6d. in silver and 7d. in bronze—Robins said when I was taking him to the station "What is this for? I know nothing of it"—Muggeridge said nothing—I had not told them the charge, I had not ascertained it then.

Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoners—I have made inquiries about them and find Muggeridge bears an excellent character—Robins had done no work for three months previous, or only little odd jobs for his uncle.


There was another indictment against the prisoners for assault occasioning actual bodily harm. No evidence was offered.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-962
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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962. HENRY LLOYD (60) , Stealing a jacket and thirty-five pieces of fur trimming, the goods of Samuel Kosminski.

MR. BAYLISS Prosecuted.

JACOB ROSENBAUM . I am a milliner and fancy draper at 42, Brush-field Street—the prisoner has called at my place for about the last ten months as an agent for frilling—on 28th September he brought a length of beaver fur and said "I know Mrs. Rosenbaum wants a length for her jacket if you would like to buy it"—he showed it as a sample——nothing was said as to where it came from—I said I would see if it was required—next day, Wednesday morning, I had a conversation with Mr. Kosminski, and on Wednesday afternoon I said to the prisoner "I have a buyer, a furrier, who will buy the lot of you, but will only buy it if you will bring down the bulk for him to see—I made an appointment for him to come and see the bulk at my place—he said there were 72

yards of beaver and 5 1/2 dry minx skins and a sealskin jacket—he asked 6s. a yard for the beaver. 10l. 10s. for the jacket, and for the minx skins he wanted an offer; it came to about 35l. altogether—the prisoner brought the minx skins about 1 o'clock on Thursday morning—I was communicating with Kosminski and showing him the samples at the time—the prisoner left a message he would call again at 3, and at 3.30 he called; Kosminski was then at my place in the back parlour—I said to the prisoner "I offered it to Mr. Kosminski, and that is some of the property that was stolen from him; you had better tell me all you know about it"—he said he got them from a man in Whitecross Street supposed to be a job buyer—I called in Mr. Kosminski, who asked him where he got it from—he said again in Whitecross Street he thought the name was Taylor as that was the name on the signboard over the door—he did not say how he came to sell them as agent—I went to the police-station—he had never sold furs to me before.

SAMUEL KOSMINSKI . I am a manufacturing furrier, in partnership with my brother in Aldersgate Street—these furs and sealskin jacket are part of a large quantity of furs stolen from my premises on 5th August last of over the value of 150l.—the beaver was in two bits, one at about 10s. a yard and the other 6s. 6d., these are worth altogether 30l.—the minx was worth 3s. to 4s. a skin; these are worth about 8l., and the sealskin jacket is worth about 10l., so that this is about 50l. I have recovered.

WILLIAM CROSS (City Detective). About 7 p.m. I saw the prisoner at Snow Hill Station—shortly before 7 on 1st October I went with him to White Cross Street from what I heard him say—when there I asked him to point out the place where he had received the fur from—it was a small jeweller's shop at 160, Whitecross Street, with the name of Taylor over it—I told him to go inside and see if Taylor or the man that sent him with the skins was there—he went in, a female behind the counter spoke to him, and he came out—I said "Where is the man?"—he said "He is not in"—I said "You know where to find him, I suppose"—he said "I know the public-house he uses"—we went round St. Luke's to different public-houses in search of Taylor, the man who had sent him with the skins—we got into the City Road—I said "You must have made some appointment with this man when you received these skins this afternoon"—he said "No I haven't"—I said "Is there no other house he that he used that you know?"—he said there was one in Nile Street—I saw two uniform men at the corner of Eagle Street, and asked them to follow me up, as I knew the neighbourhood—the prisoner went into a public-house, but came out again—we went back to Whitecross Street again, and I told him he had better go inside the shop and see if he was there—he went inside, and spoke to the same female for a minute or two, and then came out—I said "Is he in?"—he said "No"—I said "You must have an appointment somewhere"—he said he was sure to find him—we went round the same neighbourhood again till we got to the Eagle again—I said "This won't do for me; if you don't tell me where you made the appointment with this man, you must have had an appointment with him when you took the skins this afternoon, I shall take you back to the station"—he said "If I do I shall be in the same position as if I did not tell you"—I said "If you don't tell me where you had the appointment to-day I shall take you

back"—he said he had made an appointment with Taylo✗r in Whitecross Street, and if he was not there at 6 o'clock he was to meet him at this house in Nile Street at 8.30—it was just on 8.30—I told the uniform men to follow me, and went to the public-house with the prisoner, who went in; I followed, and did not lose sight of him—he spoke to a man in the parlour, and several others round him—I said "I want to speak to you for a moment," but the other man was gone before the words were out of my mouth—I afterwards found the man who made the sudden bolt was Taylor, who kept the shop in Whitecross Street—I was with the prisoner an hour and a half before he told me where the appointment was for—subsequently I searched the shop in Whitecross Street, and there found 53 minx skins identified by Kosminski, sealskin waistcoat, and minx skin cap—I took the prisoner into custody; he only said he had received them from this man to sell—I had said "You have sold goods for this man before"—he said "Yes, I have"—it was a little jeweller's shop, not the kind of place where you would expect to find goods of this sort.

Cross-examined. You did not promise you would point out the other man—you said you would try and Find him.

The Prisoner, in his Statement before the Magistrate, said: "I had these goods from Taylor to sell. He told me he had purchased them at a sale at Mears's in Wood Street, and hearing Mr. Rosenbaum wanted some fur, and knowing he had some, I took them to Mrs. Rosenbaum, believing he had honestly bought them at Mears's sale."

The prisoner repeated this statement in his defence.


FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, October 21st, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-964
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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964. EDWARD HOWELL (28) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Jessie Sarah Parsons during the life of his wife.— Four Months' Hard Labour.

(For other cases tried this day see Kent and Surrey cases.)

NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 22nd, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-965
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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965. JOSEPH GOLDING, Feloniously killing and slaying Charles Golding.


ISABELLA WATT . I am a widow and a laundress, at 2, Chester Cottages, opposite the prisoner's house—on 7th October, about 1.50, I saw Mr. Golding, the deceased, come home to his dinner the worse for drink and using very bad language—before he went in he said, "You b—old cow, I want you"—his wife was upstairs—he went into the parlour and shut the door, and I heard a knife and fork going, as though he was eating his dinner, and he continued to use bad language—the prisoner came down the stairs, and the deceased rushed to the door to him and said, "You b—thieving young swine, if you don't get out of this

house I will throw something at your head"—the boy said, "I won't be called a thief when I am not"—the father rushed back to the room again, and as the boy was going out at the garden gate he threw a plate with very great violence at him, and then a knife—the boy ducked down or they would both have hit him—he turned round and said to his father, "You old b—, if you throw things at me I will throw them back again," and I saw something dark leave the boy's hand, and saw the father sink into a chair looking very pale, and I went across to him and saw blood oozing from his left leg and running down his boots—I called Mrs. Golding, and went to fetch a doctor, but the man was dead before I went.

Cross-examined. I have known the deceased 13 years—he was always violent, but his drinking was more recent.

MARGARET GOLDING . My husband's name was Charles—he was a letter-carrier—the prisoner is my son—on 7th October, about 1.50, Mrs. Watt called me downstairs, and I found my husband standing in the passage, and the prisoner about two and a half yards from him—he called out, "Mother, father is bleeding"—my husband was bleeding on the outside of his thigh—the prisoner is 13 years old, and I have older children.

CHARLES DENTON (Police Inspector). I went to this house, and found the man dead, with a wound in his leg, and this table knife stained with blood on the table—two hours afterwards Sergeant Scott brought the prisoner to the station, and he made a statement, which I took down, and he signed it. (Stating that his father threw the knife at him, and he threw it back at him.)

JOHN SCOTT (Police Sergeant). I took the prisoner about 3.30, and cautioned him—he said, "I am very sorry for what I have done; my father threw a plate at me; I threw a piece of it back at him, and cut my finger, and then the knife, and I threw it back"—the skin of one of his fingers was cut.

SAMUEL BYHAM . I am a surgeon, of 18, Westbourne Place, Eston Square—on 7th October, about 1.50, I was called to see the deceased, and found blood on him, which had been partially washed away—I had him laid on the ground and his trousers taken off, and found a small wound on his left thigh, three or four inches above the knee, and an inch and a quarter long—it could have been done with this knife—I made a post-mortem examination—the knife had penetrated the main blood vessel of the leg, and the bleeding caused death—it could have been stopped if anybody had been there at the time.

GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the great provocation he received.Three Days' Imprisonment.

For cases tried in the Third Court, Thursday, October 22nd, see Surrey cases.

FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, October 22nd, 23rd, and 24th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-966
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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966. THOMAS COPE (14) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-houseof Henry Bray, and stealing therein a bottle and other articles. Discharged on his father's recognisance to appear for judgment if called upon. And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-967
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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967. JAMES SHEA (25) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joshua Abraham Cohen, and stealing therein two coats and other articles and the sum of 7s.Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-968
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited; Imprisonment

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968. JOHN MARSH DEAN and WILLIAM HENRY DEAN Unlawfully conspiring together with others unknown to defraud William Fitzhenry of divers of his moneys and property, and obtaining from him by false pretences, and with intent to defraud, three valuable securities.

MR. GRAIN Prosecuted.

WILLIAM ROBERT MACAULAY . I am a physician, of 55, Oxford Terrace, Hyde Park—I am attending Captain Fitzhenry, and have seen him this morning—I apprehend that if he came to Court it would cause his death.

Cross-examined by John Marsh Dean. I do not know that he was here last sessions when the case was adjourned—I have attended him about three weeks—he is recovering from heart disease and the accompaniments of that, which entail the utter hopelessness of having him here—I do not know that for the twelve months this case has been held over he has pleaded illness, but occasionally attended—he had been under some other doctors, and then came to me—during the whole of that time he has been too seriously ill to attend here—I am prescribing the usual remedies for heart ailments, and several of them do not act, owing to Captain Fitzhenry's ill-health—I have not had a consultation with the doctor who was previously attending him—I have constantly suggested it, but the Captain would not have it, as he had had several other doctors—Sir William Jenner saw him, I have heard, down at Ashstead earlier than I attended him—what happened then I do not know.

OLIVER WHEELER . I am second clerk at Worship Street Police-court—these are the original depositions taken in the case of the Queen on the prosecution of Fitzhenry against John Marsh Dean and William Henry Dean (produced)—they are signed by the Magistrate—the chief clerk took the cross-examination—I was not then present—I took a portion of the evidence which began on the 3rd December, and on another day—I took it in longhand—on the 8th December 1884, I took a further portion.

EDWARD LEIGH . I am chief clerk at Worship Street Police-court—I took the remaining portion of these depositions—3rd June last was the first day, 4th August, and 12th August—those three days relate to Captain Fitzhenry's depositions only—I took the last prior to the committal for trial—I read over his depositions to him, and he signed them—I took down the cross-examinations, but who cross-examined I am not quite able to say—at one time a solicitor appeared for the defendants—the cross-examination on the 4th was not very long, but on the 12th it was some length—there was no re-examination of the Captain—the defendants had the fullest opportunity of cross-examining the Captain.

Cross-examined by John Marsh Dean. I do not say that I took the answers verbatim; I took the substance—the cross-examination was afterwards read over to Captain Fitzhenry and approved by him—I do not take either examinations in chief or cross-examinations in the form of question and answer, but I take down questions and answers as nearly

as I can, working one into the other—it is then read over to the witness to see if there are any questions—I have been twenty-six years clerk, sixteen years chief clerk.

(The deposition of Captain Fitzhenry was then read.)

WILLIAM HENRY ROWLAND . I am a builder, of 42, Bark Place, Bays-water—I made the acquaintance of Mr. Groome about 1879, when I was building Cadogan Mansions, of which I am owner—it is mortgaged and I have the equity—the mortgagees are the receivers—Mr. Groome had a contract in the same neighbourhood—late in 1883 I was superintending a job in Chancery Lane for Groome—I then heard of the Ashtead Estate from him—I did not then know the defendants—we met the elder defendant in Chancery Lane, to whom Groome introduced me for the first time—he wished us to call on him as he had some matter he wished to put before us—we did not go and afterwards we received this letter from them of the 6th March, 1884. (Read: "Dear Sirs,—We have a freehold estate of about forty acres of land near the railway station at Ashtead, Surrey, to sell, together with a large residence thereon, erected at a cost of about 2,000l. The land is already laid out for building purposes, with roads made and drained, and is ripe for immediate development for building purposes. The price for the whole estate is 15,000l. If you will make an appoinment we shall be pleased to show you a plan of the property, or to go down with you to look at it. Yours, &c. (Signed.) Dean and Son. Messrs Groome and Co., 1 and 2, Crown Court, Chancery Lane.") We went the next day, and Mr. Dean gave us the particulars the same as in the letter, and a small diagram of the road to get at it from the station, and told us he would write to Captain Fitzhenry that we were coming on the following day to view the estate for the purpose of purchasing it for ourselves—I was then assisting Groome at a salary—he was rebuilding some old premises in Crown Court, Chancery Lane—at that time I had no available property nor had Groome—I believe he became indebted to me afterwards—we went down the next day, and Dean was to have gone with us, but did not—Captain Fitzhenry showed us the whole estate—we acted as would-be purchasers—we went, I think, the next day, and saw the defendants, and told them we thought well of the estate, and there could be a considerable ground rent made of it, and we were agreeable to purchase it at the sum named—I told Dean that I had not the means of paying even the deposit for the estate, and he said "There is no necessity for that, as I have a client who will provide all the means on mortgage"—I then turned to Groome and said "If that is so I see no objection; you have not the means to purchase, neither have I, and if that is the case, if your client will provide the means the matter can be settled"—I afterwards said "Why does not you client purchase?"—he said "Our clients will advance money on mortgage when they will not lock their money up"—then I turned round to Groome, and said "If that is the case I see no objection"—I then went off the scene, and took a position as clerk of the works at the rebuilding of the endowed schools at Isleworth, for which Mr. Bouchier, of Great George Street, was architect—I saw the defendants very little after that—this letter is in my handwriting. (Read: "May 16th, 1884. To Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement. Gentlemen,—Having inspected Captain Fitzhenry's property at Ashstead, we beg to offer you the sum of 15,000l. for the freehold of the residence, and all

together as we understand comprising about 40 acres, subject to his returning to us 1,000l. on completion of the purchase.") I wrote that at the dictation of the elder defendant and Groome at the defendants' office on that date—the elder Dean was the principal in the purport of the letter—the endorsements on the letter were obtained afterwards without my knowledge. (Read: "I am willing to become tenant of the house known as The Shawe from June 24th next as a yearly tenant at 150l. per annum. (Signed) William Fitzhenry.") ("I accept the within-mentioned terms for the purchase of my property at Ashstead, Surrey. (Signed) William Fitzhenry.") Immediately after that I went to Isleworth—my financial position was exactly the same as it had been in March—after that the matter was left in the hands of Groome—I took no further steps, and had no further interview with either, of the defendants—I only saw Captain Fitzhenry twice—I had Mr. G. N. Cross, solicitor, of 37, Bedford Row, acting for me at the suggestion of Groome—there was a deposit paid, I believe—I did not pay it—I was at the defendants' office one day, and saw 60l. deposit paid in notes—the elder defendant took it, and had the handling of the notes—it was set aside by Dean; they had a promissory note discounted from Groome and myself—I gave the promissory note at the suggestion of Groome; I think it was a suggestion for the paying of the deposit—there is no question about that—the elder defendant got it discounted, and I never had any portion of that 60l.—the latter part of it I paid myself—I have been sued for it lately—the bill was renewed once or twice—I now and then received a letter from Groome—I did not receive some money, or very little—after we sued in Chancery Captain Fitzhenry paid Groome 500l.—I had 25l. out of that 500l.; that is all I ever had—an action was brought against me to set aside this contract, and I appeared in the Court of Chancery in person—Groome was principal, and the motion was dismissed with costs against the captain.

Cross-examined by John Marsh Dean. We received Captain Fitzhenry's 500l. in December, 1884—the contract bears date May 16th, 1884—it was the early part of the year that I called upon you—you had met me and Groome previously in Chancery Lane—I do not recollect saying we were both purchasers of building estates—I did not represent myself to you as part owner of the freehold of Cadogan Mansion, but as leaseholder—I was anxious to obtain a loan of 21,000l. on the property, and gave you directions to raise it—I said at the police-court I had no means—I was the owner of the property, but it was not come-at-able; my money was locked up, and it is so now—I did not tell you that because I was not asked—I went to see the estate, and came to you on the 16th May with the intention of making an offer for it, and I made the offer which is contained in that letter, signed by me on behalf of Groome and myself the offer was made after you told me you had a mortgagee, or client who would provide the money on mortgage—I said that at the police-court—I handed in this card, as showing what Groome and I were. (Read: "Concrete. Messrs. Groome, Rowland, and Co. are prepared to take orders for the construction of sea-walls, embankments, fireproof buildings, &c., of every description; also furnaces, &c.") I had no interview with the captain after—I only saw him twice—I left Groome to complete it, and I went into the country—the Captain had not an interview with me on May 16th—if he has sworn he had he must have done so incorrectly—I did not hear what you said about the captain becoming

tenant of the residence—that was said in the street, I believe at the corner of Finsbury Pavement—that was the first time I saw Captain Fitzhenry in the street—you called him away from me and Groome, and spoke to him on that matter—I do not know what was said as to the day of completion—Mr. Groome was trying I know afterwards to obtain a mortgage from several influential houses—he had the entire control of the affair when I went into the country, and he wrote to me from time to time—I heard that Captain Fitzhenry wanted a small deposit paid—you spoke to me and to Groome about that—I do not recollect saying that it was not convenient for us to find that money—it was suggested that you should draw a bill on us for 100l. and discount it, and the bill was drawn by you upon me for that amount, and you retained 60l., for which you gave me a receipt on account of deposit—I was present when the bill was given, and saw the notes in your hands after it was discounted—I do not know to whom you gave the balance—you did not give it to me that I recollect—Mr. Cross was to act as my solicitor in completing the purchase—I saw him once or twice on the matter—in regard to the 1,000l. to be returned on completion of the purchase, the proposition came from you and Groome—it is in my handwriting, but you dictated it—I know no more about the 1,000l. than Adam—you arranged that with Captain Fitzhenry—the Captain promised to do all he could to enable me to raise a mortgage, and I believe he promised not to disclose the purchase-money—I believe he was told that I should send down a surveyor to inspect the property, with a view to mortgage—all that was left in Groome's hands—I cannot tell exactly when proceedings were taken in Chancery against me; the motion was dismissed with costs against the Captain and costs in the cause—a Mr. Barnett, solicitor, of Whitehall Place, called on us from Captain Fitzhenry, with a view to the rescission of the contract by the Captain—I remember you sending for me and Groome at the end of last year to meet Mr. Barnett at your office—he did not tell me that he had been endeavouring to settle with you—this (produced) is the document. (Read: "In consideration of the sum of 500l. this day paid to us by Captain Fitzhenry we authorise him to recover and secure the sum of 60l. paid by us to Messrs. Dean and Son as a deposit on the contract for the purchase of the Ashstead Estate; also we undertake to hand over to Captain Fitzhenry all the plans prepared by us for the development of the said estate, together with all valuations and papers relating thereto, and to give all information, instruction, and assistance in our power to enable the said Captain Fitzhenry to deal with the estate. Dated this 22nd December, 1884." Signed by Groome and the witness.) That 500l. was paid to Groome and me for rescinding the contract.

By the COURT. Mr. Barnett was present at the interview when this was done, and held himself out as representing the prosecutor.

By the Prisoner. That was after some negotiations with that object—I did not understand that all proceedings against you, including the proceedings at the police-court, were to be abandoned—we considered that the Captain interfered in our endeavouring to obtain a mortgage on the property—it turned out that he interfered most disastrously at last—he went to the people with whom I had arranged a mortgage of 20,000l.; I was told afterwards—Groome and Cross negotiated with Messrs. Harwood for a loan of 20,000l. on the property—Groome did the

financing part—I did not receive a penny piece of the bill that was discounted.

Re-examined. The defendant considered I was not sufficiently qualified to do with the Captain, as my friend Groome was to carry out the matter—I know nothing of the negotiations with Harwood, except what I heard through Groome.

ARTHUR ATKINS . I am an insurance broker, residing in Leicester—I occasionally discount bills—I received this bill from the defendants. (The bill was dated 7th July, 1884, drawn by Dean and Son upon and accepted by Captain Fitzhenry for 500l. at three months' date.) It was tendered by the defendants to me together with this charge. (Read:"Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement, London. In consideration of your having obtained a purchaser for my estate at Ashstead, Surrey, and I having paid you 500l. by within acceptance in your favour, dated 7th July, 1884, at three months, on account of your commission as agreed in my letter to you of the 30th November, 1883. Now for the better securing the payment of the same to you, and for the same consideration, I hereby charge my freehold estate at Ashstead, Surrey, aforesaid, which is known by the name of 'The Shawe,' and 40 acres adjoining, with the payment of the said sum of 500l., subject to a mortgage now existing thereon," &c. Duly signed and stamped.) I ultimately had to bring an action on this bill against Captain Fitzhenry and the two defendants, against whom I recovered a verdict—the London agents are my solicitors, Messrs. Crowder, Austie, and Vizard—I have been paid the full amount of the bill by Captain Fitzhenry's solicitors, Messrs. Humphreys and Sons—all my taxed costs, about 130l., and balance of interest, about 540l., have been paid by Captain Fitzhenry—the defendants indulged in the luxury of certain motions for delay, all of which the Captain had to pay for—all that I have received—I did not see Captain Fitzhenry about the bill; I saw the defendants about it—I gave them 473l. for the bill, which I handed to them—there were several incidental costs in the matter, which I paid out of the balance, and the defendants received that amount.

Cross-examined by J. M. Dean. I made inquiry of Mr. Hewlett and of Messrs. Carnell as to the captain's position before I discounted the bill—you told me previously you had given notice of the charge to the first and second mortgagees.

By the COURT. It was puisne to two other charges—it was represented as being worth about 13,000l.

By the Prisoner. Mr. Hewlett acted for me—you told me the bill was given for commission—I did not have a letter from Mr. Hewlett saying the bill would be paid before it became due—I naturally supposed the bill would be paid—I applied to you before the bill became due for permission to hand over the cheque with the bill on its being paid, and you consented—the captain did not elect to have a Special Jury on the trial of the action—we wished to go before the Judge—you wished to have it taken before a Jury, and then we applied to have it taken before a Special Jury.

By the COURT. That is one of the reasons why the costs were so heavy—when I got my verdict I do not think the prosecutor's Counsel was in Court.

Friday, 23rd October, 1885.

WILLIAM HENRY ROWLAND (Re-examined by J. M. Dean). I desire to

correct a statement in my evidence of yesterday—I stated that I did not remember having any portion of the 100l. bill which was discounted for us when the deposit was paid—there were three bills discounted, and I do not know which it was, but I received 10l.—I kept a debtor and creditor account of all our proceedings, but the book was destroyed.

Re-examined. I never possessed property at Isleworth.

Cross-examined by W. H. Dean. I do not think I saw you on 16th May, the date of the contract—no, you were not there.

JOSEPH HARGRAVE GROOME . I live, and have done for the last 16 years, in my private house, 232, New North Road—I am a builder and contractor, and have business premises there, but I lost my wife seven years ago, and from that time I have not done much business—I generally let out my work to sub-contractors and other firms—I was first acquainted with Rowland in 1870, I think—a partnership commenced between us at the time of a contract in Chancery Lane; we will say 1884, or about the latter end of 1883—what I am going on is that me and Rowlands joined in putting in a contract for an infectious hospital—there was no deed of partnership—Rowland joined me and we held ourselves out to the world by estimating for contracts—at the time of the partnership, which I say now was in March, 1884, I possessed my house I live in, and we will say other properties as well; for instance, an award given for 2,000l. odd, which I never attempted to take or touch—my house in New North Road is leasehold—I suppose it would be considered of the value of 75l., most decidedly—the saleable value of the lease at present is about 800l.; I was offered that, and refused it—I think it runs for something like 53 years—I had the interest in this estate, and the actions that I brought—I had at that time amongst my available property 2,397l. 10s. 10d., of which 1,654l. 18s. 6d. is in respect of the original debt for which this action was brought—this paper was worth to me in March, 1884, what I have it for now, and worth, say, compound interest, ever since—I brought an action against Captain Ramsay, and judgment was given me by Baron Pollock—the date of the award I spoke of was 4th May, 1883, and up to the present time I have not enforced it—I also had some property in Finchley, worth, I suppose, another 500l., unincumbered—then I have my business, which I should consider worth a great deal of money—it was originally that of a plasterer and decorator, and latterly that of a builder—Rowland and I were not in actual partnership in that, for though the contracts we took were very numerous we did not carry them out—we joined each other as land and commission agents, and also for taking concrete work—this letter is undoubtedly in my handwriting. (MR. GRAIN proposed to cross-examine this witness, treating him as a hostile one. The COURT considered that he was entitled to do so.) (Letter of 1st October, 1884, was put in and read.) I merely wanted to extract from Rowland some cash, I found he was a very close gentleman—this letter was written by me to Mr. Rowland certainly—I had a reason for writing so to him; I had found out what he was, that he was only trying to sell me; I discovered him to be a traitor—Mr. Rowland put in such a poor account of affairs connected with himself, and I found that he was really worth a great deal more money than he appeared to be—I had taken him to Cross originally, and he gave him instructions, say, to raise 5,000l. on his life to release him from the difficulty there was in taking Cadogan Mansions into his

own hands—I am not ashamed of this letter—I had sent him down at his own request to a job he had obtained from somebody—I understood he was going to build some place, and I simply wanted to extract some money from him as he had a good deal out of me—I received a sum to cancel the contract—I received 500l. in connection with the suit I brought in Chancery—what you are doing now has nothing to do with what I did with Captain Fitzhenry—I was not desirous of taking any money to cancel the contract, but Barnett informed me if I did so he would have about 100l.—I said, to get him out of a fuss, "If you make out a cheque, or if you bring me 500l. on Monday, I will take it"—what has it to do with you what I did with the 500l.?—I do not intend to answer such a question; I do not think you have any right to ask me; I don't answer it unless his Lordship thinks it bears on the question—I used it in my business in connection with that gentleman who swore yesterday that he received nothing—I gave to Rowland an equal moiety of everything, and spent it with him—long before the 500l. was brought, I must inform you, I had used 200l. or 300l. in walking about with Rowland to endeavour to sell these estates and get a mortgage on them, and we borrowed money, and I had to pay and repay—I signed this document (produced), and dictated the letter along with Mr. Rowland, and there is a footnote I had put there where the Captain became tenant of his own house at 150l. a year in lieu of 120l.—it is written by the elder Dean, I think, and signed in his office—I accepted the 100l. promissory note drawn by Dean—I do not remember whether it did not run over a day or two—I believe I answered that question to you in the same way at Worship Street—it was eventually, we will say, paid—I am not sure that it was not noted—it was, we will say, renewed—you have the document; you took it away from me at Worship Street and impounded it—you took several letters from me at Worship Street—I want to know what you took—I am speaking the truth; I am on my oath—Mr. Hannay made a special note that it should be handed over to me—this is the document, and this is the one which was impounded—this is the document signed by me and given to Dean and Son. (Read:"London, 5th June, 1884. 100l., three months after date. We jointly and severally promise to pay Messrs. Dean and Son, on order, the sum of 100l. for value received.—J. H. Groome, 232, New North Road, London, N.; W. H. Rowland, 42, Bark Place, Bayswater. Payable at 60, Finsbury Pavement, London.") This promissory note was made by me, and given to Dean and Son—it is dated 23rd May, 1884—it is for 100l., and was given before the one of 5th June—then there was another bill; in fact, we had all manner of bills—I only had notice to produce this one—they are promissory notes, and all with my honourable partner's signature—I did not pay any of that 100l. out of the money I received to rescind the contract—I had used a large portion of that money in defraying expenses in endeavouring to develop the estate as between the purchaser and me—we had to pay rather heavy interest for the 100l., for which I and Rowland blamed the Deans—I took 15l., and Rowland was content to take 10l., and why? because he knew I was the out-of-pocket man—60l. of it was paid to Captain Fitzhenry—that is the way I must answer that question; I can see you would tumble me down in a very convenient way; I don't think it fair—I heard you speaking about me before I came in yesterday—I have been informed since that the Captain never had a penny of that

60l. left with Dean as deposit, but I have in my possession a letter from Carnell, where he acknowledges that 60l. was paid, or notice to that effect. Q. I warn you to take care what you say. A. I am free to be warned, but not by you; I take my own ground and stand to it. Q. Do not you know that Captain Fitzhenry never received a penny of that 60l.?

John Marsh Dean. We admit he did not.

The Witness. I have nothing to admit in respect of it, and I set forth in my affidavit filed at the Law Courts that I paid 60l. to Captain Fitzhenry's agent—60l. of that went to Captain Fitzhenry, and 25l. we shared between us—I gave this letter to the defendants. (Read:"Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement, London. In consideration of the services you have rendered to us in introducing Captain Fitzhenry's property at Ashstead to our notice, which property we have this day agreed to purchase, we undertake and agree to pay you for such service on completion of the purchase by us, or our nominee, the sum of 250l., and which sum we authorise Captain Fitzhenry to pay you at the time of settlement. Dated 16th May, 1884.") And we were very pleased to get the estate on those conditions—I went down to the estate I should think twenty times—I do not know that Dean told the Captain that it was to be a cash transaction—I know the reverse of that—I know I am bound by my answer—it was proposed we should get the money to buy the estate by mortgage—I had not probably borrowed anything approaching such a sum on land in my life—I have borrowed 1,000l., not specially for land, nor was this specially for land, because the house built on the estate was well worth about 2,500l.—the house called The Shawe, which Captain Fitzhenry resides in—I attempted to get the money, amongst other places, at Adelaide Place, Mr. Thomas's, what they call the Land Security Investment Association, or Company, and I made an attempt, we will say with Mr. King, land surveyor, who gets money on mortgage for gentlemen, and at Guildhall Yard; De Jersey and Preston's, land agents and financial brokers, and almost to every solicitor who had money to lend, and amongst others, to the solicitor and surveyor for Earl Darnley, who Mr. Cross referred me to—his name is as sweet as yours—I went to a number of places—I complained to Dean that I thought he must have known something more of the estate when he sold it to me, as I found from Mr. Dyer, in Gracechurch Street, another land agent, that the Captain had offered the estate for less than 10,000l.—I was supposed to offer 14,000l. for it, and when I went down to Captain Fitzhenry on the first occasion I asked him as a condition, if I dealt with the estate, would he kindly refuse to answer any inquiry of any surveyor as to what I was paying for it, as I had to raise the money on mortgage, and if it were disclosed it would spoil the deal, and he grappled my hand and said "My mouth shall be mum, Mr. Groome, on that question"—the Captain told me of the bill he had given to Dean and Son—I did not know that it fell due in October—I don't think the 500l. I took is much to trouble you or me about. Q. Give me a single item that you spent on that estate? A. Well, I will give you one in this way. When Captain Fitzhenry had given to Dean the bill and charge, I took him on the road to my solicitor, informing him that he had done wrong, and it was a serious thing, and that he had blistered the estate by giving such a charge, and I advised him to go back and stop that charge,

and then I took him into a wine room, where he indulged himself at my expense—we had two or three glasses of wine—I spent many pounds for many weeks and months—I live at the rate of about 5l. a week—I was constantly working on this estate—nothing else being brought in—that letter is nothing to me. Q. 1871, County Court judgments, look at all these, and see if they are not judgments against you. A. I can show you many unsatisfied to me: Alfred Russel, Willis, Captain Fitzhenry, and others, enough to heap them up twenty thousand times.

Examined by J. M. Dean. I paid the surveyor's fees in connection with obtaining a loan—I have got no account, therefore I cannot say how much—to the best of my memory I should imagine in surveyor's fees I have paid probably 10l. or 12l.—I went to the expense of having plans prepared—I have a plan here, and I had various elevations of the house, and such like prepared—the heading in this plan is, "Ashstead Estate, Groome and Rowland's property"—I honestly entered into the contract.

By the COURT. I showed a plan whereby I could create 2,000l. a year ground rent, and I should have succeeded in selling the estate eight days after, and should have got it if it were not for the unfortunate circumstance of Rowland being asked in—I was about to borrow 20,000l. at the Gresham, which was already settled and done I may say, and I should have come away with a cheque for it.

By J. M. Dean. Captain Fitzhenry had a plan sent to him, and he knew I was dealing with the property with a view of obtaining a mortgage—it was in anticipation of your earning your commission that you drew upon me for the 100l., and my being enabled to obtain a mortgage on the property to complete the purchase—you took up the promissory note of the 23rd May when it became due—I first became acquainted with you probably about 1870 or 1871—I gave you a bill dated 5th June for discount, for which we thought you charged too heavily—you did not exactly retain 60l.—I would have you pay me over the amount of money, and I handed you back the notes—I had it passed into my hands and passed it back, and took a receipt for the 60l., I keeping 25l.—you gave me a receipt for 60l. deposit as Captain Fitzhenry's agents—the receipt for the 60l. was acknowledged by Carnells to me—when I first became acquainted with you, about 1870, your place of business was in Mark Lane, where you practised as land agents and surveyors—the younger defendant was quite a youth at that time—I did not know him in Chancery Lane when I met him there afterwards—he was very brisk, I know—we have seen one of 14 here this morning [a prisoner]—my firm then was Cooke and Groome, builders, Albion Works, London Fields—I had transactions with you through an advertisement in connection with the building of the Elephant and Castle Theatre for E. T. Smith, for which you were the agents or surveyors—I gave you a tender, which was accepted—I think it was for something like 4,300l. odd—I could probably find it—I did not carry out the works, because you had taken every step to ascertain our position as to being enabled to do so, and I in return thought it necessary that I should understand where I was to get the money from—I was not satisfied that I should get the money from E. T. Smith as I wanted it—he set up a bail, who turned out to be a steward on some gentleman's estate—I came to you and asked you something about it, and you gave me such information as caused me to decline the contract, and I have thanked you ever since—I was connected with you also in a very heavy programme

about a large property at Hounslow, about which I spent several days with the surveyor, to see if I could bring him—I also remember going to an estate at Plaistow, and that I declined—I think I first saw you about this estate somewhere about March, 1884—I think you wrote us a letter at Chancery Lane—we met first in Chancery Lane accidentally—Rowland was with me, and I introduced him to you—you did not introduce the estate to me then—you mentioned another estate in Ann Street, Spitalfields, about which I came to see you with Rowland, and Mr. Rowland was very much wrapped up in it; I think it was Ann Street; but we declined it—I do not think we could have said we were buyers of estates—we said this much, that we had resources where we could, we will say, obtain large sums of money for anything that we could possibly develop—you sent me this letter on the 6th March, speaking of the Ashstead estate, and asking me to call, which letter was impounded at Worship Street—Mr. Rowland had it—the address 1 and 2, Crown Court, Chancery Lane, was the address I gave you when I met you in Chancery Lane—that is where I carried on my business—I had a building contract there, and had a right of entry—I called on you probably a fortnight after—it was a day or two before I went down to see the estate—you showed me a plan and gave me a note to introduce us to Captain Fitzhenry, and if we had time we were to have luncheon with him—you said you would write to Capt. Fitzhenry warning him of my visit—I went with my partner, Mr. Rowland—I saw Capt. Fitzhenry there—he asked us into the dining-room and showed us all over the estate, and had a very long chat with me—he made the remark to me in the presence of my partner, did we intend to purchase for ourselves, and I said "That will all depend, Captain, upon the opportunities we have of getting the money"—I told him we should raise a mortgage to the full amount if we purchased the property, and that we should have to be financed—I pointed out this much, that as his estate had not been hawked about, and if it were free for me to develop it, as I could if I purchased it, I should require some funds to do it with, and I pointed out the manner in which I could develop the property—he promised to assist me in getting the mortgage, and he also further promised not to disclose the price I was going to give, so that I should be enabled to get a good price for it—15,000l. as the purchase-money was spoken of by us, and between you and the Captain—nothing was said then as to my wanting 1,000l. returned if I substituted a nominee to buy instead of settling myself—I saw you, I believe, the next day, and you informed me that Captain Fitzhenry would be there about 11 o'clock, and either I or both of us could call in, and I did so—we had already submitted the offer to you in writing, which has been put before me to-day—you asked me, preparatory to my signing that, to make an offer in writing, which you would submit to Captain Fitzhenry—this is Mr. Rowland's handwriting—we wrote it together, I believe on the general average he allowed me to, what he called, palm—I was generally the party who put the words into his mouth or pen—I had previously pointed out to Captain Fitzhenry that, as the land was very vacant, in all probability for me to borrow 20,000l. I should have to leave back the first year's interest while I was finishing and building the estate, and 1,000l. was to be returned to me, making the purchase-money 14,000l.—he agreed to that—I called later and had an interview with Captain Fitzhenry at your office, when the offer was discussed—there were present yourself, myself, and Captain Fitzhenry—Mr. Rowland was

not there—the Captain again inquired as to my chance of completing the purchase, and I remember your making the remark to him that this man (speaking of me) and Rowland could possibly get the money where he or you could not, we being builders and accustomed to deal with properties—I really informed him prior to that at my interview at Ashstead that I was in communication with a firm for the purpose of borrowing on that very estate—he thoroughly understood that I should have to raise the purchase-money on mortgage—I pointed out to him the difficulty there would be from their being no rental derived from the property—in the discussion, say on the 16th May, at your office I asked him, alter he had written and accepted the terms of the offerer, what about his house, how did he intend to deal with it?—I said "Do you intend to take it on lease, or what is going to be done with that?"—in the event, we will say, of my providing the money, whether he would take it on lease or how it was to be treated, and he agreed to become tenant and pay 150l. a year to show a rental—it was to be 120l., and he agreed to 150l., to enable me to get a better mortgage—I think the house is worth 150l. a year unfurnished—there are about two and a half acres appropriated to the house as well, and it is all in good condition—I then took steps to negotiate the mortgage with the Gresham Life Office for a loan of 20,000l., and 75,000l. to follow, which was to develop and build the estate afterwards—I showed a system whereby 2,000l. per annum could be created by ground rents—I showed how I could convert the estate, and I was willing to leave 2,000l. in their hands as a first year's interest—I first negotiated with De Jersey and Preston, of Guildhall, the agents, and afterwards I was introduced to the principal—they made an offer of a first mortgage of 18,500l. and I was invited to attend—I have nothing in writing now, it is so long ago; I thought the matter was done with—I represented to the Captain in your office that I had had 18,500l. offered by the Gresham—he said he thought I ought to take it, and wrote a letter to that effect—I said I believed I should get the 20,000l. from them, and I intended to have it—there was no date put in the contract for completion of the purchase, because we were uncertain as to when we should be able, we will say, to obtain the money on mortgage—the Captain did not say one word as to requiring a deposit—his speaking of a cash transaction was evidently a mistake, he found that out in Chitty's Court—I have a great respect for him [Mr. Justice Chitty]; I had then, I have now—he decided in my favour—it is not the first time I have been to see him—I saw the Captain at your office and told him the progress I was making with the mortgage, until I was sick of it—I gave him the name of Mr. Cross as my solicitor from the first—he was acting in the completion of the purchase, and the Captain went to him about it.

By the COURT. I know that of my own knowledge—I have met the Captain with Mr. Cross—I took him there, in fact, to complain, we will say, as to his giving the charge—he knew the channels in which I was negotiating the mortgage.

By the Prisoner. I communicated in August, 1884, with Messrs. Harwood with a view to obtaining the mortgage—they agreed, subject to their surveyors' report, Moore and Henry, of Chancery Lane, to lend me the money—I asked them 25,000l., and the estate is well worth it—they ultimately agreed to lend me 20,000l.—the surveyors went with me to survey the property—this is the report—Moore and Henry gave it to me

—they made it for Messrs. Harwood. (This report stated the value of the estate at Ashstead to be 26,000l., dated August, 1884.) They made some deduction as to the time it would take to develop the estate—there was a draft conveyance of the land and hereditaments at Ashstead, Surrey—I see there is writing in red ink on it, and it has been cut about a good deal and interlined—Carnell and Son were the solicitors for the Captain; the elder Carnell being the first mortgagee—I won't go quite so far as to say that Captain Fitzhenry interfered with Messrs. Harwood, and so stopped my getting the money—Mr. Cross took the Captain to Messrs. Harwoods agents, Moore and Henry, to satisfy him, and to obtain a loan of 1,000l. on account—I was not present at the interview, but I saw them coming out—the Captain interfered disastrously with them by disclosing the purchase money—they would have lent me the money—I am in a position to know by attending, we will say, at Moore and Henry's office, and their stating the same to me as a fact and Mr. Cross as well.

MR. GRAIN. Call Moore and Henry—they are only in Chancery Lane—I do not admit a word of this.

The Witness. Very likely not—you hear it though—you place me on my oath—I have met your client there, and his wife too, and shook hands with them coming downstairs—the Captain admitted a good deal of it to my solicitor.

By the Prisoner. Moore and Henry declined to have anything to do with the Captain until he got rid of me—negotiations were immediately commenced to cancel the contract—I have the writ that was produced. (Read: "Between Fitzhenry, plaintiff, and Groome and Rowland, defendants, date 3rd October, 1884. The plaintiff's claim is for delivery to the plaintiff of a certain memorandum of agreement, dated 16th May, 1884. 2. That the said agreement be rescinded. 3. That the defendants be restrained from acting. &c.") I have the statement of claim—I am not sure whether the Captain claimed 500l. damages against me—you can look at it. (Handed in and read, showing damages 500l.) I have half a dozen of those documents—proceedings in Chancery were taken after the Captain interfered in the matter—I first heard from a Mr. Barnett, of 7, Whitehall Place, of his desire to purchase back the contract—Rowland and I went to meet Barnett; he said in my presence he had made overtures to you to withdraw the charge at the police-court against you—Mr. Barnett was employed by the Captain to make those overtures on his behalf—he asked me what I would take to settle the matter—he put the screw on me—I left the office in disgust that time—I ultimately agreed with him to cancel the contract on payment of 500l.—he mentioned that all proceedings on all sides should be abandoned—he throwed it out that that was to include the proceedings against you, but he afterwards contradicted it—that was at another interview.

By William Henry Dean. You were not in the office or about the office on 16th May, only myself, Mr. Dean, and Captain Fitzbenry.

By MR. GRAIN. I can give you an a further reason why I did not complete the contract when I got the offer from the Gresham that I took with me to the interview Mr. Rowland, and although the matter seemed to far curried out that the cheque might have been drawn if we had fixed the date, he foolishly introduced his own property, the Cadogan Mansions—although I agreed to give the gentleman who introduced us to the Gresham 500l. in the event of my being able to obtain the money, he,

we will say, without any conversation whatever, put the question whether they would lend on his property, Cadogan Mansions—he had three Earls tenants, he called them Harls, and they said, "What is it?" and they entertained his project, and they forgot mine for the moment, when all at once he blurted out that Mr. Groome was offered 20,000l. for his bargain as soon as he had obtained it, as soon as he had got the land or purchased the Ashstead estate—it is no matter whether I was going to get 5,000l. profit on the bargain; how much do you get on your bargains?—we were at De Jersey and Preston's at the time, and I do not know whether it was with flurry at the disclosure or what, but his head, which was white, became pink and then red; his bald head became evidently suffused, and he did not entertain the idea after, but he told it to Mr. De Breary—he is a gentleman the same as you are; an independent gentleman I should say, much more than you or me; a gentleman living on his means—he was to get the 500l.—Mr. De Breary came out and said, "Go back, Mr. Groome, directly, and demand your commission note, but do not take that fellow with you; he has no discretion, and has lost the money;" they would have simply lent us the 20,000l. if there had been no interference in the matter—I tried to explain that he was really talking without his book, and did not understand himself—I must deny that I said I was going to give 20,000l. for the estate, and that Mr. Rowland "let the cat out of the bag," that I was only going to give 15,000l., and that it was then declined—I assure you there is more truth in my mouth than there ever was in Mr. Rowland's, and I think you must have found that out—Mr. Cross showed the valuation to Captain Fitzhenry—I have a letter from Captain Fitzhenry wondering why I did not take the money—you shall have everything I can oblige you with; I shall have it directly, I think, only these things come so awkwardly, you know—this letter is from Captain Fitzhenry, but it has nothing to do with the matter; it is addressed to Mr. Cross—take it by all means; you shall have all I have if you can make anything out of them—I should like to find the letter where Captain Fitzhenry writes wondering why I did not take the money—he wrote to me on several occasions from The Shawe—the reason why I did not accept some portion of the 26,200l. was simply that I fully believed, and believe now, that the estate is worth a considerable sum more than I agreed to pay for it, and considering then I had what I may call a fortune in my own hands I did not intend to fool it away—you have heard, I think, before that in consequence of some interference on the part of Mr. Henry the Captain volunteered to take from Moore and Henry 13,000l., which they could have got from Harwood, who was sent down to make the valuation and to develop the estate himself, and all he endeavoured to do was to throw me over. Q. Now I ask you whether this conversation did not take place between the prisoner, yourself, and Rowland when you were at the 16th May interview? Did Mr. Rowland ask Mr. Dean how it was to be done, i.e., how the estate was to be purchased? A. No, it is a tissue of lies from beginning to end, he never said anything of the sort—Mr. Dean did not go on to say, "I have clients who will find the money you want, they will find the money on mortgage, but will not purchase it themselves," nothing of the kind. Q. That is wilful and corrupt perjury on the part of Mr. Rowland? A. Yes—no, Mr. Rowland has evidently gone into some other hands and forgotten himself—about March, 1884, I had

another contract in hand through Messrs. Dean and Son to purchase land at Burgess Hill—it was not for 12,800l.—it was not quite at the same time as these negotiations were going on—after we found we could get the money Rowland informed me of this matter near Brighton, and that he should like to go down and look at it—we purchased it on the same system and on the same understanding without any idea of deposit—if Captain Fitzhenry had come to me and said "Mr. Groome, you have not found me any one," he could have taken his money back, but when he alleged fraud it was another matter—I find I have not that letter from Captain Fitzhenry with me, but should it come in course of practice I will very soon get at it.

WILLIAM VILLEROY DOUBLEDAY . I reside at Spring Grove, Isleworth, In 1884 I was possessed of part of my father's estate at Burgess Hill, near Brighton, which I was desirous of selling—I advertised in the Times, and received this letter from Dean and Son. (Read: "May 23rd, 1884. Dear Sir,—We are likely to be able to find you a purchaser for the whole of your land at Burgees Hill if you are prepared to take a fair price for it. Please let us know what is the lowest price for it, exclusive of the residence, and let us have plan showing the whole. Yours truly, Dean and Son.") I replied by letter, and in consequence of a communication from Dean, I think I saw them at their office—I signed this memorandum—it is dated 21st May, 1884: "To Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement, London. I hereby authorise you to negotiate a mortgage for me on my 30 acres freehold land, &c., at Burgess Hill, exclusive of the residence, let at 130l. per annum, for 8,500l., at not a higher rate of interest than from 4 1/2 to 5 per cent., and on your securing the same for me I agree to pay you 100l. commission. No charge to be made, excepting three guineas for survey and said mortgage." That is signed by me—this is the next document, which is dated 26th May, to Dean and Son: "I hereby place my freehold estate, of about 30 acres of land at Burgess Hill in your hands for disposal, &c." I afterwards received a letter from them which I have not got—they named a purchaser when I went to see them—I went to see them again in consequence of a letter, and they told me that they had obtained purchasers and I asked who they were, and they said they were Messrs. Groome and Rowland—then I asked whether they were responsible people—I think the younger Dean was present—Dean said "We have known them a considerable time, and sold them an estate or estates before; they are large contractors"—across this document, dated June 17th, I wrote: "I agree to the terms. (Signed) William Doubleday"—I received it from Dean—may I add that when it was given to me I said I should require a deposit of 10 per cent. if he sold it to them, and he said 10 per cent. was too high, but 5 per cent. would be a fair thing, to which I agreed, and also said "Do not sell to these men or make an agreement with them without you make it the subject of a contract"—I wrote the above words—this document is dated June 17th, 1884: "To Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement, London. Gentlemen,—We beg to offer you the sum of 400l. per acre for the 32 acres of freehold building land, belonging to Mr. W. V. Doubleday, being the residue of the Burgess Hill Park Estate, Burgess Hill, Surrey. We are, gentlemen, yours very truly, Groome and Rowland." [GROOME: This is my signature at the bottom.] "To Messrs. Dean and Son. I desire you to accept Messrs.

Groome and Rowland's offer of 400l. an acre for my freehold building land, Burgess Hill, Surrey, comprising 32 acres, or thereabouts. June, 1884. (Signed) W. V. Doubleday." I did not hear anything of them for some time after June 18th, though I called occasionally from time to time to know how they were getting on—they intimated several times they were progressing, but I lost my confidence in them to tell you the truth—on one occasion when I called, after June 18th, Dean spoke to me about my giving a bill for 100l. towards his commission, as he was short of money—I was indignant at it; I thought it an insult—I wrote to them on or about 20th June, and it was not returned to me through the dead letter office: "June 20th. Will you kindly send to Messrs. Rye and Eyre particular of the arrangements entered into between us, &c. To Messrs. Dean and Son." In consequence of inquiries I instructed my solicitors to take steps to have the contract rescinded, and the matter was set aside—that was about July.

Cross-examined by John Marsh Dean. I think the offer was made in writing on June 17th by Groome alone—you sent me that offer—I wrote you to accept it—I particularly mentioned the deposit to you at the time—perhaps the offer was written by Groome and Rowland—I wrote across agreeing to the terms, and then told you that I should expect a deposit of 10 per cent, which you demurred to, and then I agreed to 5 per cent.—you wrote out a memorandum at your office, and I signed it then and there—there is nothing about 5 per cent. in writing.

Re-examined. I believe I am telling the truth when I say it was before that I had a conversation with Dean as to the deposit, because I particularly put the question to him, "Are these responsible men?"—he said "Oh yes; I have sold them an estate before; they are large contractors"—that satisfied me, and then I requested a deposit—I looked upon Dean as a sort of agent of mine, and I told him that he was not to do this without making it the subject of a contract—he knew I wanted a deposit before I signed that.

By the Prisoner. The matter fell through and you never made any claim upon me for commission—you put me to a great deal of annoyance and expense—you wanted to get a bill out of me—I did not like your treatment—I made inquiries about you—it was of course to your interest to complete the purchase and earn your commission.

By the COURT. I thought his asking for commission before the purchase was an attempt to extort a bill from me, and I did not like it.

HENRY ALLEN . I am clerk in the Registry Office for County Court Judgment, Victoria Street, Westminster—these are certificates of judgments duly signed and stamped with the office stamp, and are copies of the entries in these books (produced)—they are unsatisfied as follow: "J. Groome, of 232, New North Road, Islington, Middlesex, builder, 16l. 5s. 11d., 1871. November 22, 1872, 12l. 2s. Groome, of Newbury, Berks, builder, 1873, March 20, 33l. 11s. 2d. Groome, of 232, New North Road, Middlesex, builder, 1874, March 24, 12l. 2s.; 1881, July 8, 21l. 12s. 6d. 1883, March 16, 14l. 19s. 10—that completes the list against Groome—these are also certificates of unsatisfied judgments (produced) duly signed and stamped by the Court—the first is against John Marsh Dean, auctioneer, 202, Bishopsgate Street, 1876, September, 22l. 6s. 6d.; 1879, January 11, 17l. 19s. 10d. John M. Dean, 4, Esk Villas, Richmond, Surrey, 16l. 12s. 6d., 1879, October 21. John Dean,

same address, Richmond, public-house agent, 18l. 9s. 8d., May 25, 1880. John Dean, same address, auctioneer, 11l. 11s., 1880, December 7. John Marsh Dean, 66, Coleman Street, City, 10l. 10s., 1881, June 21. John M. Dean, same private address, 16l. 13s. 2d. 1881, November 21. John Dean, Joslin Road, Richmond, 17l. 11s., 1883, June 6. John Dean, 60, Finsbury Pavement, auctioneer, 17l. 7s. 8d, 1883, December 4. John Marsh Dean, same address, surveyor, 12l. 5s. 10d., 1884, March 10. John M. Dean, same address, no description, 13l. 0s. 8d., 1884, May 23. John M. Dean, Esk Villas, Richmond, auctioneer, 21l. 3s., 1884, June 17. John M. Dean, 60, Finsbury Pavement, auctioneer, 18l. 0s. 1d., 1884, November 5. W. H. Dean, same address, 11l. 19s., 1884, May 19.

Cross-examined by J. M. Dean. If a judgment is satisfied the certificate is sent to us from the Court, not in every case, I presume—if a judgment is satisfied we should have a notification of it—the money must be paid into Court, and there is a satisfaction fee of 6d.—if a creditor accepts the money we know nothing of it—these amounts could not have been paid into Court without our knowing it—the rule of Court is that the money shall be paid into Court.

JAMES GREEN . I am clerk to Messrs. Humphreys and Sons, solicitors, of Giltspur Chambers, Holborn Viaduct—on Monday, 19th October, I personally served a notice, of which this is a copy, on Denn, senior. (This gave notice of intention to call Henry Allen to produce the books of the Registry of County Court Judgments.)

Witnesses for the Defence.

GEORGE FREDERICK JAMES . I am a window-blind manufacturer, of 68, Finsbury Pavement—I was not called at the police-court—I was subpoenaed or I should not have been here—I have carried on business for 36 years, and have been there for 55 years—I am pretty well known—I have known you as an auctioneer, I should think, pretty nearly 20 years—during the former part of the time I knew you, you carried on a very extensive practice, up to 1870, I think it was—I have done a great deal of speculating both in land and house property in my time, and hope to do a good deal more—we purchased estates together a good many years ago to rather a considerable extent—I was director of the Freehold Land Company of England 15 years ago or more, and you were surveyor to the Company—they purchased through you an estate for 25,000l.—I think it was somewhere about the early part of last year you introduced Captain Fitzhenry's estate to me, and I went down with you to see it—my object was to purchase if I considered it suitable—I would not go down for nothing—I went over it with you and the Captain—you asked me 15,000l., if my memory serves me rightly—I did not consider it worth the money—I did not agree with Mr. Groome—he was purchasing for development, and I was purchasing for re-sale, that makes all the difference—the Captain's wife called on me on the business after I had written to decline it, and I suggested that a less sum would be taken—if I had purchased it I should certainly not have paid down all the money—it is usual for persons to buy land and to negotiate a mortgage to a certain extent, not up to the hilt though—it is within my experience that persons may sign a contract to buy property with a view to negotiate a mortgage to complete—it is very usual.

liquidation of Dean, senior, in 1870—I am afraid I am the only one left—have lost sight of the defendant to a great extent lately—he has brought things to me occasionally—I did not purchase, but I think I introduced some friends who did, to the best of my recollection—it is very usual to have these things put before you, if you are dealing with land, by almost anybody—I surveyed the property, and intended to buy to sell at a profit—by the way it was put before me I thought it was a very eligible estate, otherwise I should not have lost my time and money in going to visit it—we buy to develop, in bulk, and re-sell in plots, but Groome buys, as far as I understand, to develop, that is for building property—we sometimes build, but if an estate goes off well without we do not build on it—there is an old adage, "Fools build and others buy"—I did not keep a copy of the letter I wrote declining—I think if Mrs. Fitzhenry had taken my advice all this bother would have been saved—I advised her to take it out of the market and keep it for two or three years.

WILLIAM BENTLEY . I am clerk to Mr. Nicholas Bennett, solicitor, of 182, Chiswell Street, Finsbury Square Buildings, who has acted for you in these proceedings, and also in the proceedings brought by you to recover the 325l. in the High Court, Queen's Bench Division—I have had the principal conduct of the business under his supervision—when you gave us instructions we first wrote a letter for payment, and afterwards issued a writ—I am afraid I have not a copy of the letter—I think it was 27th September, 1884, that the writ was issued, and the application was made on the 22nd September—I have a copy of the writ—it is for 335l., balance of commission, giving credit for the 500l. bill of exchange—there was a clerical error of 10l. too much—it should have been 325l., and not 335l.—the prosecutor put in an appearance through Mr. Vosper, solicitor—a summons was taken out under Order 14—it has never yet been heard, but has been adjourned from time to time till it is nearly worn out—the adjournments were at the request of Mr. Vosper—the 325l. was supposed to be balance of commission on sale of property—I am afraid I cannot say at what rate the commission was calculated. (The commission note was put in and read.) "I herewith hand you five guineas to cover your cost of survey of my freehold estate at Ashstead, Surrey, comprising residence and about 40 acres of land, and I undertake in the event of your finding me a purchaser for the sum of 13,000l. that I will pay you a commission of 2 1/2 per cent. on that sum or any less sum I may hereafter agree to accept for the property; but should a purchaser be found by you at any higher sum, in that event I agree to divide the difference with you between 13,000l. and such higher sum obtained, it being understood and agreed that the higher price obtained shall not exclude payment of a commission less than 2 1/2 per cent. on 13,000l., which is to be payable by me in any event."

The Prisoner. Two and a half per cent. on 13,000l. is 325l.: then the division between 13,000l. and 14,000l. would be 500l. more, making 825l.

By the Prisoner. Upon this Captain Fitzhenry took proceedings in the police-court—I believe on the 26th September the information was sworn—I did not attend at the police-court on the first occasion—from the date of the summons the case was adjourned at the police-court something like 19 or 20 times—the second solicitor complained of the difficulty he had in getting the papers out of the first solicitor's hands—the delay in consequence

of that was 11 months—we had your instructions and carried them out—we never objected to adjournments, and I do not think we ever applied for them—Mr. Montagu Williams attended several times on your behalf with the view specially of cross-examining Captain Fitzhenry, but the Captain was not present, and when he tendered himself for cross-examination, ultimately Mr. Williams was in the country—his clerk told me so—you had to take up the cross-examination, and did it quite efficiently at all events—you asked for an adjournment, and the Magistrate said you must go on with the case, at the request of Mr. Grain I think—Mr. Humphreys was there, and Mr. Grain too I believe—on the 17th February, 1885, there was a letter from Messrs. Hamphreys, giving us notice that they were instructed to act for the Captain both in this and the common-law action, and asking us at the same time to allow the common-law action to stand over—you have always been most ready and willing to go on; you were most anxious to get the charge disposed of—notice was given that you would hold the parties responsible for malicious prosecution in September, 1884—I have the answer here: "26, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 26th September, 1884. Dear Sir—Fitzhenry and Dean,—I am in receipt of your favour of yesterday. It is unnecessary to enter into discussion now on the ground of my client's proceedings. That is specially a matter for magisterial inquiry. Under the present circumstances I must decline accepting service of any process whatever on behalf of my client, but leave Messrs. Dean and Son to fill up the full measure of their conduct in the way they deem best. Yours truly, C. M. Vosper. To W. Bennett, Esq., 1 and 2, Chiswell Street."

STANLEY MATHEWS . I was articled clerk to you for two years from April, 1883, in your business of auctioneers and surveyors—this is my signature to this document of the 24th October, which I saw Captain Fitzhenry sign in your inner office—your boy went out for the stamp—I do not know whether it was read over to him—he was reading it before he signed it, for I was waiting to witness it—I believe he had a copy of it—I do not know whether it was given to him in my presence—this is a copy of the original; it was given to him—the captain was constantly at your office with Groome and Rowland—I was present on May 16th with Groome, yourself, and Captain Fitzhenry, when the offer was made by Groome and Rowland—to the best of my recollection your son was not there.

Cross-examined. I did not hear all that took place, for I was outside the office—I did not see another document produced when that was signed—I did not hear any discussion about the document which he had brought with him already written by himself—I went in to append my signature to the document, and that is all I know about it—I practically heard no conversation—I did not say the prosecutor was constantly at the defendants' office with Groome and Rowland—I said "on several occasions"—I was there for two years—Mr. Dean kept property books—I believe he made sales while I was there—I was a pupil, but did not pay a premium—I acted as clerk—if there were any sales of property I should have gone to look after them—I cannot call to mind any single property he disposed of, there were so many auction sales—he held some at Hounslow, of furniture—there were sales by private treaty—I do not know that I can call to mind any land or houses disposed of during that time—I could not swear whether it is the fact that during the whole

time I was there they never disposed of an acre of land or a single house.

Re-examined. You had numerous sales by auction—now you speak of it I remember an auction sale at Camber well of house property, and some at Peckham—there might be sales at the Mart and also at Masons' Hall Tavern, but I never attended them—I did not keep the books—you had the sale of the Green Dragon, Fleet Street, when I was with you—I do not know whether it was bought in or not—you negotiated mortgages—I remember there were sales of house property, but I cannot remember where it was.

By the JURY. I believe the house property at Camberwell and Peckham was sold at Masons' Avenue.

EDMUND WILLIAM RICHARDSON . I am an auctioneer, surveyor, and land and estate agent, and have carried on business at Finsbury Square for the last ten or twelve years, and previously for many years at No. 7—I have a very large practice. (The following document read: "Messrs. Dean and Son, 60, Finsbury Pavement, London, 30th November, 1883. I herewith hand you five guineas to cover your cost of survey of my freehold estate at Ashstead, Surrey, comprising residence, and about forty acres of land, and I undertake in the event of your finding me a purchaser for the sum of 13,000l., that I will pay you a commission of 2 1/2 per cent. on that sum, or any less sum I may hereafter agree to accept for the property; but should a purchaser be found by you at any higher sum, in that event I agree to divide the difference with you between 13,000l. and such higher sum obtained, it being understood and agreed that the higher price obtained shall not exclude payment of commission less than 2 1/2 per cent. on 13,000l., which is to be payable by me in any event.") It is addressed to Dean and Son—I know nothing about it—supposing it had been addressed to me I would have considered myself entitled to the full commission, and I should take the ordinary steps to look about to find a purchaser, and to get the best I could—if I did not sell I should not earn my commission—I should introduce it to likely buyers—I do not consider it part of my duty to inquire as to the means of the parties to complete the purchase—the duty of an auctioneer or surveyor is to see that the contract, approved by the vendor or his solicitor, be duly signed and a deposit paid over—there are such cases as a contract being signed without a deposit being paid—they are not so frequent, and as a rule we endeavour to obtain a deposit, but I have got many cases in my office of sales where deposits have not been paid—thirty years ago there were no deposits paid on private sales in the Court of Chancery, as a rule—the practice is, of course, to receive a deposit—it is ear-marked and ready at any moment—there is a lien on it for our commission and costs—that is the only way we "stick to it."

By the JURY. If a property were put up for sale and sold for 10,000l. or 15,000l. I should expect a deposit according to the amount of the purchase-money—if it is under 10,000l., 10 per cent., and perhaps over that 5 per cent.—that is sales by auction, but there is no absolute rule—it is a rule that on the contract being signed in the auction room a deposit be paid of 10 per cent. or 5 per cent.—I would not take a contract without a deposit, unless my employer, the solicitor, said I was to do so—by private treaty the vendors and their solicitors do not insist on deposits—I should assuredly consider myself entitled to my commission if the

contract were bought back and the property sold, or if my employer cancelled the contract—if he were not a legitimate buyer, I should be a scamp—it is no part of my duty to see to the responsibility of a purchaser, or his power to finish the contract—if he signed a proper contract and paid a deposit my duty ends, and I should not dream of going behind his cheque-book to see whether it would be completed—if an intending purchaser signed a contract without paying a deposit it would be the duty of a solicitor to see that he was responsible—if the vendor came to me direct without the intervention of a solicitor, and asked me to sell his estate, and he was willing that a stranger to both of us should buy that estate without paying a deposit, I should draw his attention to the matter, and only do it on his written instructions—I should not want my commission until the completion of the purchase.

By the COURT. An agent is entitled to his commission when and so soon as the purchase is completed—i.e., so soon as the solicitor of the purchaser is satisfied with the title and the balance of the purchaser's money is handed over—I should not be entitled to it until then, except in a hypothetical case such as the Juryman put to me, where a contract is cancelled behind my back, and then I should expect my commission—it is unusual to prepare a contract without inserting a clause that a deposit shall be paid, but there are many cases where in sales of land and houses it has been arranged by the owner that a deposit need not be paid—as a rule, it is invariable to pay a deposit.

By the Prisoner. There are exceptions, and I have cases in my office, but they hang about longer—no solicitor would allow a contract to be entered into where the agreement was that the money should be raised on mortgage, instead of being paid down in the ordinary way, and I should not without the express authority of the vendor in writing—supposing the vendor and purchaser agreed, then it would be their act, and not mine.

By the COURT. Supposing a vendor came to me, being willing to sell his estate without a deposit, and being willing to enter into a contract without a date, the object being to give the purchaser an opportunity to raise the money on mortgage, then I should feel it my duty to point out to the vendor the grave risk he ran—I should say "It will be better for you to consult your solicitor," and I should see that that happened, but if the vendor said "I am satisfied," I do not know that I should go out of my way to decline business—it is irregular, Mr. Dean, it is unusual; it might be done.

Cross-examined. Solicitors are invariably employed in my business, and, in fact, I should decline business if there were no solicitor—the case I put of no solicitor was only hypothetical—it is the invariable practice that there should be a solicitor on the vendor's side—some sign a contract and pay a deposit without consulting us when they are dealing with large estates realising 12,000l. or 15,000l.—as a matter of fact, the name of an intending purchaser is not necessarily disclosed—the rule is, we have an offer of 10,000l. say, and when I take it to the solicitor he says "Yes," and the draft contract is sent to the vendor's solicitor, and so on, but if it is proposed not to pay a deposit then the solicitor of the vendor comes into the responsibility, and so on—I mean that I should use some circumspection as to who I was dealing with.

By the COURT. It would not be my business to inquire when the

deposit was paid—in the case of a sale falling through, through no fault of the vendor's, I am not a lawyer, and the quantum meruit arises, but the vendor is not liable for the commission, perhaps, because the failure is not the act of the vendor, and I should be entitled to some payment as a quantum meruit for services rendered—I never heard the names of Groome and Rowland.

Re-examined. My first recollection of you is about 30 years ago, when acting for a large public company, we lent some thousands to some lessees of yours; I was party to the advance—you were freeholder of certain land at Epping or Stratford or somewhere—I have lost trace of you lately—you used to do a good business—there are other firms besides whose names have disappeared out of the Times.

Saturday, October 24th, 1885.

DAVID JAMES CHATTELL . I am an auctioneer, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, Chislehurst, and Kensington, and have carried on business nearly 21 years—if a property were placed in my hands I should offer it to persons likely to purchase, and if I received an offer it would be my duty to communicate it to the vendor, and on bringing the vendor and purchaser together I should arrange terms with the purchaser if I were instructed by the vendor as his agent—in regard to the practice I should say if a bond fide auctioneer introduced a vendor to a purchaser, and they entered into the sale themselves, and it were a bond fide transaction, the agent would certainly be entitled to his commission—supposing a vendor to raise the purchase money on mortgage, and then afterwards to interfere to prevent the purchase being carried out, I should certainly consider myself entitled to my commission if the transaction were bond fide.

By the JURY. On a sale by auction the solicitor always prepares the conditions of sale and stipulates for the payment of a deposit, and then the auctioneer has no further duty than to take the deposit and sign the contract on behalf of the vendor, the purchase to be completed on a certain date—I do not prepare private contracts for sale in my office; that is the province of a solicitor, except a preliminary contract to be the subject of a contract prepared by the solicitor.

Cross-examined. I do a good business—in a case similar to this, I think after the offer was made I should have submitted it to the vendor, and perhaps I might have entered into a preliminary agreement with the intending purchaser, the contract to follow by the solicitor.

By the COURT. I cannot say that I consider my responsibility at an end when I bring the parties together without inquiring into the solvency of the party—in a private contract I should consider it my duty to find out something about the purchaser.

By MR. GRAIN. If Captain Fitzhenry had come to me to dispose of his estate without employing a solicitor, and I had found a purchaser for him, I should have considered it my duty, before advising him, to make some inquiry about the purchaser's pecuniary position, whether a deposit were paid or not, on a private contract sale.

Re-examined. On getting an offer in writing, as in this case, and placing it before my client, and answering him all questions as to the position of the people that I was able to do, he having the opportunity of seeing them and hearing of their means from them, I should consider that absolved me from any responsibility of inquiring as to their means, if the vendor chose to do that with his eyes open—if he chose to be a

fool I should not be responsible for his folly—I should expect my commission if the purchase were not carried out by reason of the vendor's fault.

By the JURY. If the commission were voided not through any fault of the vendor's, then I do not think the commission would be payable—the usual course is that an agent's commission is paid on completion of the purchase, or a quantum meruit if the thing is broken off—I think he would be entitled to his commission if there were no specified time for procuring a purchaser, if done through his agency—I have never known a case where the vendor has been obliged to purchase back his own contract, and has then been sued by his agent for the commission on the original arrangement.

GEORGE ARTHUR BICKERTON . I am an auctioneer, carrying on business at 3, Gilbert Street, and 84, Lombard Street—I was for 13 years with Mr. Edmund Robins, successor to Mr. George Robins, and have been in practice seven years—if an estate were placed in my hands for disposal by private contract I should do the best to find a purchaser to carry out the contract—one purchaser would be as good as another, provided he were prepared to purchase—I do not think I should consider it my duty to inquire of him his private means—I should assume that a man who came prepared to buy an estate had means or knew where to get them, and that the man knew his own business—I should not consider it business unless the offer were in writing—I should then submit it to the vendor, and having, as in this case, put the vendor and purchaser together, and they conferring as to the means of the purchaser being able to carry out the contract, I should like to handle a deposit—if no deposit were mentioned by the vendor, then I should consider I had done my duty—a contract being entered into, and no deposit being required by the vendor, and he ultimately, for reasons of his own, purchasing the contract back, I should certainly consider that I was entitled to my commission.

Cross-examined. Q. Let me read this letter to you, and ask you what you would do as a gentleman of position and honour: "60, Finsbury Pavement, 30th May, 1884. Dear Sir,—We have this day given Messrs. Groome and Rowland, men whom we well know, particulars of your estate, price 15,000l., and they propose inspecting the same to-morrow," &✗. Would you consider that a sort of guarantee of their responsibility? A. I should not say I knew them unless I did so—I think it would be a sort of guarantee that I knew something of their position—if I received a letter from a vendor, expressing his wishes, I should take steps to carry them out—I should have nothing to do with the deeds—1 should imagine from the way you put it to me it would be my duty not to lose time in anything I had to do as far as I was concerned—if I received a letter such as this I should ask the purchaser the name of his solicitor, and send it on to my client. (Letter read written from Captain Fifzhenry to Dean and Son: "I was surprised by your letter this morning... nothing further having been done. I feel anxious to have the name of their solicitor as promised. I was given understand at our interview that no time would be lost in having the sale carried through, which was my only reason for not insisting on the usual deposit being paid. 31st May, 1884.") I should do nothing else—I know nothing of this case—I most unwillingly came here—you did not bring me here.

Re-examined. If I received a letter asking for a deposit I should consider it my duty to communicate with the purchasers, and convey to them the desire of Captain Fitzhenry, and having done that, and they paying the deposit, I should consider I had done my part.

(MR. HORATIO FREDERICK BARNETT, solicitor, of Craven Street, was called on his subp✗na, but did not respond.)

WILLIAM HENRY ROWLAND (Re-examined). I heard what Mr. Groome said, that at the interview with Captain Fitzhenry at his house at Ashstead on the first occasion he was made acquainted with the fact that we were going to mortgage the estate before we paid for it—it is nothing of the kind; it is wickedly false.

Further Cross-examined. There has been "a split in the cabinet" between Groome and myself since the purchase of this estate—I am not aware that I have given evidence here respecting my position and Grooms's which I did not give at the police-court—this rent-roll of Cadogan Mansions shows a rental of 2,120l.—there was no necessity for me to say anything about the receipt of the rents.

GUILTY. The Jury strongly recommended Dean, the younger, to mercy , and added the following rider: That eleven of the Jury think Groome has committed wilful and corrupt perjury, and hope that the Public Prosecutor will take up the matter to prosecute him for such wilful and corrupt perjury, and prosecute him also for fraud in obtaining 500l. from Captain Fitzhenry.

Judgment on DEAN senior was respited , and DEAN the younger was sentenced to a Month's Imprisonment without Hard Labour .

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-969
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

969. FREDERICK DALTON (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch, value 7l. 12s., the goods of John Ramsbottom.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Friday, October 23rd, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-970
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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970. FREDERICK SMITH (42) PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for forging and uttering orders for the delivery of goods; also to obtaining goods by false pretences from John Evans and others.— Six Months' Hard Labour. And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-971
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

971. LEWIS CHARLES BARBER (33) to feloniously marrying Emma Jane Padwick during the life of his wife.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-972
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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972. JOHN HARRIS (33) , Stealing a watch, the property of Charles Boulois, from his person.

MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.

CHARLES BOULOIS . I am a sailor—I live at 67, Upper East Smithfield—on 16th October I went into a cigar shop in St. George's Street about 9.10 p.m.—a man came in about putting some cigar pictures in the window—I went outside—three men came along; the prisoner is one—they pushed me against the window—the prisoner asked me if I had broke the window—I said "No"—I saw him go away with my watch in his hand—this is the chain I was wearing—I saw the watch on the chain ten minutes previously—I ran after him, but lost him—I next saw him

when I identified him from nine or ten men at the station about 11.30 the same night—my watch is worth 1l.

SAMUEL LUFFLER . I keep a cigar shop at 72, St. George's Street East—on 16th October the prosecutor came in between 9 and 10 p.m.—a man came in about some pictures, and the prosecutor went out to see them put up—I heard a noise at the window, and looked, and saw the prisoner running across the road—he was wearing the same light coat, and had only one eye—I identified him the same night at the station from 12 or 14 others—I saw the watch while the prosecutor was in the shop; I asked him the time.

FRANK MATTHEW . I am a ship's steward, and live at 67, Upper East Smithfield with the prosecutor—on 16th October, between 9 and 10 p.m., I was in St. George's Street—I heard cries, and saw live or six people standing at a window, and the prisoner was running away towards Dock Street—he had the same coat on—I picked him out about 10.45 p.m. at the police-station from others, without hesitation.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The officer did not say he had a chap in custody with a brown coat on.

PATRICK ENRIGHT (Detective H.) I received a description of the prisoner from Matthew—I went to the Star Chambers Lodging-house, Dock Street, and told the prisoner I should take him in custody for stealing a watch in St. George's Street that evening—he said, "I have not been out all the evening," and the landlady said the same—I took him to the station, where he was identified from seven or eight others, without hesitation.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I came from the Docks at 2 o'clock, and stayed in till 5 o'clock. I went out at 5 o'clock for a bloater, and returned and stayed in all the evening."

Witness for the Defence.

CATHERINE HICKEY . I keep the Star Chambers Lodging-house, 12, Dock Street—I remember the prisoner being taken in custody in my house—he came in at 2 o'clock from being out to look for work, and I was washing in the kitchen up till 5—just before 5 o'clock he went out for two minutes and was in again—then he took his dinner; he had to sell his coat for 4d. to get it—I went to get my husband's supper and returned; he was in the kitchen; that was 8.30—between that time and 9.10 I do not know what became of him as I was up and down, not exactly in the kitchen—he was in the kitchen each time I went.

Prisoner's Defence. I was not there at all; I don't know anything about it.

GUILTY .* He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerken-well in January, 1877.— Four Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-973
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

973. ALBERT REECE JACKSON (57) , Feloniously forging and uttering a bill of exchange for 285 l.


EDWARD FREDERICK KELSEY . I am a solicitor, of Salisbury—the prisoner called on me in February—he said he wished to borrow a sum of money—he produced a will, and then this bill of exchange for 285l. (Drawn upon Sir E. P. Cuninghame Fairlie, dated February 1st, payable at the Union Bank of Scotland, Glasgow.) I asked him who Sir E. P. Cuninghame Fairlie was—he said he was an intimate of his, and he had just left him at Monte Carlo—I gave him 25l. on that bill, believing it to

be genuine—I was subsequently paid by Mr. Andrew—I handed the papers I had to him—the prisoner endorsed the bill in my office in the presence of myself and another gentleman.

Cross-examined. I was not carrying on business as a money lender—the prisoner was introduced to me early in February by Mr. King, a solicitor (who I knew), not as a money lender—the prisoner said he had a share in some property—I wrote to the trustees to inquire about it—he said he had 16,000l. coming to him under his father's will—he produced a document which I believed was an abstract of the will, and I said if that statement was true he could borrow money—I did not advance the prisoner money upon the bill drawn in March—that was produced to me in mistake, and I could not speak to the date—the amount is the same—the prisoner produced two other documents to me, it may be more—he gave me an authority to act for him—I believe I drew it—I did not see that the prisoner's interest was mortgaged—I heard something of Mr. Pace—to the best of my recollection I was not told of the mortgage on that occasion—I did not give him the 25l. in consideration of his retainer.

Re-examined. I found on inquiry that the prisoner had assigned all his interest in the property for 100l.

ALFRED ANDREWS . I am a solicitor, of Northampton—in March last the prisoner came to my office—he said he was a major in the Austrian Army, and was entitled to certain property under his father's will, Jonathan Jackson, a licensed victualler, of Worcester; that the trustees of the estate had in hand 16,000l., of which he was entitled to one-third, and the estate was originally divided into four, but his sister had died; that he had been staying with an hotel-keeper at Salisbury, and had run up an amount of 70l., and had given the hotel-keeper, a Mr. Wylie, a charge on his interest under his father's will to secure 100l.; that Mr. Pace was his solicitor, and that he had written or was about to write to him for an abstract to show his title under his father's will—I wrote to ask the trustees if his statement was true—I received no reply, and I refused to let him have the money—he then said he had a bill of exchange, which was in Mr. Kelsey's hands, a solicitor, at Salisbury, for 285l., drawn by him and accepted by E. P. Cuninghame Fairlie, and he had only received 25l. from Mr. Kelsey—upon that bill I let him have the money, because he would be able to get it discounted at once—I knew the name of Fairlie, and asked him who Fairlie was—he said he lived at Inchnacardock Lodge, Fort Augustus, and was an elderly man, a member of Parliament, and an intimate friend of his, and he had been grouse shooting with him last year—I subsequently paid Kelsey off—I advanced other moneys, and received this bill of exchange, dated 1st February, for 285l, due on 1st May; on Kelsey's bill, 31l. 10s., altogether the prisoner had of me 115l. 4s.—I held the bill as security for that money, believing it to be genuine—I afterwards wrote and told him that the bill had been dishonoured, and asked him to give an address—the letter was not returned to me—I received no reply—I had presented the bill, and it was dishonoured.

Cross-examined. I have been in practice about 10 years—I have never been a money-lender—I cannot say that I have discounted a bill for a stranger before—I did not take a retainer from the prisoner—I did not act for him; I acted for myself, because he wanted an advance, and I

wrote to Mr. Pace, of Pershore, who he said was his solicitor, to send me an abstract showing the prisoner's title—I received a letter from Mr. Pace, stating that he had sent the abstract to Mr. Jackson, who brought the abstract to me—it purports to be an abstract of the prisoner's father's will, and of a mortgage by Jackson to Mr. Pace for 100l.—a memorandum is added containing the particulars of the real estate sold and insurances—the property is said to amount to 5,280l., which is false, as I have since ascertained—the property was mortgaged for a sum exceeding this—that does not appear—there was an assignment on the mortgage to secure 100l.—I told the prisoner the abstract was not good enough for me, and I had written to the trustees and as I had received no reply I could not advance—at the time Jackson brought the abstract he said he had not a single rag to stand up in, the licensed victualler had kept him out of his luggage, and he was anxious I should pay the licensed victualler off at once—I said I should not till I heard from the trustees—he said "You need not hesitate in letting me have money; I have a bill accepted by Sir Cuninghame Fairlie due next month; I can borrow the money"—I did not know the prisoner before or Sir Cuninghame Fairlie—I made inquiries, and found that no such person existed, certainly not at Inchnacardock Lodge—Kelsey had 31l. 10s.; Nodder and Goddard, the solicitors for the publican, who held the charge, had 70l.; Dr. Wilks had 3l. 10s.; Mr. Goddard 1l. 4s.; Jackson for sundry payments 4l. 9s. 9d., and for his railway fare and expenses 2l. 14s.—I had previously lent him 2l., and I paid Mr. Nodder for a copy of the mortgage, 10s.—I paid to the prisoner himself 4l. 9s. 9d., that is all he asked for—you may call me whatever you like, I do not consider I acted as a money lender—I took an assignment for the charge he had to Wylie to secure the money advanced, and any future sums that might be due to me.

ROBERT BAIRD . I am a stockbroker, of 10, Throgmorton Avenue—the prisoner called at my office in April with reference to borrowing money upon property which he said he was entitled to—he subsequently produced to me this bill for 75l. (Dated Northampton, April 18th, 1885, for one month, accepted, payable at the Union Bank of Scotland, Glasgow. Signed E. P. Cuninghame Fairlie, endorsed by the prisoner.) I asked him who Sir Cuninghame Fairlie was—he said he was his personal friend—I gave him 75l., the full amount of the bill—he gave me this charge upon his property as collateral security. (An authority to the trustees of the prisoner's father's estate to pay 75l. to Robert Baird.) He signed it in my presence, as well as this receipt for the 75l.—upon receiving this bill for 285l. I returned the bill for 75l. and the charge—he said that Sir Cuninghame Fairlie was indebted to him in this large sum of money, which included the 75l., and that the bill was accepted by the same person—I wrote to Sir Cuninghame Fairlie at Inchnacardock Lodge, Fort Augustus, and the letter was returned through the dead letter office—I received these letters (produced) from the prisoner.

Cross-examined. I know Mr. Rankin, of Liverpool—he introduced the prisoner to me—Mr. Rankin was my agent at that time—I did not owe him any money—the prisoner's first business with me related to supposed claims under his father's estate—I took some pains to raise the loan—the prisoner asked me if I could raise 1,000l. for him under this bill—I took him to my solicitor—I cannot remember now whether I received Cross-examined. I am one of the committee of inspection under the

the acceptance for 75l. before that or not—I took him to my solicitor on the second or third interview—the acceptance for 75l. was at the date of the receipt (25th April)—proceedings are not pending in Chancery between me and Rankin—I have received a writ; that is disposed of—Rankin sued me—no amount was stated, and none is due—Major Jackson received the money which was advanced upon this acceptance—it is not a fact that Rankin received the whole or part of the money.

SIR CHARL✗ES AR✗HUR FAIRLIE CUNINGHAME, BART . I live at Garnoch House, Ryde, Isle of Wight—on my father's death I was obliged to take his proper name to Fairlie by license—the acceptances produced are not in my name or writing—I first saw the prisoner at the police-court—he has never shot grouse or anything else with me—I never authorised him to sign my name.

Cross-examined. My name is not Edward Cuninghame Fairlie—I have borne the name of Cuninghame all my life.

EWEN FRASER . I am butler to Mr. Rufford, of Inchnacardock Lodge, Fort Augustus, who has occupied that Lodge over 30 years—I have been with him Seven years—there is no other house of that name at Fort Augustus—I have never known any one staying there named Edward Cuninghame Fairlie—I remember a letter coming there with that name and being returned through the dead letter office.

CHARLES RICHARDS (Police Sergeant). About 10 o'clock on 15th July I saw the prisoner in the Queen's Head public-house, Pinner—I told him I was a police officer, and should take him in custody for obtaining 9l. 15s. by fraud from Dr. McCully—he said "Oh, those scoundrels have done it, have they? Sweetman brought me here to get me out of their way, as he knew what they were"—I found this acceptance for 75l. on him.

Cross-examined. I did not charge him with forging the acceptance for 285l.—I did not arrest him on this charge.

GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I am an expert in handwriting, and am employed by the Treasury—I have compared the signature of Jackson on the bills of exchange with the signatures admittedly in the prisoner's writing; they are the same writing.

Cross-examined. Juries sometimes disagree with me—they found I was wrong once.

GUILTY of uttering.Five Years' Penal Servitude.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-974
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

974. WILLIAM FARRELL SMITH (45) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 12l., with intent to defraud.

MR. LE BRETON Prosecuted.

SOLOMON SAMUEL WOLF . I am a clothier, of 111, High Street, Shore-dith—on 21st October the prisoner came there between 6 and 7 p.m. and said "I want a suit of clothes the same as I had of you last year"—I showed him a suit—he said "I want an overcoat;" I showed him one—he said "I want a suit for a boy between 11 and 12"—I got him one; he selected them, and I called my cashier—the prisoner produced this cheque. (Signed W. Roberts, in favour of F. Smith, for 12l). I told him I was not in the habit of taking cheques—he said "You know me?"—I said "I cannot remember every customer, I have thousands in twelve months"—he said "You would if you knew whose cheque it is, it is Bertram and Roberts's, of St. James's Hall, I have been doing the gas"—he endorsed it—he gave me his address, 2, Southborough Road, Victoria Park Road

—he asked for the balance—I said "I have not got sufficient cash in the house, if you like to call in the morning I will give you the balance"—he said "I must have some change," and that he wanted to make some other purchase, and I gave him 2l. in gold—he said he would call in the morning—I found that the address he gave was false—he called in the morning before I was down, and said he would call in an hour—he called at 9.45; he was looking out a boy's overcoat when I came in the shop—I had instructed a constable outside—the prisoner asked for the balance of his money—I said "I cannot give it you before I have taken it, come back between 3 and 4 o'clock and I will give you the balance"—he did not come back—I produce the ticket of the suit of clothes, brought to the shop by his wife—this is the boy's suit, which the detective took off a boy—they are mine

JEFFREY FRANK PEMBERTON . I am a clerk in the Upper Norwood branch of the London and County Bank; the prisoner's account there closed on 21st September last—this cheque is from a book issued to him when he had an account—I should say the endorsement is his writing.

WILLIAM JOHN ROBERTS . I am a refreshment contractor, at 69, Regent Street, St. James's Hall—the signature to this cheque is not mine—I have no account at that bank—my brother is the only other member of the firm—the signature is not his.

CHARLES PALMER (Policeman H 392). On 2nd October I went to the prosecutor's shop about 11 a.m., and followed the prisoner out of the shop as far as Shoreditch Church.

HENRY ALEXANDER . I am in Mr. Wolf's service—I saw the prisoner at his shop on 1st October; I gave him a pen and he put his name on the back of this cheque—I saw him again next morning about 9.10—I am sure he is the man.

WILLIAM RALPH (Policeman). I took the prisoner on 9th October—I told him the charge—he said "I have never been to Shoreditch, I do not know anything about the cheque; when I was in New Orleans I had my cheque book stolen, I have no banking account now, I went and drew out all I had"—he gave his address 20, Augusta Road, Shepherd's Bush—I went there and found the suit of clothes produced on the prisoner's son—they have since been identified.

The prisoner in his defence stated that in his absence at New Orleans and other places his papers were lost, and possibly his cheque book among them, that he had not noticed that the person who owed him money gave him one of his own cheques, and that this person said that he had been working for Mr. Roberts, of Piccadilly, and not Bertram and Roberts, or he would have known b✗tter.

GUILTY of uttering.Four Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-975
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > no evidence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

975. CHARLES SMITH (45) and SARAH SMITH (43) , Stealing a bitch, the property of Charles Flood, Charles Smith having been convicted of felony in August, 1877. CHARLES SMITH* PLEADED GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour. MR. BLACKWELL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against SARAH SMITH.—. NOT GUILTY

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-976
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

976. PATRICK LYNES (16) and RICHARD O'LEARY (18) , Robbery with violence on James Murray, and stealing from his person 1s. 11d., his money.

MR. CLUER Prosecuted; MR. PARKES Defended.

JAMES MURRAY . I am a porter of 17, Park Street, Drury Lane—on Saturday the 3rd of October I was in Holborn, a little the worse for drink, between Red Lion Street and Dean Street, about 10.30 p.m.—I was attacked by three or four men and s✗ruck on the side of my head—I had 1s. 11d. in my trousers pocket and I lost it—I cannot swear positively to these men, because it was sudden and I had no chance.

ALEXANDER BAILEY . I live at 8, Saudiland Street, Bedford Row—on 3rd October I was in Holborn about 10.30—I saw some men struggling with Murray, and saw Lynes run from the crowd—I followed him from the corner of Dean Street, up Red Lion Street, down Sandiland Street, and through Red Lion Passage into Red Lion Street again, when a constable caught him—in the chase he put his hand out from him—I afterwards saw O'Leary in Red Lion Street strike the constable who was holding Lynes.

CHARLES HARROD (Policeman E 337). I heard cries of "Stop thief" and "Stop him"—I saw the prisoners at the corner of Eagle Street—I saw Lynes run through, the passage without his hat—I tried to catch hold of him; he got away—I stopped him at the corner of Eagle Street—Murray came up and said he had been assaulted at the top of Red Lion Street by three men, who asked him to give them some drink—he said he was not going to treat them, when one struck him over the eye and the other across his head, and that one put his hand in his trousers pocket and took 1s. 11d.—I took Lynes to the station—on the way a number of men hustled me, then Lynes said "Leave the constable alone, let him take me"—I arrested O'Leary the same night at 12.15, and told him the charge—at the station he said that he had nothing at all to do with it, that he was in the Theobald public-house all the evening—he threatened to be violent—nothing was found on Lynes—I placed O' Leary with four other men, and Murray immediately identified him.

THOMAS BROWN (Policeman E 510). I saw Harrod holding Lynes, and Bailey push O'Leary away, surrounded by a crowd of roughs.

JOHN CARTER (Policeman E 25). On 3rd October I followed the prisoners between 9 and 10 p.m. through Brownlow Street and Bedford Row, and when they got to the corner of Chapel Street they saw me and ran—I next saw Lynes at the station at 12 p.m.

JOHN DAMPIER . I was with Carter and saw the prisoners in Holborn—they went to Bedford Row—I did not see more till I saw them in custody at 12 o'clock—I have no doubt as to their identity.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Lynes says: "I plead guilty to the assault, not to the robbery. O'Leary had nothing to do with it." O'Leary says: "I am not guilty."

GUILTY .—LYNES— Nine Months' Hard Labour. O'LEARY*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-977
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

977. JOHN ARNOLD (19) and CORNELIUS FOGHERTY (21) , Breaking and entering the warehouse of John Mitchel Rooney and another and stealing three rifles, their property.

MR. WILLIS Prosecuted.

FREDERICK MILLARD (City Policeman 721). On Sunday morning, 4th October, I was on duty in the Minories—I heard glass break, watched a few minutes, and sent for assistance—I saw some one get over the door of Mr. Rooney's premises—Fogherty said to me "See, the b—is

here"—I got over a low wall but found no one—I searched about an hour—about 6 a.m. I went to the station, saw the prisoners, and identified Fogherty—I saw a rifle in the yard—I searched other premises afterwards.

JAMES RICHARDSON . I live at 96, Minories, near the prosecutor's warehouse—on Sunday, 4th October, about 1 a.m., I heard a breaking of glass—I got out of bed, looked out at the window, and saw a man on the leads of Mr. Brodie's premises; he dropped down into Mr. Young's premises—it is a big yard—I informed Sergeant Collins and went to the front—I know Fogherty by seeing him at Mr. Knight's in the Minories—the man I saw on the roof, was about Fogherty's stamp, but I do not identify him.

ELI COLLINS (City Police Sergeant 88). From what Richardson told me I went to the back of his premises and through his back window on to some garden walls adjoining Mr. Rooney's premises—I saw a skylight of very thick glass broken; a person falling from the wall above may have broken it—I sent Batchelor down and remained on the top—I made a further examination with my lamp, and I found some one had gone down the other side, from the marks on the wall at the back of Mr. Rooney's premises—I was still on the top—I went through Mr. Young's premises, and in a back yard I found Fogherty in a closet, shut in—I said to him "What are you doing here?"—he said "All right, governor, I'm only having a sleep"—I took him to the station, went back, and found Mr. Rooney's place had been broken into on the first-floor back—the glass and framework of the window were broken—I found these two rifles and cases laid on the stone coping just outside the window, and five yards from another skylight, which was not broken—a pile of two dozen rifles were in the room, of the same kind as these.

JOHN BATCHELOR (City Policeman 868). On this Sunday morning, shortly before 1 o'clock, I was watching Mr. Rooney's warehouse—from information I received from Collins I went to the back of the Welbeck public-house, Vine Street, and through a first-floor window, and on a low building at the rear of 95, Minories, occupied by Mr. Bunting, a pianoforte-maker, I there saw a skylight broken—I procured a short ladder, got through the hole that had been broken in the glass, and found Arnold concealed in a small closet under the staircase at the rear of 95, Minories—I asked him what he was doing there, he said he was running away from a man who had hit him on the head, and he had fallen through the skylight—I took him to the station.

JOHN MITCHEL ROONEY . I am a ship's chandler and provision merchant at 2, Emmett Street—my premises were broken into on the night of 4th October—there were two dozen or more rifles on the first floor—these produced are two of them—three sheets of glass were broken—the window had been screwed up.

GUILTY .* Arnold then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in March, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-978
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

Related Material

978. WILLIAM CONWAY (23) , Unlawfully attempting to burglariously enter the dwelling-house of Francis Newell with intent to steal therein.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.

FRANCIS NEWELL . I live at the Hamborough Tavern, Hayes Bridge—on

21st September I closed my house at 11 p.m.; the shutters were all safe—I was awoke by the police between 2 and 3 a.m.—I went to them, and saw the prisoner—I inspected the house with Inspector Newman—I found the window tampered with, and the taproom shutter was down—some instrument had cut into the wood to push back the catch.

JAMES SPENCER (Policeman X 518). About 1 a.m. on 22nd September I was on duty near Hayes Bridge with Guest—about 150 yards from the Hamborough Tavern I heard a noise of a sash, shutter, or window—I went to the house, and saw the prisoner on the window-ledge—the shutter was down—the prisoner ran away; I ran after him, and brought him back to the tavern—I saw this knife on the window-ledge—the prisoner said he had picked it up and laid it on the window-ledge—I examined the window, and saw that an attempt had been made to get the fastening back; the wood had been cut below the fastening—the prisoner admitted trying to undo the window with a knife; he said that he had had no food, and had made up his mind to break into the house for a good feed and be looked up.

JAMES NEWMAN (Police Inspector). The prisoner was taken about 2 o'clock on 22nd September—he said he was very hungry, and had been out of work, that he had been 10 years in the North Hythe Schools, and was sent from there to America, where he had been employed by some Sisters of Mercy in Toronto, but misconducted himself, and was dismissed, and roamed about two or three months, and afterwards got shipped to England in a cattle boat—I accompanied Mr. Newell back to the house, and found that some sharp instrument had been used under the catch of the window—I made inquiry, and found what the prisoner said about the North Hythe Schools was correct—it is a workhouse school.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I wished to get something to eat, and I went to sit down. I heard a policeman come running up the road, and I ran on the bridge, and that is all I done."

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy.One Month's Imprisonment.

THIRD COURT.—Saturday, October 24th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-979
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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979. WILLIAM WELLS (81) and WILLIAM EDWARD DODD (45) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 10l. 10s., with intent to defraud.

MR. LYNE Prosecuted; MR. CLUER defended Dodd.

The RECORDER considered that the evidence was insufficient to show fraud, and instructed the Jury to return a verdict of


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-980
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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980. JAMES EDWARD CLARKE (32) , Stealing a watch, the property of George Wells, from his person.

MR. MARSHALL HALL Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

GEORGE WELLS . I am a sailor—I life at Doddington Terrace, Lilliput Road, Canning Town—on 10th October, about 8.15, I was in Canning Town, about half-way between the Tidal Basin and Barking Station—I was wearing a watch chain and a silver hunter lever watch in my left waistcoat pocket—I felt a tug at my watch chain, and saw the prisoner's hand with the watch in it—he let it go, and it dropped into my hand—it

was not then attached to the chain—the bow was broken as it is now—I have not seen the bow since—I followed the prisoner, and gave him in custody—I never lost sight of him—he said that I had made a mistake, he was not the man—three or more people were near him; neither of those took my watch—it is worth 4 guineas—there was plenty of light.

Cross-examined. There were stalls along the kerb—this was a busy time and a busy place—the prisoner was sideways to me—I followed him about 15 yards—he went between the stalls—I can't say whether he passed other openings.

WILLIAM HAMMOND (Policeman K R 50). About 8.15 on 10th October I was on duty in Victoria Dock Road, about midway between the tidal basin and Barking Station—the prisoner passed, and a second afterwards Wells came up and said in the prisoner's hearing "Take that man in custody for stealing my watch"—the prisoner went between two stalls into the road—I went after him and caught him—I said I should take him for stealing the watch—he said "You have taken the wrong man; how could I steal your watch if there was another man with me?"—Wells said that he was the man, he had not lost sight of him—I took the prisoner to the station—he was charged—he said to Wells "If I stole your watch and broke the bow, and you catch it in your hand, you must have had it there for the purpose; you have got the wrong man"—the street is well lighted.

Cross-examined. Wells said "There was another man with you, a tall, thin young man."


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-981
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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981. THEOPHILUS THOMAS PHILIPS, Committing an indecent act with William Barrett. Other Counts for an indecent assault and an attempt to commit b—y.

MR. MARSHALL HALL Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.

The prisoner received a good character.


OLD COURT.—Monday, October 19th, 1885, and five following days.

Before Mr. Justice Field.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-982
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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982. JAMES MALCOLM (31) was indicted for feloniously marrying Emma Dash in the County of Sussex, his wife being then alive.

MESSRS. POLAND and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; the Prisoner defended himself during the first part of the case, afterwards MR. FILLAN appeared for him.

This case was tried at the last Sessions, and is fully reported at pages 592 to 627 inclusive. In addition to the evidence then given, the following witnesses were examined for the prosecution.

WILLIAM THOMAS BEDFORD . I am a waiter at the Dolphin Hotel, Chichester—I remember Miss Dash coming to the hotel on Saturday, 4th April—the prisoner is the man who came with her—they had a private sitting-room and a bedroom—they stayed there until the Monday—I was the waiter for that sitting-room, and I did wait on them during that time—I next saw the prisoner at the Guildhall, on 21st July, when this case was being heard—I was subpoenaed there for the Treasury—I recognised him then—I don't know whether he saw me—I did not see him again till the 5th September, when he came again to the Dolphin—he wished

me good evening when he came in with another gentleman—I have no idea who that gentleman was—the prisoner ordered rooms and had tea—he asked me several questions—I did not pay much attention to them; I don't recollect them; it was concerning this case, I don't recollect the exact words—he asked me whether a certain party had been down—I saw him arrive at the hotel, I don't think he had any luggage—I recognised him as the same man I had seen at the Guildhall, and the same man who had stayed with Miss Dash—I don't think anything was said to me by the prisoner or the other gentleman about his being the same man—the other gentleman was a tall man, rather inclined to be sandy—the gentleman there (pointing to a gentleman in Court) looks very much like him only he was taller than that—they left at 7 o'clock on the Monday—I saw the prisoner again on the 19th, he came down and bad tea; he came with another gentleman, not the same gentleman that came before—he came to ask questions I suppose—nothing much passed then—he asked me whether I recognised him as the man—he said to me "Waiter, you look very suspicious at me"—he said "Do you really think that I am the man?" and I said that he was—that was all that passed I think—no offer was made—he left the same evening—on the 5th he asked a lot of different questions; I really could not tell you what they were; of course I made up my mind that I would not satisfy him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You asked me at Chichester why I was not called as a witness at Guildhall—I said I did not know, and I did not know—I don't recollect your asking me on the first occasion when I had seen you before—I remembered when I was at Guildhall that I had seen you at the Dolphin on the 4th, and so did my fellow servant Scott; he is dead—when you asked me the questions I would not satisfy you—I might have said that I was not called because I had not told them when and where I had seen him—it is the fact that I do remember you on the 4th—you had a bottle of port wine for the first thing and some biscuits, and you ordered a carriage—I had no conversation with Scott on the arrival at the hotel of Captain Macdonald and his wife—Scott did not recognise the lady to my recollection; he did not tell me so—I did not at Guildhall see the solicitor or his clerk who subpoenaed me; they did not call me—I was paid a sovereign for my expenses for attending—when the hearing was over I left at 4 o'clock.

RICHARD TOURLE . I am a coachman in the service at the Dolphin Hotel, Chichester—I remember on 4th April last driving out Miss Dash and a gentleman from the hotel—the prisoner is that gentleman—I drove them to Goodwood racecourse and back—we were gone about two hours and a half—I drove them again next day, Sunday, for two hours—I had no conversation with the prisoner on that day—on the Saturday I had; in coming down off the course I was obliged to use the skid, so as to let the horse walk quietly, and the gentleman asked me if I could not take a service better than that, would I go abroad with him for four years, that he was a captain of a ship—I said no, on account of my having a wife and two little chubbies—the lady who was riding with him said something to him which I could not catch, and said "He has a respect for his wife"—I saw the prisoner again when he came down to the Dolphin—I was rather busy, and cannot fix a certain date; it was this month—it might be eight or nine days ago, or more, I won't say to a day—he came and inquired for me, and our ostler came and found me,

and the gentleman said "I am come to subpoena you, Richard"—I said "It is no use; I am already subpoenaed"—a few words passed—he had another gentleman with him—I said "I am going to speak the truth, for I don't want two years myself"—the other gentleman said "Well, all you can say is that you think he is the man"—he did not say who or what he was; he was a young gentleman—he said that for me to say—I turned round and deliberately says "You are the man"—the gentleman who was with him paid to me "Here, old fellow, is a shilling, that will get you a damp"—they shook hands with me and left—on 4th or 5th April, when we were out driving, he said to me "You are a jolly sort of chap; what is your name?" and I said "Richard Tourle."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not given evidence before—I have never seen you since I left you in the yard—I did not accept the shilling ae a bribe; the other gentleman gave it me as a damp—there was no bribery attached to it—all the gentleman said to me was to speak the truth—I said I must speak the truth, for I did not want two years, and I was already subpoenaed—he did not ask me to say anything but the truth—I never saw you except on the 4th and 5th, and the day you came down to see me at the beginning of the month (Referring to a book)—on the 28th I have the name of "Black wood"—I put down the jobs every day—I took a corpse on that day from Ashfield to Portchurch—on the 21st I drove Mr. Orga, the auctioneer, to Westbourne and back; he went by himself; nobody came home with him—I have his name here—I have an entry of 4th April—my master has a book against me, and he checks me with the book—I do not get any pay—I trust to what people give—this book is kept as a check between me and my master—I pay in my money every night—there is no name in my book on April 4th; that was a house job, and they pay in the hotel—every time I do a job I book it—I recollect the two persons I took—I had to put my head to work—I am not employed there now—I am a master now—I left because I was summoned on this case, and I had to get a week's holiday—I did not leave for any misconduct—I left on my own account.

MARY SELDON . I am the daughter of the proprietor of the New Inn at Hurst, Sussex—I remember Miss Dash coming there on Good Friday with a gentleman—the prisoner is the man—he ordered dinner, and they went upstairs into a sitting-room and had tea; I waited on them—I don't recollect what drink they had—they had Lent pies and roast beef, and he asked me to make him a milk pudding, and I made it—I next law him last Tuesday at our house—I did not speak to him—he came with another man—they were driven over in a fly—they both came into the house—I went into the bar-parlour, and sent my father into the bar to serve them—I heard the prisoner speak to my father—I heard a part of what he said—he asked him if he recollected two persons coming to his house on Good Friday—he told him he did—he asked him if he recognised him as that gentleman—he said no, he did not see sufficient of him to know him again; his daughter waited on them, and she saw more of him than anybody else, and he asked to see me—my father said it was best not—then they had some more conversation, but I did not hear it all—he again asked to see me—my father told him that if I saw him I should not tell him anything either way—I did not hear any more, and he went away—he did not speak to me.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was about tea time when they came;

it was not dark; it was dusk—I don't know whether the lamps were lighted; we have no gas—I saw you get out of the fly and come into the house—I have not been examined as a witness before—I first saw this case in the paper—my evidence was first given to-day—I don't recollect seeing any solicitor—no gentleman has taken down my evidence—I was asked to come here; I have been subpoenaed—that is the gentleman who subpoenaed me—he simply came and said I was subpoenaed here as a witness—I really forget what he said—I simply told him who I knew came to our house on Good Friday—I told him noting more.

Re-examined. I recognise him by his speech, besides his face—I forget whether that gentlemen subpoenaed me after last Tuesday or before.

EMMA DICKERSON . I live at Park Street, St. Albans, with my mother and sister—I am 19 years of age—on 10th June this year I was at Harpenden Races with my sister Martha and Miss Harding—we met two men there; I had not known them before—the prisoner is one of them—he first spoke to Miss Harding—I was not with them at the moment, I was a little distance on—I saw him speak to her; he afterwards got into convention with me—Miss Harding introduced me; she said "This is Miss Dickerson"—she did not give me his name—he stayed in my company for some little time; the conversation was chiefly about the horses and other matters—the other man was there too—after that we were all together, us three and the two men; we walked about—after the races we met the two men in the evening; they did not go with us; we left them there, and we drove home with some friends to St. Albans—we met them again in the evening by appointment; they made the appointment—we walked with them—we saw them against the Town Hall and went out to them—I had some conversation with the prisoner that evening—his name was given on the racecourse; it was written on a paper by the other man, Frederick Deane; the prisoner was present—Deane put down his own name and address on a piece of paper, and put the prisoner's underneath it—I did not ask them for their address; they offered it—Deane wrote his name and address for Miss Harding, and then wrote the prisoner's under it—I don't know whether the prisoner saw him write it, he was close by—I did not see the prisoner again till I had a letter from him; it is destroyed—after that I addressed him by the same that was written down—I saw him on the following Sunday—I then addressed him as Macdonald; that was the same signed in the letter, James Macdonald—when I addressed him as Macdonald he answered me—I don't think he mentioned who or what he was—he said afterwards that he had a business—I saw him altogether about three or four times, and was in his company for some time for about a month—he came down to St. Albans, chiefly on Sunday—I also saw him in London; I went to the theatre with him.

By the COURT. Our conversation was such as men and women talk about, about love—he made the appointment to meet him in London—I met him at Euston and went to the theatre with him—I saw him in London on three days; I stayed in London.

By MR. AVORY. I don't remember the last time I saw him before he was taken into custody—he gave me a brooch, ear-rings, and a ring at different times; I have those now—I afterwards saw the name of Macdonald in the paper—in consequence of that my sister came up to Guild

hall—after that I saw the prisoner at home, at St. Albans; he came to my mother's house, he had been there before—he came to ask my forgiveness—he said "Will you forgive me?"—of course he then knew that I knew he was married: he told my sister so—he had some conversation with my sister; my mother was present—after that I received this letter from the prisoner. (Read: "251, Essex Road, Islington, 9th October, 1885. Dear Emma,—George has come home delighted with his visit to St. Albans, and your kind attention to him, and for which he will he soon down again at no distant date. Mrs. Malcolm and the children came home last week. The little ones are anxious to see you; you must come up one day soon, and have a drive round the forest. I shall be only too pleased to do all I can for you through George or my solicitor, and if it is in my power I shall be glad to help your brother. My sisters desire to be kindly remembered to you. I am, yours truly, J. MALCOLM Compliments to mother, Patty, and self.") I first heard the name of Malcolm in connection with the prisoner when the notice appeared in the paper—I had seen him on the Monday previous—that was the last Monday I saw him—what I saw in the paper was the account of the hearing at Guildhall—this (produced) is the envelope in which the letter came, and this is another. (These bore the stamps respectively of June 9th and 25th.) I have not kept any of the letters; they were signed "James Macdonald"—I received this telegram from him. (This was from James Macdonald, 50, Newgate Street: "Shall try and come down Wednesday Hope all well.") I had written to the prisoner to that address under the name of Macdonald—that was the address originally written on the paper by Deane—the "George" mentioned in the letter is the prisoner's brother; he had been down to see us; I mean to see my sister and mother and all of us—that was after my sister had been up to Guildhall—I see the brother in Court now.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. The day they were first introduced to us it was through having protected us from some roughs, who were robbing one of our party—that was after the prisoner had introduced himself to us—he once saw me without my sister—at all the interviews in London my sister was always present—he introduced me to his sisters, not while I was in London; we went there purposely to be introduced—that was after July, after I had seen the account in the papers, and after he had asked my forgiveness.

By the COURT. I had to forgive him because he led me on to believe I was going to be married to him.

MARTHA DICKERSON . I reside with the last witness, my sister, at Park Street, St. Albans—I was at the Harpenden Races with my sister and Miss Harding in June last, where I saw the prisoner and another man—we got into conversation—I saw the other man write on a piece of paper his own name ("Fredk. Deane, care of Mr. Steele, Imperial Arcade," or "Buildings," "Ludgate Circus"), and the prisoner's name as "J. Macdonald, 50, Newgate Street"—they came to St. Albans on the following Sunday—we went for a walk, my sister and Miss Harding being with me—I addressed the prisoner by the name of Macdonald, which I believed to be his name—I afterwards saw him in London—I knew my sister was going to the theatre with him, but the acquaintance was short then—he seemed to get more familiar as time advanced—I knew the prisoner had given my sister a ring, which she wore on the third finger

of the left hand—I thought he was paying his addresses to her—I should have objected very strongly to her receiving presents from a man unless. I thought he was paying his honourable addresses to her, and that was the footing on which he stood with me—I saw this case in the paper—I do not remember how long it was before that that I saw the prisoner—I came up to the Guildhall Police-court, where I saw the prisoner outside—I do not remember the date—he spoke to me first, and asked how I had heard of it—I told him I had seen the case in the paper, and had come up to see for myself what it was—I do not remember his reply—he said he was very sorry that Emma should have been led to believe that his intentions were like that towards her, but might he see her—I said yes, and he said he would come down on the following Saturday, if possible, and he came and asked my sister's forgiveness, which she gave—I afterwards saw the prisoner's brother George in London, and, afterwards at my home.

Cross examined. He gave me nothing but a pair of gloves—the prisoner on no occasion had any spirituous liquor when I had refreshment with him.

MARIAN HARDING . I live in Park Street, St. Albans—I know the Miss Dickersons—I was with them at the Harpenden Races on 10th June last—we there met the prisoner and another man—afterwards on various occasions we met them—on one occasion I went with them to Woolwich by boat from Charing Gross Pier—I did not come up with the Miss Dickersons, I followed up later in the evening—in coming back I had some conversation with the prisoner—he said that we should have a pleasant voyage to Africa, as he would be the captain of the vessel we should sail in—I saw him again on 29th June—I had constantly heard that we were going to Africa, Deane and I and Miss Dickerson and Macdonald—Deane paid his addresses to me, and it was arranged that after our marriage we should go to Africa in a ship of which the prisoner was to be the captain—the name of the ship was not mentioned to my knowledge—the last time I saw the prisoner or Deane was on 29th June—I saw the prisoner last at the Criterion—I addressed him as James Macdonald, and he answered, adopting that name.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I did not see him again till last Monday here—since he was at the police-court I have not had any conversation with him; I have with his brother George.

For the defence the following additional witnesses were called:

JANE MARTIN . I am a servant in the employ of Mr. Malcolm—I entered the service two years ago in October—I was there at Easter—I remember the Good Friday week—I remember Robert sailing for Australia—a few days before that the family met and had their photographs taken—I remember the date; it was my birthday—I remember the Sunday following that Saturday—Mr. Malcolm was there all day; he did not go out at all day long—there were visitors, the two Miss Malcolms and Mr. George Malcolm, the brother—there was no one else at dinner—after dinner Mr. Williamson was there—I know Mr. Malcolm's slippers; there are no initials on them.

Cross-examined. I have not been called before—I was in London when the last trial was going on—I remember Good Friday morning; I did not see the prisoner there then—I am not sure whether I got up at 7 o'clock or half-past 6 or a quarter to 7—I did not see the prisoner when

I got up—I did not see him on the Thursday night—I remember the Easter Monday; I do not remember whether I saw him on Easter Monday—I do not know the earliest time that I saw him on the Easter Tuesday; I do not know that I saw him at all on Tuesday—I do not remember whether I saw him on Monday or Tuesday first—be generally stopped at home on Sundays—I do not remember seeing any luggage on Thursday sight or Good Friday morning.

Re-examined. I saw him on Thursday afternoon about 3 or 4 o'clock—I do not remember how long he was at home, but I think he went out about 4 to half-past; that is the nearest I can say—I do not know where he went to—he had luggage with him when he went away; I know there was a black portmanteau—I do not know whether he went away in a cab, I did not see him—I think he carried the portmanteau away with him, it was not very large—I do not know whether he had a great-coat with him—I did not see him go—I saw the portmanteau on the bed in his room, and after he had gone it was gone—it was the one he usually travels with—he was packing it; that was about 4 o'clock—I do not remember when I first missed it—I waited on them and did the household work—I turned down the beds in the afternoon and emptied the slops—in the afternoon the portmanteau wan gone.

THOMAS MARTLEW . I was employed at the Clarendon Hotel last Easter as porter—I remember a gentleman occupying room No. 43—he came on the Thursday before Good Friday about mid-day—I was in the hall when he arrived—he brought with him a Gladstone bag, which I carried upstairs—I saw the gentleman in his bedroom; I went to room No. 43—I saw him go out, very shortly after—on Saturday morning, between 7 and 8, I was sitting in the hall—he came downstairs and ordered breakfast for four or five persons—I don't remember what breakfast it was—I heard him order it of Mrs. Harper; I was standing by—I did not hear exactly the words; the prisoner is not the Captain Macdonald—I saw the prisoner on Good Friday in the hotel—he came to me and asked me if we had a bed—I said "No;" but referred him to the manageress, Mrs. Harper—she asked me if I knew of any hotel we could recommend the gentleman to—I said the "Victoria," and Mrs. Harper recommended him to go there, and he went—I saw him again on the Monday following at the Clarendon Hotel about 7 in the evening, speaking to the manageress—after Captain Macdonald had had his breakfast, before he went away, he asked me to have his bag brought down—I brought it down into the hall, and shortly after that he called for it—I gave it to him, and he went away with it in his hand—it was a dark coloured bag—I have never seen him since.

Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I was not called at the last trial—I was in Court as a witness waiting—I can't say the time that Captain Macdonald took his bag away; it might have been an hour, not more, after he told me to bring it down, perhaps not so much—I did not go into the breakfast-room at all where his breakfast was—Captain Macdonald was a tallish gentleman, stout, about 5 feet 8 or 9—he was taller than me; I am 5 feet 6—his hair was rather darker than mine; mine is brown, his was darker, and he had a full beard and large moustache—I should think he was nearly 40—I can't say what dress he had on when he arrived on Thursday—I didn't take that notice, or to his eyes or his eyebrows—I have heard the prisoner speak at the Clarendon Hotel—

I have seen him there since he was charged with this offence—his voice is not at all like Captain Macdonald's—I am not at the Clarendon now; I ceased to be porter there shortly after last Easter—I am out of employment now—I saw the prisoner at the Clarendon about six weeks ago; one of the waiters from there came for me—I heard last week for the first time I was being inquired for by Cross the detective—I was living at 5, North Street Cottage—I can't say how the Clarendon people came to know my address—Gourley, the waiter, would know, because he, being a fellow-servant, used to come to my house—I have been finding employment as an hotel porter—there was another person employed there as night porter at Easter named Hughes—he is there now as far as I know.

Re-examined. There has been a change of management since Easter—I have not been deriving an income at all since I have been out—it was the night porter's duty to clean the boots—I live with my wife—no one else lives in the house.

JENNIE STEARS . In the Easter week I was book keeper and barmaid at the Clarendon; I am still there—on Thursday in that week, some time in the day, I remember a Captain Macdonald coming—I let him a room, No. 43; that was the last exclusive room—the prisoner is certainly not the gentleman—I saw the prisoner on Good Friday—I had known him about a year and a half before through his coming to the Clarendon bar—he used to come about once in six months—I have seen him about six times altogether—he used to come to the bar and sit down and talk, and go out again—it was usually on Sundays—I saw him on the Sunday after Good Friday in the bar about mid-day between 12 and 3—1 saw him again in the evening between 7 and 8—he had a lunch there, mid-day—I don't remember why he came back between 7 and 8, but I remember his standing and talking to us at the bar—he was there about half an hour—there was myself and the manageress at the bar.

Cross-examined. We do not have many persons come to the bar besides those staying in the hotel; there are some; they would go into the smoking-room as a rule—persons who come into the bar are friends of mine or the manageress—I know the prisoner's name as Mr. Malcolm—he told us it on a previous occasion when he came—I remember a man coming to the hotel making inquiries—I don't remember that man (Cross) coming—he did not make inquiries of me; I don't remember seeing him—it was before the last trial—he came into the hall and then went into the smoking room with Mrs. Harper—I heard some inquiries, but not through him—I don't think it was he who asked me; I won't swear he did not—I have heard recently of inquiries being made at the hotel for the porter Martlew; last week I think—I am sure Cross did not make inquiries of me, or in my presence, about Martlew some time ago—I knew nothing of Martlew last week—when the inquiries were made I inquired at the hotel about him, because a gentleman asked me for Martlew's address, and I could not give it him, and I asked Hughes the porter, and he said he did not know—I told the gentleman that—he asked me if we could not find out his address from a reference, if any one had referred to us for his character—I said "No;" I thought he had not had a situation since he left us; that was all that passed—I took no further steps to find this man's address beyond inquiring of Hughes—this was last week; I remember it quite well—I was first asked to

give evidence in this case about three weeks before the last trial—Mr. Hicks had been down to the hotel before my evidence was taken—the prisoner had been down shortly before and seen me—I was present here at the last trial, but was not called—there is a strong resemblance of the prisoner to the man Macdonald; he is like him; he was the same build, but a little taller, a little darker, and his beard was a little longer—I would not say that he is a totally different man from the prisoner—I should not be likely to mistake one for the other—I heard Macdonald's voice and I have heard the prisoner's—I could not tell you whether there was any resemblance—I have no recollection of voices at all.

Re-examined. I have not the slightest interest in this case one way or the other.

LIZZIE WHITE . I was head chambermaid at the Clarendon Hotel, Brighton, in the Easter week, and am so now—I remember the gentleman who occupied room No. 43—I had not heard his name—he spoke to me when he came in on the Thursday evening—I took him to his room—he asked me for a fire, and said he had a cold and was suffering from the toothache, and wanted a good fire—I saw him again that night, about 11 o'clock I should think it was; he was then going to bed—I also saw him on the Friday morning—the prisoner is not the man, he very much resembles him.

Cross-examined. The other man was broader and darker, rather darker, not much, and he was a little taller; he had not got so much hair on his face—I do not remember his dress—I heard Macdonald's voice and the prisoner's, there was a resemblance—Macdonald ordered the fire about 8 o'clock as near as I can say—I was first asked to recollect about this man Macdonald, who had been there at Easter, last month—I think it was August; it was shortly before the last trial—I was present at the last trial, but was not called.

HENRY REWALL . I reside at Charles Street, Brighton, and am a lodging-house keeper and occasional waiter—in the Easter week I was engaged at the Clarendon as an occasional waiter—I remember waiting on a party there on Saturday; a man named Harper waited at the commencement, at the sitting down—the dishes were all placed before the company arrived—I laid the breakfast for four to the best of my recollection—I believe five came, three ladies and two gentlemen—one was a tall gentleman and the other a stoutish gentleman, dark, to the best of my recollection—I put in those words because I had other things to attend to—I don't remember who they were or how many—I believe the prisoner was not one of the party.

By the Court. I could not swear he was not or he was.

JOSEPH HARPER . I am a lodging-house keeper and occasional waiter—in the Easter week I was engaged as waiter at the Clarendon—I had known Mrs. and Miss Dash previously as residents in Brighton—I am no relation of the manageress, I had never seen her before I went there the Easter week—I was engaged for five days—I took two bottles of champagne in to a breakfast, at which Mrs. and Miss Dash were, in the Easter week—I only noticed two gentlemen there; a stout gentleman was sitting near Miss Dash—I don't recollect any gentleman sitting next to Miss Dash—I did not see the prisoner, he was not there to my recollection—I will not swear he was not—the stout gentleman had no

resemblance to the prisoner, he was taller and stouter as far as I can remember.

Cross-examined. The stout gentleman took the champagne from me and handed it to Mrs. and Miss Dash.

GEORGE COTTON . I am a fly driver at Brighton—I have known Miss Dash about twelve years—on Good Friday last I drove her to Hurst with a gentleman—I have a recollection of the appearance of that gentleman; it was not the prisoner.

Cross-examined. He was a dark complexioned man—the prisoner is not anything like him.

ELIZA HILL . I am the wife of William Hill, of the Marine Tavern, Brighton—I have known Miss Dash by sight four years—our house is three doors from theirs; ours is 13, theirs is 10—I remember the Good Friday week I saw Miss Dash on Good Friday going away in a cab with a gentleman—I had seen that gentleman once before with Miss Dash on the Monday or Tuesday in that same week, and I saw him when they went away on the Saturday morning when Page the cabman took them in a Victoria—they went towards the station—I have not a distinct recollection of the gentleman.

CHARLES GARDNER . I am a fly driver of Brighton—I have known Miss Dash about twelve months—I saw her on Good Friday in Broad Street; she got into a cab and went away to Hurst, I believe—Cotton was the driver—a gentleman was with her—I should recollect him if I saw him—the prisoner is not the man.

Cross-examined. The driver asked me to mind his horse while he drank half a pint of ale—I was a few yards off when they got into the cab—they drove past me—that was all I saw of him.

GEORGE PHILLIPS . I am a luggage porter—I have known Miss Dash six or seven years—I have been in the habit of going to the house with luggage—I remember the Good Friday week—on the Thursday night a cab pulled up there; a gentleman got out of it—I don't know what gentleman it was—on Good Friday I saw a gentleman in a cab with Miss Dash—Cotton was the driver, they drove towards St. James's Street—I saw the gentleman again on the Saturday morning in Broad Street, as near 10 as possible—Miss Dash was with him—they went into No. 10—I had heard at that time of Miss Dash's marriage—I took notice of the gentleman—I saw him again when they got into a Victoria—I was standing two or three yards from them—Page was the driver—I have a good recollection of the gentleman—the prisoner is not the man.

Cross-examined. He resembles him rather—I have not given evidence in this case before—I was not present at the last trial—I have seen the prisoner since the last trial.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

NEW COURT.—Monday, October 26th, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Day.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-983
VerdictsGuilty > lesser offence; Not Guilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

983. WILLIAM JACKSON (21) , Rape on Charlotte Elizabeth Cox, alias Carter , and HENRY WHITING, Feloniously aiding and assisting in the commission of the said offence.


appeared for Jackson, and MR. MOYSES for Whiting.

JACKSON— GUILTY of the attempt.Twenty-one Months' Hard Labour. WHITING— NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, October 26th and 27th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-984
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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984. WILLIAM HENEY WALDEN and WILLIAM HENRY JAMES ALEXANDER , Stealing 42 bags of sugar, the property of Edward Harris and another; and other goods, the property of other persons.

MR. MURPHY, Q.C., Prosecuted; MR. COCK Defended.

MR. COCK submitted that there was no evidence of stealing against Walden. The COURT concurring, MR. MURPHY intimated that he should not press the case further, the COURT directed the Jury to return a verdict of NOT GUILTY; and MR. MURPHY said he should accept the same course with regard to ALEXANDER— NOT GUILTY .

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-985
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

Related Material

985. WILLIAM HENRY SHOOSMITH (28) , Writing and publishing a libel concerning Henry Harvey, William Rowe, and Francis Marsh.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted.

WILLIAM ROWE . I live at 11, Northwood Road, Highgate, and on 9th September I went to 9, Orchard Road, Highgate, with Mr. Harvey, the landlord of the premises of which the prisoner was tenant—I saw a number of notices posted in the windows of the house in the prisoner's writing. (The libels charged)—I made copies of B and C in a policeman's presence—he marked them as being correct—I am the person referred to as Rowe, builder, of Holmesdale Road—the Mr. Harvey, of 93, Notting Hill Gate, is the landlord; he is a fishmonger—the Mr. Marsh referred to is an auctioneer, who carries on business at Upper Holloway—on 11th September I received by post this letter and envelope (produced)—they are in the prisoner's writing.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The night before your goods were taken away I paid you a visit—you told me you had obtained an appointment as classical reader on the Clarendon Press at Oxford, and that you were going a month on trial the following Saturday, and that you could raise the money to pay the landlord—you said nothing to me about your wife and children, or anything about your wanting to be as quiet as you could the next few days, so that you might pursue your studies in order to insure your success at Oxford; or that it was a magnificent chance, and, in fact, the chance of your life—when I went into the room, you were sitting in a chair with your arms folded—I only noticed one book on the table—when I left I told you I should go and see your landlord, and tell him what you said, and that I had done with the matter—you told me that landlords could afford to lose rents—I told you I should have nothing more to do with the matter, and the landlord would send somebody else—I did not give you notice, for I had done with the matter—I never said to you since these proceedings that your appointment at Oxford was all a hoax—I have said to people that I had certain information that you had not got the appointment at Oxford—the inquiry before the Magistrate has been in the newspapers—I had a letter from the Clarendon Press, Oxford

—I wrote this letter: "Dear Sirs,—Will you kindly inform me if there is any truth in the statement that Mr. Shoosmith, of 9, Orchard Road, Highgate, London, was to come to Oxford on Saturday last, 5th September, 1885, to fulfil an engagement as classical reader on the Clarendon Press at a salary of 250l. per annum; also that he sent you a telegram on Saturday giving up the appointment? An early answer will greatly oblige yours truly, W. Rowe."—I received this answer from the University Press, Oxford: "It is against our rule to answer questions about anybody's private affairs. In the present case we so far make an exception as to say that it is under consideration for Mr. Shoosmith to be employed at this Press; otherwise we answer no to both your questions."

There being no plea of justification, the COURT directed the Jury to find a verdict of GUILTY .— Discharged on his own recognisance in 25l. to come up for judgment if called upon.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-986
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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986. WILLIAM MATTHEWS (23), THOMAS ISRAEL (35), and WILLIAM NORRIS (17) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Day, and stealing therein four gold chains and other articles, value 30l., his property. MATTHEWS and NORRIS PLEADED GUILTY .

MR. FIRMINGER Prosecuted.

GEORGE BRUCE (Policeman D 293). At 11 p.m. on 8th September I was in Park Road, where I saw Matthews drunk and disorderly—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him nine pairs of ear-drops, one gold locket, one metal watch, 12s. 6d. in silver, and other articles, also a pawn-ticket—he was detained, as he gave an unsatisfactory account of them—he said he was a hawker.

J. DAY. I am son of Mr. Day, a jeweller, of 4, Chippenham Road, Paddington—on 7th September the premises were fastened up about 12.30 p.m.—I was awakened about 3 a.m.—I went downstairs, found the shutter pushed up about a foot, and the window broken about five or six inches across—I missed from the shop, jewellery to the amount of about 30l., including rings, chains, locket, seal, compasses, brooch, watch, &c.—I have since identified them in the hands of the police.

JOSEPH JOHN LEE . I am a coachsmith, of 12, Richmond Street, Kennington Road—about mid-day on 8th September I met the prisoners at the Prince Alfred public-house—I had some conversation with them, and afterwards went to my home with them—we had some more liquor, and Norris was put to bed, as he was so drunk—we had some tea in the front room—my wife came in, and I came downstairs and went into the backyard for a while, and Matthews gave my wife a pair of ear-rings, and Israel gave her a brooch as I entered the room, and handed a watch to me—I afterwards went with them to my mother-in-law, with the intention of going to the theatre—I gave the watch to a man to be repaired.

Cross-examined by Israel. Matthews spoke to me first—I did not buy the watch—I did not give Matthews half a sovereign for it—I did not ask if you would go with me to Lambeth—you are a stranger to me—I did not say I would dispose of the articles and get more than Matthews could—when we left the public-house we went along Oxford Street and had some drink—we did not get on an omnibus at the corner of Regent's Circus—my mother-in-law pawned the chain—she did not call on some one else to pawn a watch and chain—you did not gave my wife a locket.

Re examined. The brooch and earrings I identify as having been given to my wife—a ring was given to me after Norris got off the bed—"It is of no value," he said, "here is a ring you can have."

ALEXANDER PIKE (Police Sergeant X). I was called at 4 a.m. on 8th September to 4, Chippenham Road, and found an entry had been effected by lifting the revolving shutter, which was not safely secured by a bolt—a hole was broken in the plate-glass window in the centre, sufficient for a man to pass his arm in—there were several spots of blood on the glass pointed out, and on the window-sill—I took Matthews and Norris in custody—I arrested Matthews at the police-court on the 16th—I told him he would be charged with breaking into Mr. Day's shop in Chippenham Road and stealing a quantity of jewellery—I was present when Israel was arrested on the evening of the 16th, when I went with Sergeant James and Sergeant Martin to 126, Cambridge Road—all the prisoners reside in the same house—I told Norris he would be charged with his brother, with breaking and entering 4, Chippenham Road, and stealing a quantity of jewellery therefrom—he said "All right, Sir"—Martin told Israel the charge in my presence, and he said "All right"—they were conveyed to Harrow Road Police-station, placed amongst eight or nine others, and picked out by Lee.

ROSETTA LEE . I am the wife of the former witness—on 8th September he brought home the prisoners, who were the worse for drink—Norris was taken to bed—during his absence the others had some tea—I went out to fetch them, and on my return I found Matthews lying in the passage—I went into the front room and Israel gave me a brooch—Matthews gave me some earrings, and gave my husband a present—he afterwards left the house.

ANN PEARSON . I am the wife of Edward Pearson, of 11, High Street, Lambeth—Lee is my son-in-law—he came to my house on 8th September with Matthews and Israel, who were the worse for liquor—Matthews asked me in the prisoner's presence to take a chain to pledge, as they were going to the theatre—I did so, and brought back 25s., less 1d. for the ticket, which I gave to Matthews.

Cross-examined by Israel. You were quite strangers to me.

Israel in his defence said he met Norris and Matthews coming out of the Clarendon public-house; that he went with them to a public-home in Marylebone Lane, where they met Lee, who agreed to give Matthews half a sovereign for the watch; that they went to Lambeth with him, when Matthews showed Lee two chains, which he agreed to give 30s. for; that they went to two or three public-houses, and afterwards to Lee's house, where they had some tea; that Matthews then gave Lee's wife the articles in question, and that he knew nothing of any robbery.

Witness for the Defence.

WILLIAM MATTHEWS . I have pleaded guilty to this charge—Norris and I first met Israel on the morning of the 8th, after the robbery—we went into a public-house, where we met Lee—we went to his house—he directed me to sell these things—Israel knew nothing of how the property came into my hands.

Cross-examined. I and the prisoners are half-brothers, and live together—I do not often have jewellery in my possession—my brother Israel only saw a bit of it at a time—we met him on the morning of the 8th coming out of the Clarendon public-house—it is four or five minutes' walk from Chippenham Road—he goes round every morning looking for work, translating—I met him at the public house at 10.30 or 11—I was convicted for larceny at Marlebone and had three months' imprisonment—I wish to say that Lee is one of the stolen property buyers in Marylebone.

ISRAEL— NOT GUILTY . MATTHEWS and NORRIS then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, Matthews at Marylebone in January, 1881, and Norris in the name of Morris** at the same Court on 28th January, 1884.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-987
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

987. ALFRED GOLDSMITH (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Wigglesworth, and stealing two coats, seven boxes of cigars, and other articles, his property.

MR. R. COOPER-WILLIS Prosecuted.

WILLIAM WIGGLESWORTH . I keep the Friend in Need public-house, Colonnade, Bloomsbury—about 12.30 on Saturday, 3rd October, we went to bed, having fastened up; and turned out all the gas but one burner in the middle of the bar—I went down about 7.30 a.m., and found two folding-doors inside wide open—in the lobby a stool was placed against the door; it had been used to unbolt the door—the cellar-flap was open, and they had got into the beer-cellar and up the stairs, and then the door was unlocked, and there were marks where a chisel had forced the lock, to get into the bar—a case of champagne had been opened by some instrument like a chisel—the paper and straw were scattered all over the bar, and the cigars had been taken out of a box, and the box left on the counter—two pieces of cheese, that were on the table, and bread were gone; also between 16 and 17 quarterns of gin and rum, which were kept ready for use; also my frock coat and my son's top coat, which were hanging in the pantry, and other things; also all the copper money and stamps, and a pound of tobacco out of the drawer; we also missed a bottle of cloves—I have seen the prisoner once or twice in the house.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you there that night, but I dare say two or three days before—you live two doors from me, and I cannot say how often you came in and out of the house.

By the COURT. I have seen some of the things in the hands of the police since—cigars and tobacco are awkward things to swear to, but I am positive they are mine.

ALFRED DIKE (Detective Officer N). I took the prisoner on the 5th inst. on another charge, searched him, and found 21 cigars and 13 quarter-ounces, a pencil-case, and 4s. 7d.—I went to his house, where I found one champagne bottle and the neck of another, in the dusthole, also half a dozen gin bottles bearing the prosecutor's label—I charged the prisoner with stealing them; he said nothing—his father, mother, and sisters live at the same address.

Cross-examined. Some men were waiting outside when I apprehended you, close to Bloomsbury Square against the cab rank in Guilford Street.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am as innocent as you are, the things got into the cellar by the police taking them there and bringing them away again."

The prisoner in his defence said that one of the men waiting outside had taken him the cigars and tobacco, and had breakfast with him, and went into the

yard for a certain purpose, and threw the empty bottles into his dust hole without telling him, and when he went out he was apprehended on another charge, and the young man made off. GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction of felony at Westminster in January, 1878, in the name of Alfred Goldsborough.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

FOURTH COURT.—Monday, October 26th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-988
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

988. JOHN MURRELL, otherwise GEORGE ELLIOTT , otherwise JOHN VAUGHAN MURRELL (25), and ANNIE VAUGHAN (25) , Stealing a bag, a pair of slippers, and other goods, the property of Henry Hide.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted.

HENRY HIDE . I am a retired major-general—I live at Burntwood, near Caterham, and have an appointment at the India Office—on 20th July I left a bag at the Wallingham Station, with directions that it should be sent to Charing Cross—I applied there, and it was not forthcoming—this produced is a portion of the contents of the bag—this cloth is a portion of an Afghan choga or cloak; it was not cut up when I put it in the bag—I identify this shirt, these tow hair brushes, and two clothes brushes—they were in the bag when I deposited it—there were many other articles in the bag, of which I have given a list.

Cross-examined. The choga is common in Afghanistan, but not in England—it is possible, but improbable, for one to get into your possession—I know the shirts, because there are tucks in the sleeves through a mistake in the pattern.

WILLIAM RICHARD ROACH . I am cloak-room clerk at Charing Cross South-Eastern Railway Station—at 9.40 p.m. on 20th July I received a brown Gladstone bag from the parcels clerk directed to Lieutenant-Colonel Hide—I put it in the cloak-room, just inside the door—when I looked for it the next morning at 6 o' clock it had disappeared—you could see it on evening—I closed the door at 12 p.m.; it was there then.

JOSEPH JOHN SAUNDERS . I am watchman at Charing Cross Railway Station—at 12.15 on 21st July I opened the cloak-room door at the request of the gentleman to give him a little box out—I was in the cloak-room about four minutes—he gave me a ticket, and I took the ticket off the box, and put them together; they corresponded—before I closed the door three parties applied to me.

FREDERICK THOMAS . I am an assistant to Mr. Davis, a pawnbroker, of 268, Westminster Bridge Road—I produce this night shirt pledged to me on 7th August by Annie Vaughan, in the name of Annie Jordan.

WILLIAM THOMAS BERRY . I am assistant to Messrs. Harvey and Thompson, pawnbrokers, of 77, Albert Embankment—I produce four brushes pledged on 8th August for 4s. 6d. by John Edwards.

JOSEPH SAMMARS (Police Sergeant P). I went to 26, Upper Marsh, Westminster Bridge Road, on 23rd September from information received—I saw Annie Vaughan with another female—I showed her the ticket relating to the shirt—I said "Can you account for it?"—she said "Yes, the shirt was bought of a man in the street; I pawned it"—I said "What have you done with the dress that you had on at the police-court?"

—she said "I got wet through one day, and gave it to a friend of mine, and if you like to go with me I can get it"—on the way there she said "I cut it up and made the dress"—we arrived at 18, St. Aubya Street, Kenning ton Road, the place she mentioned—we went to the front parlour, where a female handed me the dress out up as it is now—I then charged her with being concerned with the male prisoner then in custody—he was living with a woman at 17, Royal Street, which I had previously searched, and found pieces identical with the dress she was wearing.

Cross-examined by Elliott. When I went to 17, Royal Street you told me it was your dress—you gave me the key.

Cross-examined by Vaughan. There was no body to the dress; only the skirt when I saw it.

ELIZA JORDAN . I am the landlady of 17, Royal Street, Lambeth—the prisoners occupied a room there as man and wife; they came on 15th May, and continued to live there to the second week in September, when the man was taken—I knew them as Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan.

Cross-examined by Elliott. I found you both respectable.

JAMES MIDDLETON (Detective South-Eastern Railway Police). On 21st July I received information that a Gladstone bag belonging to Major-General Hide had been stolen—on 17th September I was at the Rochester Row Police-station—I saw the female prisoner—I was shown some pieces of the Afghan dressing gown; they correspond with the stuff that was in the Gladstone bag—I took them to Major-General Hide at the India Office, and he identified them—the prisoners were charged on 23rd with stealing the bag and its contents—he made no reply, and she said she knew nothing at all about it.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Murrell says: "It was nothing to do with my wife; she knows nothing of it. I sent her myself to pledge the shirt I bought in the New Cut, Lambeth, or rather Great Charlotte Street. When I had the thing it was not in the shape of a dressing-gown at all." Vaughan says: "There was no bodice at all; there was only a piece like an apron. I did not steal anything."

They repeated the same statements in their defence.

NOT GUILTY . (See page 850.)

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-989
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

989. GEORGE BARKER (48) , Stealing 62 1/4 yards of cloth, of the Great Northern Railway Company.

MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. MEAD Defended.

JOHN TUCK . I am a checker in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—on 21st September I unloaded truck No. 12071 at King's Cross Yard—it came from Bradford—in the truck was a truss or bale marked BY No. 59, consigned to Henry and Co., of Boulogne—it was in good condition.

JOHN ROSE . I am a checker, of the Great Northern Railway Company—on 21st September I loaded the truss BY 59 into a truck, and sent it off by train to Poplar—it was safe and sound, and the canvas was uncut and in good condition—it was consigned to Henry and Co., of Boulogne.

JAMES LEESON (Great Northern Railway Constable). On 21st September I went on duty at the Poplar Depot about 8 p.m.—about 9 I examined truck No. 20214, which had come from King's Cross—it contained among other trusses truss BY 59, consigned to Boulogne—it was sound and uncut—I examined them two or three times during the night, but not

minutely—at 5 a.m. on the 22nd I found the cover of the truss BY 59 cut up the side of the canvas, about 10 inches or a foot, and the bale was unwrapped—I gave information to Detective Topple—after 8 I was the only person in charge until I discovered this—work was suspended that night about 8.45, and after that the bargemen have no right to take any goods from any of the trucks—barges were moored alongside the quay, about 8 or 10 yards from the truss, and to the extent of 40 or 50 yards—the gates to the streets are closed and locked after 8 p.m., and there is only access to the trucks from the barges.

Cross-examined. I will not swear the bale was not cut at 8 o'clock—the first time I noticed it cut was 5 a.m. on the 22nd.

HENRY TOPPLE (Detective, Great Northern Railway). On 22nd September I received information from Leeson about a bale of goods—I was instructed to go to Poplar to look into the matter—I saw the canvas produced round one roll of cloth; there are two rolls to a truss—I weighed the roll; it weighed 1 cwt.—the weight marked and entered was 1 c. 3 qr. 12lb.—I saw the canvas would hold another roll—after making inquiries, I communicated with Inspector Read, of the Thames Police, and we went up the river to Hermitage tier, and there saw the barge Autumn attached to the Vesta, lying in the river, and loaded with oil—we saw the prisoner; he lives in the barge—we searched it; it was about 1.30 we saw some tarpaulin in the hold—the inspector asked the prisoner "What is that down there?"—he said "Bundles of sacks"—I got down into the hold and turned the tarpaulins over; another officer opened one bundle of about 20 Great Eastern sacks—this sack was tied up with a piece of tarred string—I opened that and found the cloth—the sack was outside the cabin-door—I could not open the door, not without moving it—the prisoner said he had not left the barge since 11 the previous night—I went afterwards to Poplar and searched—I had 15 yards of similar cloth handed to me.

GEORGE READ (Thames Police Inspector). I went to Hermitage tier with Topple between 1 and 2 on the afternoon of the 22nd September—I said to the prisoner "Are you master of this barge?"—he said "Yes"—I said "What have you got in it?"—he said "Casks of oil"—I said "Where are you from?"—he said "From the Collier Dock"—I said "Have you got anything liable to duty, or that does not belong to you?"—he said "No"—I said "I am a police officer and officer of Customs, and I am going to search"—I went into the fore-cabin and searched—I found only some malt in a sack—I came back and said "Now are you sure you have got nothing in the barge that does not belong to you?"—he said "There is nothing here but what belongs to me and my master"—I then walked with the prisoner and Topple and another officer along the deck to the after cabin—the other officer walked over the casks of oil which were uncovered—I pointed to the tarpaulin, and said "What is there there?"—he said "Bundles of empty sacks"—Selby, the other constable, and Topple turned the tarpaulins back; they were partly folded up, and Selby opened the first bundle, and felt in and said "These are sacks"—I pointed to the other bundle and said "That is not empty sacks"—Topple opened the sack, and put his hand in and said "This is the cloth," and pulled it out—I said to the prisoner "Halloa! how do you account for this?"—he hesitated, and then said "I did not know it was there"—I took him to the station, and he was charged.

Cross-examined. I believe I said at the police-court that he hesitated and said "I know nothing about it"—I may have said that he turned white—the Great Northern sacks are very much used in Vokings's, the prisoner's employer's craft—the barge I searched was about two miles from the Collier Dock, where the cloth was on the truck—we call Hermitage Wharf up the river as the tide flows up towards London Bridge.

Re-examined. The tarpaulins belonged to Mr. Vokings; there were three—the sack containing the cloth was similar to the other sacks.

WILLIAM BAILEY . I am a carman on the Great Northern Railway—on 22nd September, about 2.30, I was at Poplar Station—I found the sack produced under the platform of an old shed, and gave it to the police—when it was opened there were about 15 yards of cloth in it, similar to that in the other sack.

JACOB HUDSON . I am foreman packer to Messrs. Sharp and Co., woollen merchants, of Bradford—I packed two bales of cloth in a truss marked B Y 59, in this canvas, and sent it away—the black and the green cloth produced is a portion of it—the value is 6l. 3s. 2 1/2 d.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 27th, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Day.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-990
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

Related Material

990. JOHN BARNES and HENRY BEATTIE were separately indicted and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the manslaughter of Mary Ann Jackson.

MESSRS. MEAD and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.

During MR. MEAD'S opening speech MR. JUSTICE DAY stated that he considered there was no case to go to the Jury.


MR. JUSTICE DAY stated, in justice to the prisoners, that there was not the slightest ground for the prosecution.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-991
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

Related Material

991. DAVID MARKS , Rape on Ellen Archer.


MR. WARBURTON having opened the case, Mr. Justice Day considered there was no case to go to the Jury.


FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 27th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-992
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

Related Material

992. JAMES DAY (17) , Robbery with violence, with other persons unknown, on Ellen Richards Christie, and stealing a purse and 10l., her property.

MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.

ELLEN RICHARDS CHRISTIE . I live at 4, Highbury Terrace, Islington—on Tuesday, 22nd September, about 1 p.m., I was walking along Highbury Crescent West; I saw four boys on the pavement—the prisoner was one—one talked loudly to the others—they had a number of lucifer matches on the pavement, and I stepped out into the road to avoid passing through the boys—one boy was separate from the rest, and when I

got into the road he seized me very suddenly by my left arm—I believe the prisoner is the boy, but I am not positive—he tried to wrench my purse away, which was in my left hand, and my thumb was under a strong elastic band—I had only just got out of a tram-car—he wrenched my hand backwards and forwards and threw me on the ground—I fell on my side, which was bruised very much indeed, and quite black; my knee was swollen and very painful, my elbow was braised, and there was a bruise on my left wrist—my purse was got away—I do not know what the others were doing, they were leaning their backs against the wall when I first saw them—when I got up they all ran away—I ran after them till I became quite exhausted—I then gave information to the police—I described the boys' ages and sizes—my dress and bonnet were torn, and my sunshade broken—in my purse I had 9l. 10s. in gold, and 10s. or 11s. in silver, and some papers—I have not recovered my purse or money—I went to the police-station between 11 and 12 o'clock the next night and identified the prisoner from several others—the tram went on towards Highgate—I got down at the opening in the road leading to Highbury—it is only for foot-passengers—the boys were about three minutes' walk from the road—I had not put my purse away.

LOUISA TOLSON . I live at 4, Highbury Terrace—on Tuesday, 22nd September, I was in Highbury Crescent about 12.20—I saw some boys sitting on the railings of No. 16—the prisoner was one—I went on and came back in about a quarter of an hour—the boys were opposite No. 4, playing at pitch-halfpenny in the road.

PATRICK CLEARY (Policeman N 484). About 8 p.m. on 22nd September I was on duty in Highbury New Park—I saw four boys coming towards me; they saw me and stopped—the prisoner was one—I said "What are you doing here?"—he said "I am coming from work"—I said "Where do you live?"—he said "No. 5, Upper Street, Islington; my mother works at 25, Avenue Park"—I took him to 25, Avenue Park—in going there he ran away—I ran after him, apprehended him in Petherton Road, Highbury, and took him to the Police-station, from there to Newington Station, and from there to Hornsey Road Station—on the way he said "You have got me, but you have not got the rest"—I had not said anything to him about the purse then—the prosecutrix and the cook identified him at Hornsey Road Station from five more—the prosecutrix did not point him out at once—she did not point out another boy first, nor say "I cannot identify him," or anything of that sort—the prisoner said nothing to the charge—a pawn-ticket was found on him referring to a pair of boots—I have not found any of the other boys.

The primmer stated in his defence that he had been looking for work from 9 a.m. till 3 p.m., when he turned in to sleep, and was taken in custody the next day.

GUILTY.— Judgment respited.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-993
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

993. GEORGE ELLIOTT (25) was again indicted for forging and uttering an order for the payment of 27l. 10s., with intent to defraud. (See page 846.)

MR. FULTON Prosecuted.

EDWARD HENRY TOWNSEND BLAKE . I am manager of the cash registry office at the Army and Navy Stores, Victoria Street—I received the cheque and order produced on Monday, 7th September. (This was for

27l. 10s., signed "Colonel William Arbuthnot.") I handed them to the managing Director.

HENRY CASMON . I am a clerk in the Lambeth Branch of the London and Westminster Bank, Westminster Bridge Road—Colonel William Arbuthnot has no account there—this cheque was issued to Mr. Colman in 1866; he has ceased to have an account there—his account closed about 1866 or 1867.

JOSEPH DAND . I am clerk to Messrs. Cocks and Co., Charing Cross—I have kept Colonel Arbuthnot's account at our bank since September, 1882—the signature on the cheque produced is not his—if he used the word "Colonel" it would be after his name.

ELIZA JANE BARRETT . I am the wife of Jaeob Barrett, of 23, Queen's Road, Bayswater, a fireman at the Natural History Museum—I take in parcels and letters for persons, and charge 1d. each—on 5th September the prisoner asked me to receive a letter for him, and said it would be a registered one, in the name of Colonel William Arbuthnot—he expected it on Monday, the 7th—on that night a parcel came, so directed—the prisoner called on Tuesday evening—he had three-pennyworth of chocolate creams, and asked if I had a letter for Colonel Arbuthnot—I said "Yes," and gave him this paper to sign (produced); the top part is my writing: "Received registered parcel, directed to Colonel Arbuthnot, September 7th, 1885"—the words, "Received by John Jarvis," are the prisoner's writing, he wrote it in my presence—I kept the paper and handed him the letter—he paid me 1d. for it—I had had a visit from the police before giving the parcel to the prisoner—shortly afterwards the prisoner was brought back in custody—I have no doubt he is the man—he came by himself both times: he was a stranger to me.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot say whether you said "Most likely it would be registered"—I am sure you said "Colonel William Arbuthnot," and not merely "Arbuthnot."

JOHN ALLCHURCH . I am storekeeper at the Army and Navy Stores—on Monday, September 7th, this cheque was handed to me with instructions to make inquiries about it—I went to the manager of the Lambeth Branch of the London and Westminster Bank, and had a conversation with him—I then went to 23, Queen's Road, Bayswater, the address given upon the order; I saw Mrs. Barrett; it is a confectioner's shop—from the result of my inquiries I made up a dummy parcel, directed to Colonel Arbuthnot, 23, Queen's Road, Bayswater, and sent it by post—I kept watch with Sammars on those premises on 7th and 8th September—about 7.30 on Tuesday, the 8th, I saw the prisoner and another man about ten yards from Mrs. Barrett's shop—the short man went on in front and went into No. 23, stayed in the shop two or three minutes, then came out and joined the prisoner, who had walked past about ten yards—the short man spoke to the prisoner, and in about half a minute the prisoner went into the shop at 23; he was in there two or three minutes—he came out and joined the short man, and both walked off together—the prisoner had something in his hand—I was about 16 yards from him—it was getting dusk, but there were lamps all about—the two men walked at a rapid pace towards the Bayswater Road—I came out from a shop opposite Mrs. Barrett's, where I had been looking through a gauze blind since 9 a.m.—I got nearly opposite the prisoner; he seemed to be hurrying to get into the park—I said "I want you a minute"—he said

"What do you want with me?"—I said "You stand here a minute. I want to see you"—he said "What do you want me for? I have not got anything," and rubbed his hand down his coat—the short man had run away; I had seen the prisoner pass something to him—Sammars came up—I said in the prisoner's presence "This is the man"—he said "I have not done anything"—Sammars took him back to Mrs. Barrett's; I gave him into his custody—Sammars said to Mrs. Barratt "Has this man been in your shop just now?"—she said "Yes," that he had called for a registered parcel addressed to Colonel William Arbuthnot, and he had signed this receipt—he was charged with forgery.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I told you I should knock you down if you attempted to run away.

JOSEPH SAMMARS (Police Sergeant B). I was on duty in the Queen's Road, Bayswater, watching Mrs. Barrett's place—I saw Allchurch stop the prisoner—he gave him into my custody as a Metropolitan Police officer—I made a note of what was said—I said "I shall take you in custody for uttering a forged cheque, and endeavouring to obtain a gold watch and chain from the Army and Navy Stores"—he said "I know nothing about it"—I said "You have just received a parcel from the shop"—he said "No, I have not; I have not got it about me"—Allchurch said "You have handed it to another man"—I took him back to Mrs. Barrett's shop, who identified him.

GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I am an expert in handwriting, of 8, Red Lion Street, Holborn—since the death of M. Chabot I have been engaged by the Treasury in all cases of handwriting—the body of this cheque and the body of the order are identically the same writing undisguised—the "23, Queen's Road," at the bottom of the order is identical with "Received by John Jarvis"—the body of the order is the same writing, to the best of my belief—there are three handwritings; the question is which is disguised. [SERGEANT SAMMARS here stated that a letter now produced, and which was produced at the police-court, was admitted by the prisoner to be his writing.] This letter, though written by the prisoner, is evidently in a disguised hand, but I find similarities between it and the cheque and the order, and the "Received by John Jarvis"—the "Received by" is more the natural hand than the letter—it is all written by the game person.

Cross-examind by the Prisoner. I have sworn to the best of my opinion—a good penman always disguises his writing when he does anything wrong—I can swear positively the cheque and the order are the same writing as the letter.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing whatever concerning either charge."

Witnesses for the Defence.

ANNIE VAUGHAN . I am a dressmaker, of 28, Upper Marsh, Lambeth—I am single—you did not make out this cheque or the order, I saw Charles Wood do it—he brought a blank cheque in a novel, took it away, brought it back again, and filled it in as it is now—the order was with the cheque—I do not remember the date—Wood took the cheque and the order away again, and said he was going to post it—this was at 17, Royal Street, Lambeth—I heard John Cantle direct Wood how to word the order—Cantle said something about having been prosecuted by the Stores, and not wanting to be seen in it, because he was known—he knew all about

the Stores—he asked you to fetch a letter from Bayswater—he said "That is all you have to do with it, only to fetch a letter"—Cantle and Wood went out of the house with you—you remained in the house from the time the cheque was taken out and brought back and filled in.

Cross-examined. Cantle said in the prisoner's presence that he had robbed the Stores; that he had been in trouble, and would not be seen—I did not know what the cheque was for; I do not understand cheques—I left them talking in the room—when I came back, Wood and Cantle had gone away, and the prisoner was alone—I know they took the blank cheque away, because I was in the room when they came back again—they went in the morning and came back in the afternoon—the prisoner had not been out—I had only been downstairs—all I heard was Cantle said to Wood "That will do"—they were both looking at the cheque—I was there till I saw them go out together—the prisoner told me on the Tuesday that he was going to Mrs. Barrett's to get a registered parcel—he went out with a shorter man; Charley Wood—I have not heard him say who Charley Wood is—I did not know they were going to commit a fraud—I know the prisoner's writing—the top of this receipt, "Received registered parcel," is his writing—I could no; swear to "Received by John Jarvis."

Re-examined. When Wood had shown the cheque to you he folded it up, put it in an envelope, and put it in his pocket—I did not see you take it—it was filled in with the order.

ELIZA JORDAN . My husband is a warehouseman at Pratt's, St. Martin's Lane—we live at 28, Upper Marsh, Lambeth—I know some one you used to call Charley—he said you had been made a mug of; that you were brought into it—he said he should send a letter to the Judge to prove it was not your writing on the cheque.

Cross-examined. I have seen Oharley about four times.

The prisoner handed in a written description of Wood and Cantle, and said that he fetched the letter from Bayswater, but had nothing more to do with it, and had been made a dupe of, being promised a few shillings for hit trouble.

GUILTY of uttering.Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-994
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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994. JOSEPH HERMANN (32) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Edward Bartier, and stealing five forks, thirteen spoons, a bottle of gin, and a bottle, his property.

MR. COOPER WILLIS Prosecuted, and the evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.

WILLIAM EDWARD BARTIER . I am a photographer, of 82, East India Dock Road, Poplar—on Saturday night, 3rd October, I went to bed about 12 o'clock, and left all safe, and turned off the gas—on coming down on Sunday morning I found the prisoner asleep on the couch in the breakfast room, with the remains of a bottle of gin by his side on the floor—I sent for the police and had him removed—I had locked up the house except the conservatory door—the library was closed, but not locked or bolted—my daughter came down and found the prisoner, first—these forks and spoons belong to me; they were found on the prisoner at the station—I turned off the gas.

ELLEN HARRIET BARTIER . I am the prosecutor's daughter—I came down on Sunday morning at 7.15, and saw the prisoner asleep on a couch in the breakfast-room—the gas was lighted in the kitchen—I went upstairs

and woke my father—I found the library door and the conservatory door open.

RICHARD M✗ES (Policeman K 266). On Sunday, 4th October, the prosecutor called me about 7.30—I saw the prisoner asleep on a couch in the breakfast-room, and woke him up—I asked him how he came there—there was a ladder outside, and I asked if he got up the ladder, and he said "Yes"—I took him to the station—he was drunk; he recovered in about five minutes—I found these live forks and 13 spoons in his coat side pocket—he said if it had not been for the gin being so strong he should not have been there—the house is being repaired, and the ladder was leaning against a house in Oriental Street—there is a wall 12 feet high along the side of the house.

WILLIAM BROWN (Policeman K 2). I examined these premises on the morning of the 4th—an entry had been effected by scaling a wall in Oriental Street, which divides Mr. Bartier's garden from Oriental Street, through the conservatory door, which was left unfastened, to the library door, which was also unlocked.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I got too much drink. I do not know what I do here."

The prisoner through the interpreter said that he had lost his ship, and had been drinking heavily with an acquaintance, who took him into this house and left him, after robbing him, and that he had done nothing wrong before.

GUILTY of the larceny.One Month's Imprisonment.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-995
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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995. EDWARD CHUTER (23), JOHN CHUTER (19), and OLIVER HILL (24) , Stealing a purse, a life policy, and 5s. 5d., the property of Clara Amelia Rider, from her person.

MR. LOUIS Prosecuted.

CLARA AMELIA RIDER . I am a servant residing at the Home in Ealing—on 21st September, about 10 p.m., I was passing through Mattock Lane; I heard footsteps, and my black leather bag was snatched from me—it contained a purse, a life policy, two half-crowns, and five pence—I ran after four men, one of whom was carrying the bag—Hill is like one of them—I went home, and then to the police-station, and gave information—I went home, and again to the police-station, when I said Hill looked like one of the men—the next morning, about 9 o'clock, I identified this purse and life policy—they were in my bag when it was taken—I identified Hill from a lot of men.

Cross-examined by Hill. Your general stamp and dress is like one of the men.

THOMAS BUCKINGHAM . I am a labourer, of Dame Cottage, Ealing—on 21st September I was going home in front of the prisoners down Mattock Lane—I saw a lot of men running; I heard some halloaing from behind, like a female voice—I ran after them—I saw something black in Chuter's hands—I walked about with the prisoners a little while after that—I did not see them open the bag—I saw a paper that had not reading on—I cannot swear to this policy—I saw something in Edward Chuter's hands, I could not say it was a purse—that was in the new road—he gave me a shilling that he owed me—I did not see anything in Edward Chuter's hands when I first walked with them—I saw a woman going along the lane from Ealing; I cannot say if it was the prosecutrix—I did not see where Chuter got the bag from—I have known the

prisoners about a fortnight, and I had seen them before that—I was charged with complicity in this offence—I said at the police-court, "Last night, about 10 o'clock, I was going with the prisoners along Mattock Lane, and saw a woman going along the lane from Ealing," and "The prisoners started running; when they got to the big tree I saw a bag in Edward Chuter's hands"—that is not true—Sergeant Weston told me to say that—I said that Chuter gave me 1s.—I do not know whether I said, "I saw the prisoners with the purse produce I"—I said, "I saw the purse produced a little after they opened the bag;" that is not true.

Cross-examined by Edward Chuter. I saw you with something black in your hand; I could nut see what it was because it was dark—I am not sure that I saw a purse and a policy—Sergeant Weston told me to say what I did at the police-court, and I say the truth now—Hill gave me the shilling.

By the Jury. He had owed me a shilling for four months—I did not know the other two.

Cross-examined by Hill. You borrowed the shilling—I had been away, and that was the first opportunity you had of paying me.

The COURT ordered Buckingham to be taken into custody.

CHARLES WALDEN (Policeman X 124). On 21st September I was on duty and found this purse about 11.15 p.m. on the footway, between Williams Road and the Uxbridge Road, Ealing Dean, and this life policy doubled up inside it—I showed Weston the spot in the morning—the prisoners were arrested opposite Mr. Ireland's house, and the purse was found about three yards from there.

Cross-examined by E. Chuter. I did not say at Brentford that I found the purse at 4.30 a.m.

JOHN WESTON (Detective X). On the evening of 21st September I was on duty near Mattock Lane—I saw the prisoners and Buckingham going from Ealing towards Hanwell along Mattock Lane, walking together slowly—about 10.30 I received information of the robbery—I went and met the prisoners in Denmark Road—Buckingham left them and they went towards Hanwell—I got assistance and took the prisoners between Brownlow Road and Williams Road, just by the side of Mr. Allen's house, or five or six yards from St. Aune's Villa—that is near the spot where the purse and policy were picked up, and about a mile from Mattock Road—it was about 11 p.m.—they were placed with other men at the station, and the prosecutrix said she thought Hill was one of the men who had robbed her—the other two were liberated—Hill was charged with another offence—I received information that this purse and policy had been found, and I took Buckingham at Dame Cottage—from what he told me I went with Inspector Newman to The Slips, Hanwell, and took Edward Chuter in custody—I told him it was for being concerned in stealing a bag containing a purse of money and a policy—he said "I know nothing about it"—I searched Hill at the station and found two shillings and fourpence farthing in bronze, two keys, and a chain—upon Edward Chuter I found a knife and this coin (Hanoverian)—the first time I searched him I found ninepence in bronze, and on John Chuter fivepence—I heard Buckingham give his evidence—I did not instruct him what to say at the police-court—he made a statement to another sergeant at the station.

Cross-examined by Edward Chuter. You had back all I took from you.

Cross-examined by Hill. I saw you about 9.45—the prosecutrix said she lost her bag about 10, and gave mo information about 10.30—I have not been following Buckingham about the village—I followed him with reference to what happened between him and Fitch, one of your friends—he did not ask me to take him in custody for something else—he was bound over.

JOHN NEWMAN (Policeman H). On 22nd September, about 8 a.m., I arrested John Chuter—I charged him with stealing a bag and its contents.

Cross-examined by John Chuter. You said you knew nothing about it—the purse produced and a penny were found in your trousers pocket after the charge was taken.

Edward Chuter in his defence said that they heard a woman cry, and ran, and then had a drink together, talked about the shilling that was owing, and were taken in custody.

GUILTY . EDWARD CHUTER then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction at this Court in May, 1882.— Five Years' Penal Servitude . And HILL to a conviction at Brentford in January last.Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

JOHN CHUTER.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

The Jury considered that Buckingham ought to have been in the dock.

The COURT commended the Police for their vigilance, and liberated Buckingham.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-996
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Miscellaneous > sureties

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996. THOMAS HALEY (22) and FRANK RUFFELL , Robbery with violence with another person unknown on James Carey, and stealing a watch, a chain, and seal, his property.

MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.

JAMES CAREY . I live at Wickcliffe House, High Grove, Tottenham—on 24th September, between 3 and 4 p.m., I was in Tapp Street, near Bethnal Green Railway Station—I was going under the arch, and a lad I know said "Good afternoon"—as I turned and replied "Good afternoon" three men rushed across the road—one seized my chain, another caught me by my shoulder, threw me down, cut my hands and knees, and ran away—I got up, and ran after one of them; all three got away—I went to the station and gave information—the prisoners are two of the men, I am quite sure—Haley is the man who threw me down over his leg—Ruffell ran at me, but did not interfere with me—I thought he took my chain, but I may be mistaken—I identified Haley at Bethnal Green Station on second consideration—I saw Ruffell in the passages of this Court last Tuesday—I pointed him out to a policeman, and said he was the man that took my chain—he was one of three.

Cross-examined by Haley. I picked out a taller man—I believe he was a constable, but I did not notice.

ARTHUR HUMPHREY . On 24th September I said "Good afternoon" to Carey—I saw Haley, Ruffell, and another man under the arch—I saw Haley catch hold of Carey and throw him down; that was after the other man stole the chain—Ruffell ran away with Haley—I identified Haley at Bethnal Green Station—I saw Ruffell last week, and said he was one of the men.

Cross-examined by Haley. I said "That is him with the swollen face"—I could tell you by your features—you had not a swollen face when this happened.

Cross-examined by Ruffell. I have seen you selling grapes—I am sure I saw you under the arch.

Re-examined. I said "The man with the swollen face" to distinguish Ruffell—I am 14 years old.

MARY ANN NEWSON . I am single—on Thursday, 24th September, I was standing in Tapp Street, under the railway arch, between 4 and 5 p.m.—I saw three men run across the road after the prosecutor, one on each side—the prisoners are two of them—Haley was behind the prosecutor, and Ruffell on the right side towards the kerb—Haley threw the prosecutor down and got hold of him by the back of his collar—one man ran up Cutler Street—I saw the prisoners run up Three Colt Lane—I identified Ruffell at Bethnal Green Station, and Haley at Worship Street.

Cross-examined by Ruffell. Carey did not tell me you stole his chain—I did not tell your mother—she offered me some drink—I said "No," and then "Yes"—she could get nothing out of me—I said that I could recognise you by your coat, and I saw you a long while—I know your face.

BENJAMIN FORDHAM (Detective Sergeant K). On 7th October, about 9 p.m., I took Haley and another man—I told Haley he would be charged with stealing a watch-chain from a man named Carey in the street at Bethnal Green—he said "You have made a mistake; I do not know anything about it"—I took him to the station, and Humphreys identified him from several others as the one who threw Carey down, and Carey identified him next morning from 7 or 8 others; he also picked out another man, who he said he thought was one of the three—we had picked the men out of the street.

Cross-examined by Haley. The boy Humphrey said "That is the one with the swelled eye," and so I fetched you back into the inspector's room that you might hear what the boy said—Humphrey did not pick out a plain clothes policeman.

HENRY IRWIN (Policeman K 324). Last Tuesday, about 12.15, at the Old Bailey, the prosecutor, pointing to Ruffell, said "I will give that man in custody for robbing me"—I said to Ruffell "You hear what is said; I shall take you in custody for being concerned with Haley in robbing this gentleman"—he said "It was not Haley," or "It was not me, but I know who it was"—I then took him to Bethnal Green, where he was charged.

Cross-examined by Ruffell. I conversed with you in the waiting-room—you spoke about two young women—I never said "Would you like to get in and hear the trial?"—the young women know their way here.

Ruffell's Statement before the Magistrate. "I deny the charge; I have been getting an honest livelihood."

Witnesses for Haley.

ROSE DOUGLAS . I am a tailoress, of 4, Dorset Street, Spitalfields—on 24th September Haley came to where I was, and remained with me a little while—he asked me to fresh braid his coat, which I did—he was there from 12 to 1, and remained till 7—he had food with me while I did his coat—at 7 o'clock we went out, and he was with me till 12.30—I have kept company with him for nine months.

Cross-examined. He is not living with me—I am not a gay woman—Haley takes me out; he wanted to take me to the Pavilion in the White-chapel

Road—we had something to eat between 4.30 and 5—he was the whole time with me.

SELINA JONES . I am married, and live at 4, Dorset Street, Spitalfields—my husband works at the docks—Rose Douglas lives in the next room on the same floor—on 24th September Haley came to see her between 12 and 1, and remained till 7 p.m.—I was in and out of the room the whole time—Haley asked me to go with Douglas to buy some braid for his coat, and we loft him in the room for a quarter of an hour—we are friends, and we have tea together—I do not know that she is unformate.

Cross-examined. She is a tailoress—we went to buy the braid about 3 p.m.—I have known Haley and Douglas about two months—they went out about 7 o'clock—Haley visits her—we had tea together between 2 and 3—we had nothing more till they both left, and I saw no more of them—I had to get my husband's tea; he comes home between 5 and 6—I fix the day because my husband comes home on the Thursday—we had a few words on the Monday—my husband would not allow me to come when subpoenaed on the Tuesday, and I said that I would, and he has left me through it.

Witnesses for Ruffell.

ISAAC BENSUSAN . I am a dealer and salesman, of 168, Underwood Street, Mile End New Town—on 24th September Ruffell was out selling grapes for me the whole day till 11 p.m.

By the COURT. I did not go with him—I give him a good character—I have given him 7l. and 8l. at a time to get my goods, and he has brought them all right.

AMELIA RUFFELL . I am a Dutch Jewess and Ruffell's mother—I am a widow—I live at 10, Wine Court, Whitechapel—on 24th September Ruffell had been selling grapes at the corner of Baker's Row—I brought him his dinner at 4 o'clock.

Cross-examined. He goes to get them ready about 10 or 11 o'clock, and then I stand with him all day—his stall is near the Pavilion Theatre—I was with him from 1 p.m.—I went to prepare his dinner at 3 o'clock—I had no dinner; I had a bit of bread in my hand.

The prisoners in their defence stated that they knew nothing about it and were not there.

GUILTY . HALEY then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in October, 1882, at Chelmsford, in the name of Thomas Haynes .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. RUFFELL— To enter into recognisances to come up for judgment when called upon.

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 28th, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Day.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-997
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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997. GERSON CZERNECHOWSKI (37) and HYMAN SILVERMAN (60) , Unlawfully having in their possession 35 forged Rouble notes of the Bank of Russia, with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and FRITH appeared for Czernechowski, and MR. MOYSES for Silverman; and the evidence was interpreted to the prisoners.

PHILIP COHEN . I am a tailor, of 6, Sion Lane, Sion Square—I have

known Silverman about 13 years—on Sunday, 13th August, I went with a man named Goldberg for a walk in Whitechapel—we met Silverman, and Goldberg had a conversation with him—I asked what business was going on—he said, "Business is a little quiet; if you follow my advice you can make a living without work"—I said, "What way?"—he said, "If you bring me customers to buy Russian notes you can have a good commission on them"—I said, "I can be a customer myself"—he said, "How much can you lay out?"—I said "20l. "—he did not mention any amount—he then took me into a house in Brushfield Street, but Goldberg did not go in—we met Czernechowski, who said, "How much do you want to buy, and when will you be ready?"—I told him to see me again next Sunday—when I left him I gave information to the police; Goldberg went with me—I know where Silverman lived; he was to take me the next Sunday—on Sunday, 30th August, I went with Goldberg to Silverman's place in Leman Street—he is a goldsmith—we then went to Czernechowski's place in Bishopsgate Street, who showed me three notes for 25 roubles each—I said, "I shall be ready next Sunday with the money"—I was to give him 20l. for 36 of the notes—they were similar to this (produced)—we then left, and before the next Sunday I communicated with the police again—on Sunday, 6th September, I went to Silverman's place with Goldberg, who stood by the door, and then I went to Czernechowski's, while Goldberg went to the police—Czernechowski was waiting for us at his door—it was a quarter to 1, and we took a walk till 1 o'clock, when the public-house opened—we then went into the Lucky Bob public-house, and had a glass each—that is only one door from Czernechowski's—Goldberg was not with us—Czernechowski then took out a bundle of notes from his pocket and said, "Here are the notes, you can give me your money"—I said, "I can't give you the money until I count the notes"—he said, "Never mind, you can count them at home"—I said, "I will tell you the truth, I have not got the money with me; you can give the notes to Silverman, and he will go home with me, and I will give him the 20l. "—he said, "No, I can't do that"—we went out, and he went into his own house for a second, and came out again—when he came back I saw Sergeant Foster, and took out my pocket-handkerchief to give the signal, and he came across—I did not go into Czernechowski'a after we came out of the public-house—we then went to the police-station.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I don't know Harris Isaacs—I never said to any one "Let us have our revenge on Czernechowski, and we can have some money as well."(Isaacs here came into Court.) I have known that man as Harris for five years—I never heard him called Isaacs—I never said to him or to anybody when showing him a parcel "This is the poison I have got for that black Russian"—I have only seen him once in my life, and that was five years ago; he was then called Harris, not Isaacs—no one said to me "What do you mean by poison?" nor did I say "You will see what that means, they are forged Russian rouble notes; I only want a chance of getting them into Czernechowski's possession"—nobody said to me "I do not want to kill a person for nothing at all, although I have lost my situation"—Isaacs did not say that, and I did not lose my situation—I did not say "I intend to place these notes in Czernechowski's possession; his door is always open, and will be easy of access to anybody; I will plant the notes, and you give

information to the police, and we will share the reward"—Isaacs did not say to me "I will not lend myself to such a villany," nor did I say "As a favour do not mention this matter to anybody"—I do not know a man named Lowinworth—I never spoke to him in my life.(Philip Lowinworth here came into Court.) I do not know that man; I never bad a conversation with him—Czernechowski and I never worked together, nor were we ever employed by the same man—I have not complained that I lost my employment through him—I never saw him till August 23rd—I did not go to Lowinworth and say "My name is Philip Cohen"—I never spoke to him—I do not know Alfred Trafford.(Trafford have came into Court.) I do not know that man—I did not see him in the public-house on the day Czernechowski was arrested—I do not know Mr. Benjamin. (Benjamin here came into Court.) I did not see that man between 11 and 12 o'clock on Sunday, September 6th—I did not on that day enter Czernechowski's passage between 11 and 12 o'clock in his presence, or come out and walk hurriedly away—I do not know Mr. Born or Londynski—I did not enter Czernechowski's passage at any time on the 6th—I did not swear before the Magistrate. "I did enter the passage with Czernechowski on September 6th"—I was not in the passage—I signed my deposition after it was read over—I never was in the passage—I do not know a man named Lewin. (Lewin here came into Court.) I have never seen that man before—I did not see him at the Lucky Bob on that Sunday—I do not know Silversteine. (A man was here brought into Court.) I have known that man 12 or 13 years; he is the daughter-in-law of Silverman—I said that I did not know him, because he was not here, and there are a good many Silversteines—I do not know whether his name is Adolph—I know his wife—I never had the curiosity to know his name before—I had nothing to do with him—I did not see these notes found—I did not know that there was a reward—I did not go to the Russian Consulate or Embassy—I have given this information from pure love of justice—I said before the Magistrate "I do not know whether I hope to receive a reward or not"—I have had nothing to do with the police—I did not go to Lowinworth and ask him, as he knew the Scotland Yard authorities, to assist me in getting a reward.

Cross-examined by MR. MOYSES. When Czernechowski went in✗to the passage, I was outside with Silverman; it was after he had been in and come out again that I gave the signal—I am quite sure of that—I have known Silverman 12 or 13 years—I don't know Abraham Lipman or Miss Lipman his daughter.

Re-examined. I did not go into the passage at any time on 6th September.

DANIEL GOLDBERG . I am a tailor and merchant, of 23, Backchurch Lane, Commercial Road—I know the prisoners—on 23rd August I was with Cohen in Whitechapel, Silverman came up and asked Cohen how business was; he said business was very slow—Silverman said "If you like to do some different business, and get some customers to buy some Russian notes, you can, and it will be all right"—Cohen said "I would not mind to buy some myself"—Silverman said "How much can you buy?"—he said "20l. "—Silverman took me to Brushfield Street, where we met Czernechowski—we went to Bishopsgate, and arranged with him to buy some false notes—I did not go into his house—I have never been in—he did not go in on that Sunday, but the following Sunday he did, and we

passed the house—when Cohen came out he said to me in Silverman's presence "I have seen three samples of 25-rouble Russian notes"—I went the same night to Lime Street Station, and told the police—on September 6th I was with Cohen, and saw the two prisoners in Bishopsgate Street before Czernechowski's house, and on seeing them I went back towards the police-station, and met Sergeant Foster and Constable Enright in Whitechapel, and when we got back we saw the two prisoners coming out of a public-house—they got past Czernechowski's house, about four yards off—Czernechowski saw me, and I saw a signal given, and Czernechowski jumped into his house, and he was out again in a second—Silverman ran away, and Enright caught him—Foster took Czernechoweki.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I met him on three Sundays—it was on the second Sunday that Cohen went into Czernechowski's house—I have never been in only when he was caught—I then went in with the constable, and while he was searching the rooms I was standing at the room dour upstairs, speaking to him all the time; the door was open—there are two rooms upstairs, he only searched one of them; he west into the other room, but did not search it—I did not see a perambulator—I had not two or three minutes to go down and slip the notes into the perambulator, while he went into the other room—I went to Mr. Smith's, a butcher's, to see my sister, who is in service there; he speaks the same language as me, Hebrew—his son is an Englishman, but he is a foreigner—I never planted any notes there—I asked my sister how she was getting on, but never went into the house or had a conversation with Mr. Smith or his wife—Mr. Smith did not say to me "You scoundrel, if you dare to come here to me on such business I will kick you and your sister out of the house"—Czernechowski has two rooms upstairs: I don't know whether he has got any more—I know Mr. Holme by sight—I should be very sorry to speak to him in the street—I see him every day, because he always passes my door—I never said to him "Do you know anybody who would like to buy some forged Russian notes? we can make lots of money"—I never spoke to him—he did not say "I will knock you down for making such a proposition," nor did he tell me that I was a convicted felon—that would be untrue—I have been convicted, but he never said it to me—I do not expect any reward; I have never inquired whether there was one—my conviction was more than five years ago—I was charged with stealing, and was in prison three months; it was for taking a woman's part, but the Magistrate said it was for stealing—I know where the perambulator was subsequently found; I had to pass it to get upstairs, whether I saw it or not—there is a door in the passage—I saw Cohen after he gave his evidence at the police-court, and worked with him—we had no conversation about this case; I did not mention it—Cohen did not tell me to give information to the Russian Government, but Silverman came to us, and I took pity on the poor children and the wife when the husband had been sent away for five years—I never gave information to Abberline about Russian forge✗es before—I don't know that my house has been watched by the police as that of a suspected person—I do not know that Mr. Londynski, a witness for the prosecution, gave information against me that forged notes would be found on me—I did not hear Mr. Abberline say that.

Cross-examined by MR. MOYSES. Silverman ran away a yard or two

before he was stopped; he had really started to run—my wages are 7s. a day—I do not know that Cohen has any money saved up.

Re-examined. With the exception of the three mouths', years ago, I have never been convicted.

ABRAHAM LONDYNSKI (Interpreted). I live at 6, Greenfield Street, Commercial Road, and lived at Glasgow about 16 years ago—I knew a man named Cracough 20 years before—I went to Glasgow and I saw him 9 or 10 months after I came to London; that is 12 or 13 months ago—when I was at his house Czernechowski came there—Cracough said "I introduce Czernechowski as a man who sells false roubles"—I did not speak to him—Czernechowski said "They are now making new 25-roubles"—in March last I met him in the street, and he said they were being made first class—he wanted to show me a proof—I said "I do not wish to see it," and in March he told that they were done—in June I reported it to the Ambassador, who sent me to Mr. Abberline.

Cross-examined. I got the information in March, and it was not till June that I went to give information to the Ambassador—I lived in Glasgow by dealing in pictures and jewellery, and any small articles, as a hawker—when I went to Glasgow I did not know one word of English, and we did a better business then, when I understood nothing, than I did when I knew something—I lived 12 years in one house—I have not got the address in my mind; I have got it in my pocket—it was Green Street; I lived there 14 years at No. 14—a railway has taken away the whole of the street—I went to Mrs. Kali's house in High Street almost every week, picture-dealing, for six months—I cannot remember the number—she had a lodging-house—when I came to London I did not deal with her any more—I had no warehouse or shop here—I would buy three cases of glass and a thousand feet of mouldings—I know both Cracough's sons—neither of them told me to leave their father's house, as I was a felon, a thief, a Russian spy, and a traitor to Poland—he did not refuse to admit me to his father's house—once I went there and he said his father was ill—I am living with my son-in-law—I do not know a man named Kilgrough or Kruiser. (Kruiser was here called in.) I know him, because he wanted to kill me—I should not have known him unless I saw him—I have never said to Kruiser "How is business? If you want to make a fortune you stand a chance of making one through me"—I do not know a man named Gershenshir—I said at the police-court that I came to London with a view of going to Jerusalem—I intended to go to Jerusalem, but when I found they were making false notes I went to the Rabbi, and he told me in the Talmud it is stated that any one who makes false notes ought to go into custody—I may have seen Silverstein, but I do not know him—I do not know the day I went to the Russian Embassy—I know Goldberg—I did not know of his forging Russian notes—I went twice to the Russian Embassy—a new Ambassador had come, the old one went before—at the time the old Ambassador was going away he said that a new one would come—I was well acquainted with the Ambassador; I have his card in my pocket—I went there to give information, because I heard false notes were made—I did not do so because of any reward, but because hundreds of thousands of people would be unfortunate—I believe in God; God will pay me—I simply did so that people in Russia and Poland should not get into prison—my father dealt

with Goodman, and I dealt with him in some place in Poland—he came to Berlin and he got imprisonment, and I heard he died in prison—Goodman was a Pole—I was away from Poland 20 years; I have not seen him since—I dealt with him 30 or 40 years ago in Poland—I did not give information to the Russian Government about him.

GEORGE FOSTER (Detective Sergeant H). On August 23rd, between 9 and 10 p.m., I saw Cohen at the station; he made a statement to me—I saw Goldberg again on 6th September, and he made a statement—I then went to Bishopsgate Street Police-station, and about 1 o'clock on that day I saw Goldberg again in High Street, Whitechapel, and went with him to Bishopsgate Street Within—I had seen Enraght and Bacon—we kept observation on Czerneohowski in Bishopsgate Street, and saw the two prisoners and Cohen come out of the side entrance of the Lucky Bob public-house; Czernechowski looked across the road towards the gateway and made a sign, and went directly to his own door; he went into the doorway, and I walked partly across the road—he was coming out at the side entrance of the gateway when I received the signal from Cohen and went across the road and took hold of him as he was turning to go back—he struggled, but Bacon came up, and I handed him over to him—Silverman ran away as soon as I laid hold of Czernechowski—I remained with Czernechowski till Enright and another constable came up; I then went to the station and told the prisoners that they were in custody for having in their possession forged rouble notes—I have known Czernechowski some years in the name of Havdon—I searched him, and found some papers, among which was this letter in Russian, purporting to come from Geneva, addressed to Mr. Abrahams; there is a post-office order in it—I searched Silverman and found a memorandum book and some papers—I went back to Czeraechowski's house, and found Enright and Goldberg, the witness, in the room—I saw a perambulator in the passage, about three yards from the door, the hood was partly open; it was a double hood, and closed with springs—I searched the cushions, and found under them a newspaper parcel containing 35 forged 25-rouble notes—Inspector Egan asked Czernechowski at the station whose perambulator it was, he said that it was his—the charge was read to them; they both said, "I will say nothing."

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. This is a correct plan (produced), but the perambulator is not in the right place; it was not in the way of a person going upstairs. I went up without noticing it, but I saw it as I came down—it would be quite possible for a person pasting the house to put a parcel in the perambulator.

By the COURT. The house was not left alone, I remained at the door till Enright came with a uniformed constable, and after I took the prisoners to the station I found Enright still there—the place was under the charge of the police the whole time.

PATRICK ENRIGHT (Constable, Criminal Investigation Department). In August I went to 29, Backchurch Lane, away made arrangements with Cohen to meet him again on the 22nd, and in consequence of arrangements I met him on September 6th, in Whitechapel; I followed him to Bishopsgate Street—I kept observation on Czernecbowski's house, and saw the two prisoners, with Cohen, leave the side entrance of the Lucky Bob—Czernechowski looked straight at me and rushed into his house—Foster seized him and they struggled; Silverman ran away—

I ran and caught him; he said "What have I done? what do you want me for?"—I said "You will be told that at the station," and took him there, and came back and remained at the house until the notes were found in the perambulator.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Goldberg came into Czernechowski's house just behind me—my back was at some time turned to him—I had to pass the perambulator going into the house.

Cross-examined by MR. MOYSES. I was standing with Foster close to the house—I did not know the special charge against Silverman at the time.

SAMUEL BACON (City Detective). On 6th September, about 1.15 p.m., I kept observation on 151, Bishopsgate Street, and saw the two prisoners and Cohen come out at the side entrance ot the Lucky Bob public-house, come towards Bishopsgate Street, and Czernechowski turned round sharply and went to his own door—after being there half a minute he came out and went towards Bishopsgate Street—Sergeant Foster caught hold of him and a struggle commenced—I took him to the station, leaving Foster to take charge of the door where he lived.

Cross-examined by MR. MOYSES. I know that the men were in the public-house, though I had not watched them in—I was waiting for a signal.

FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Police Inspector H). On 6th June Londynski gave me information—I know a man named Goldberg, not the witness but another man, Czernechowski's brother-in-law—I have seen them together—I received from Londynski two notes; one of them, a 25-rouble note, is a fac-simile of the notes found in the perambulator; the other was a 5-rouble note, which is a forgery—this is it (produced)—after that Londynski acted under my directions, and I saw them in Whitechapel Road; Goldberg was there—I searched him, but could not find anything—I did not thoroughly search him—he expressed a readiness to do so, and I felt certain it was no use.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have never given evidence in any of these cases except against Holchester and Hill, who were convicted here of making notes and possessing a plate—there was something like 500l. reward altogether given in that case—I got some of it, and the informers got some—I looked round Goldberg's house, but found nothing of a compromising character, although Londynski had given me information—I said at the police-court "I did expect from information given me by Londynski that I should find some forged notes on Goldberg," but I did not find any.

RAYMOND PFEIFFER . I am chief of the engraving department of the Bank of Russia at St. Petersburg—I have examined the whole of the notes in the possession of the police, including the one marked "B"—they are all forgeries—the watermark is different from a genuine note—there is the head of the Czar in the corner—the paper of the forged notes is different to that of the genuine ones—I have brought with me Russian bank notes of every denomination.

NICHOLAS ORLOFF . I am attached to the Russian Embassy in London—I have translated the letter found on the prisoner as far as I am able.

Silverman's Statement before the Magistrate was here put in, stating that he had been duped; that Cohen came to him and wished him to buy the notes.

PHILIP COHEN (Re-examined by MR. FRITH ). I do not know a Mr.

Solomons, of Birmingham. (Solomons here earn into Court.) I never had a conversation with that man in my life on any subject.

Witnesses for Czernechowski's Defence.

HARRIS ISAACS . I am a tailor, and live at 1, St. Mary's Street, Whitechapel—I know Cohen—I met him about five months ago in Whitechapel—he said to me "Harris, is it true that you were discharged from your employer, from your work?"—I said "Yes; I was discharged about eight months ago"—he said "Take my word, you can believe me, it was all through Gerson Czernechowski, and now is the time, let us have our revenge on him"—I said "What revenge can we have?"—he said "I will soon tell you"—we went into a public-house and had a glass—he said "Come out, I will show you something"—we went to Baker's Row, and he took out a packet and said "This is poison; this will do for Gerson Czernechowski"—I said "What do you mean by poison?"—he said "These are forged rouble notes; we must have the police ready to search the place, and then he will be done for his life, and we shall have money as well"—I considered two or three minutes, and said "I do not want to do such a thing; I do not want to kill a person for nothing at all"—he said "It is very easy to get the notes into his possession, as the door is always open where he lives"—nothing else took place—I have not seen him since except in the Court—Cohen and I were in the same employment—Cohen has said that he only knew Czernechowski since August 22nd, but for four years Czernechowski has called there—we worked together four years ago, and Czernechowski used to call at the place where we worked—I have seen Cohen with Czernechowski—he sometimes used to call him "Blackman"—he says he does not know me in the name of Harris, because my second name is Isaacs—I have actually heard Cohen for four years addressing him as Gerson.

By the JURY. I know Baker's Row—the public-house is not at the corner; it is the second house.

Cross examined by MR. MEAD. I do not know on what business Czernechowski used to call where I worked, but it was to see our employer—I was discharged six months ago—I do not know whether Czernechowski had anything to do with it—I have no reason to think that he caused me to be discharged, if Cohen had not told me so—I have seen him once since my conversation, with Czernechowski—that was in Backchurch Lane—I only spoke a few words to him—I have been to Czernechowski's house, but not since that conversation with Cohen—I know the place; I always found the door open—if Czernechowski was not at home, I did not know where to find him—I did not warn him after I heard of this diabolical suggestion on the part of Cohen—I should not like to take such a revenge upon him—I did not tell him that he was in danger; I did not think of it afterwards—I knew three days after his arrest that he was in custody—I went to Guildhall three weeks afterwards, and was called into Court, but did not rive evidence—no one was present when Cohen talked about the poison—he told me not to tell anybody, and I did not.

Re-examined. I did not ascertain afterwards whether it was true that Czernechowski had caused me to lose my situation-—the next time I met him we conversed about work—he and I and Cohen have been friendly.

JOSEPH LOWINWORTH . I am proprietor of a club and of a restaurant,

and live at 10, Houndsditch—I have assisted Inspector Greenham and others in Russian forgery cases on various occasions, and have given evidence for the prosecution in several cases—a man named Born made a communication to me two or three months ago—while we were speaking Cohen came to us—he called me on one side and said, "I have something to say to you"—I went out with him—he said, "I have something very weighty to tell you, where you can earn a deal of money."—I said, "Of course, why not, in what business?"—he said, "I have some information to give, I have heard that you have also given information at Scotland Yard"—that was true—I said, "Can you tell me what is the purport of your business with me?"—he said, "You can earn from 400l. to 500l. "—I said, "What do you mean by that? what is your name?"—he said, "My name is Philip Cohen"—I said, "What are you?"—he said, "A tailor"—I said, "I am not a tailor"—he said, "No, this is another business"—as soon as I heard him mention his name I remembered that Inspector Egan had inquired after a Philip Cohen two years ago—Cohen said, "Come with me to Scotland Yard, and we shall earn a deal of money; we shall say there that Gerson Czernechowski is making false money"—I said, "What do you mean by that?"—he said, "I shall make it in such a way; I will go to Czernechowski's place, and I will leave some false rouble notes there, and we shall earn a great deal of money"—I said, "Why don't you go yourself?"—he said, "If I go they will not believe me, but they will believe you as you at one time have given information"—I said, "I will not do such a thing, because at one time a Jew came to me and also wished to place some false notes, and the inspectors of Scotland Yard told me that the law of England would not allow such to be done"—my wife was there, and Mr. Born and my brother-in-law, Mr. Lewin, and my son Emmanuel; they are here—the conversation in chief was paid in a very low tone, but afterwards when I spoke to him my wife heard all that passed—she was sitting with a book in her hand next to me, so as to be able to hear all that was said, as I did not go with him into the street when he asked me I knew my wife heard it because she said, "My husband will not do to"—I have known Cohen about two years—he has been to my house—I watched him, and about two months ago he came to my house—Inspector Egan gave me instructions to watch him two years ago, and gave the name and number of his dwelling, as he had sent false rouble notes to Russia—that is how I came to know him two years ago—I remained friendly with him—he said "The door is always open, we can throw the things in"—there was no subsequent conversation—my wife said, "Get out, you bad fellow, my husband will not do such; if my husband wished to do such a thing he would take the man himself, because he is a proper informer"—I told him I would not do so, and he went away—I heard of Czernechowski's arrest in the papers—I went to Scotland Yard on the following Monday, and told the whole affair to Mr. Greenham—that is all I know of it, except that I know that he certainly put the notes there.

Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. I had never spoken to Cohen before this conversation, but I had seen him; he has been at my club two or three times, but apart from that he was a stranger to me—I had been told to watch him two years before to see if he had possession of Russian forged notes—he did not propose then that I should place the notes in Czernechowski's

place; he said that I was to go to Scotland Yard to give information—I declined to place the notes there, and did not go to Scotland Yard—Cohen was at my place on 18th August—I knew Czernechowski before he was in custody—I have not seen him between the time of that conversation and his arrest, as I went to Hamburg on 20th August and came back on 6th September—the Cohen who I was told to watch lived near Petticoat Lane, I cannot recollect whereabouts, somewhere near No. 13!—I pointed Philip Cohen out to Inspector Egan two years ago and said, "Egan, I have discovered the positive truth that this man has false money"—I gave his description to Egan, and said that he was a dealer in these notes, and Egan said, "Watch him"—I said, "Why should I watch him?"—he said, "He has previously sent false money to Russia"—I did not tell him I was watching him, I am not so stupid—I went to Hamburg on 20th August—I was convicted at Guildhall, London, on 25th August, of carrying on a theatre without a licence—I was present, and paid 2l., but I was not fined on the 25th, I was fined on the 19th.

KATE LOWINWORTH . Before my husband went to Hamburg, Philip Cohen called—I did not hear the beginning of that conversation—I heard my husband say, "I can't do that"—I said, "Don't you do that, the English law will out allow him to do such a thing," so my husband would not do it; he would not go and do it, and make the man unfortunate—he said, "If you don't go out I will put you out," and Cohen went away.

Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. Mr. Born only heard what I have said—Lewin is my son-in-law—he heard what I heard, and my son Emmanuel showed Cohen the door.

LEWIS REBHUN . I was at Lowinworth's house before he went to Hamburg—I remember Philip Cohen coming and speaking to my father once, but I did not hear the conversation—Mr. Born was there.

SOLOMON BORN . I am a bootmaker, of 75, Grove Street, Commercial Road—I was at Mr. Lowinworth's just before he went to Hamburg, and saw Philip Cohen speaking to him—I did not hear the conversation.

EMANUEL LOWINWORTH . I am the son of Mr. Lowinworth—I remember Philip Cohen coming to see my father, but did not hear what he said—my mother was there—I heard my father and mother say, "That is not right to get a man in trouble," and if he wanted to get him in trouble he should go and inform them at Scotland Yard—my father halloaed that to him.

D. LEWIN. I live at 38, Little Queen Street, Holborn—on Sunday, 6th September, between 11 and 12 a.m., I took a parcel to Czernechowski's house, 151, Bishopsgate Street, containing a pair of trousers—I saw a man go in whose name I do not know; that is him (Pointing to Cohen)—I saw him entering the house—he remained there four or five minutes, and came out again, and threw a sharp sight on me specially, and then walked away—I was talking to Mr. Benjamin, who is here—there was a perambulator in the passage.

Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. I went in to leave the trousers, and after I came out I saw Cohen go, and he ought to have seen me—I could not see into the passage of the house, where I was standing because I was a good distance away—Benjamin was talking to me—he was going upstairs; he had some business for Czernechowski—I had seen Cohen

before—I saw an account in the Evening News on Monday that Czernechowski was in custody—I had no idea then that Cohen had put the notes in the perambulator; I did not think there was something wrong then—I did not mention this to anybody—after I saw it in the paper I thought there was something wrong—I went to Guildhall about four weeks ago—I communicated with Czernechowski and his friends before I went there, but I was not called as a witness.

Re-examined. No witnesses were called at the police-court—I have no connection of any kind with any of these people.

JOSEPH BENJAMIN . I live at 4, Aldgate—on Sunday, 6th September, between 11 and 12 a.m., I went to Czernechowski, and met Mr. Lewin—I saw a man with whiskers go into the yard; that is the man (Cohen)—he entered the passage, and came out, had a look at me, and went away—I had never seen him before—when I passed the public-house the same day Czernechowski was standing outside.

Cross-examined. I never saw Cohen before, I saw him afterwards at Guildhall; I know this was 6th September, because it was Sunday.

Re examined. It was the day that Czernechowski was arrested; I saw him arrested, and fix the date by that—Cohen looked round specially, which is the reason I remember his face.

By the COURT. I went to buy clothes of Czernechowski, but I did not do any business with him—I did not see any one—I did not go with Lewin, I went by myself; I waited 20 minutes, and met Lewin, who said that Czernechoweki was not at home—I am no relation or connection of Czernechowski; I have only done business with him.

ADOLPH SILVERSTEIN . I know Philip Cohen—about 17 or 18 weeks ago I came home and found him there—he said "Silverstein, I have known you 13 or 14 years; you have plenty of customers coming to your place, won't you introduce me to some customers?"—I said "If I had not known you for so many years, I should have kicked you out, but as I know you, you had better keep away"—I am a hairdresser.

Cross-examined. I was going to kick him out because he said "You could introduce me to some customers who would like to buy some Russian rouble notes"—I am Silverman's son-in-law.

NATHAN SOLOMAN . I live at Birmingham—I was in London in August and saw Cohen, who I have known for the last 10 years—we had a little commonplace talk; I told him that I was going abroad—he said "If you are going abroad I can put a couple of pounds in your way, if you post a letter abroad"—I afterwards received a telegram from him that my father, who lived in Russia, had died—he did not ask where I was going, but he knew I came from Russia—I asked him what the letter was about—he said "It is an important letter"—I went away, and about September 24th I saw him again—I had a long job in London; I am a painter—there are excursions from Birmingham at 4s. 6d., and I took a painter to work who could not speak much English, and I went into Church Lane—he tapped me on the shoulder and said "How did you get on about your letter that you were speaking to me about?"—he said "I have succeeded with great success, and I shall be a retired man with a lot of money"—I did not ask him what the letter was about—the two men who were with me are here, Landoe and Abrahamovitz; they cannot speak good English—one is a painter.

Cross-examined by MR. MEAD. The conversation was in the Jews'

language, which is like broken German—the other men were near enough to hear what Cohen said—this was Thursday, September 4th, of the Jews' holidays.

JACOB LANDOW (Interpreted). I was with Mr. Solomon five weeks tomorrow, it was the first day of Tabernacles—I saw Cohen, but I did not hear what he said to Solomon, as he called him away—Mr. Abrahamovitz was with us; three of us were standing together, and Solomon called Cohen on one side.

Cross-examined. They were talking in Jewish, in Hebrew.

DAVID SMITH . I am a butcher—Goldberg's sister is in my service—about three weeks before Czernechowski was arrested Goldberg called at my house one night and took out a lot of papers, and said "I hope I shall do well with these papers, but unfortunately to-day I did not meet the Russian Consul, I met the clerk; they do not promise any reward until you show something, and then you may get something"—I did not answer.

Cross-examined. He did not tell me what papers they were, but they looked like Russian notes—I looked at them, but when I was in Russia notes were different altogether.

SIMON FLAUM . I am a plasterer, of 1, Davidson's Buildings—about three months ago the witness Daniel Goldberg called on me; I have known him about three years—he asked me if I knew any countrymen—I said "What for?"—he said "I have got some notes to sell"—I said "What notes?"—he said "False notes"—I said "I don't want to have anything to do with it, will you take and hook it, if not I will break your hips for you, because you are a convicted man"—I threatened to break his head.

Cross-examined. I knew it was wrong to pass false notes, but I gave no information to the police.

LOUIS CRUJER . I live at 16, Church Lane; I know Lowdinski—one day after the Passover I was standing at my door, about 6 a.m., and I opened my shutters and was waiting for my people to come to work—Londynski stood by the Synagogue and said "Good morning, will you make your fortune?"—I said "I wish I could make half a fortune"—he said "You can make a fortune," and he opened his coat and took out a paper parcel and gave me some notes—I said "Can you change them at the bank?"—he said "No"—I said "Clear away at once; if you come back I will call the police"—I have known him about a year and a half.

Cross-examined. Londynski was never door-keeper at the Synagogue.

MENDLE REBACK (Interpreted). I live at 18, Church Lane East—I have known Londynski ever since I have been in this country, two years—he proposed to go into partnership with me in wine and spirits—he was to bring the capital, as I had none, and he showed me some notes, and said "With these we shall be able to get the spirits and the wine"—I told him not to come to my place any more—I went down in the cellar, and searched and found the same paper which he had taken out of his pocket—I then took him down to the cellar, and compelled him to pick it up, and he put it in his pocket, and told me to tell nobody about it.

ALFRED TRAFFORD . I am a butcher, of 151, Bishopsgate Street—on the day that Czernechowski was arrested I followed him into the Lucky Bob, and was in the same compartment, and sat about a yard from him and Philip Cohen; Czernechowski never took out or showed any paper or

parcel, nor was there any conversation in our language about 20l.—it is impossible that I could have failed to see it—they went out after having the drink, and I saw him arrested just outside—a detective asked me a question—I live in the same house as Czernechowski, but am not related to him—the passage where the perambulator stood, goes into the street—any one in the street could have access to it.

Cross-examined. Silverman was also in the public-house, and two more men came in and had some drink and went out—they are not here—Czernechowski went out first with his hands in his pockets—they all three followed one another out—I did not go outside—the door was open opposite where I was sitting—I could not see the passage of his house, but I am quite sure he never left the door before he was arrested.

HENRY MARTIN . I live at 178, Tyson Street, Brick Lane—I know Czernechowski—I saw him come out of the side door of the Lucky Bob on September 6th, and saw the two officers arrest him—he had not time to go up the passage of his house and put anything in the perambulator.

ISAAC MOURITZ . On the day that Czernechowski was arrested I went into the Lucky Bob, and saw the prisoners and another man; I don't know their names—I was in the same compartment—nothing like notes or papers were taken out and shown to my knowledge, and I was very close to them—I saw him arrested when he had got a yard or a yard and a half outside the door—I do not know his house.

Cross-examined. He had not time to go into the passage of his house.

MARK SILVER . I live at 78, Bernard Street, Commercial Road—I went to Czernechowski's house on September 6th, and saw him—he was with a young man and an old man—we went into the Lucky Bob—I was in the same compartment with them; Cohen was there—I did not see Czernechowski take out any parcel of notes—I saw him arrested—he had not time to enter his house, or go to the perambulator.

Cross-examined. There were a lot of people in the compartment, but I could see what took place, because I was watching him.


THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 28th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-998
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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998. JOHN ABRAHAMS (38) PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to defraud his creditors, and making preparation for quitting England, and taking with him part of his property to the amount of 20l. and upwards.— Judgment respited.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-999
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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999. CHARLES EDWIN MOORE to endeavouring to induce Charles Webb, Sidney Henry Gaines, Percy Bridges, and George Norman to commit immoral acts and practices. ( He received a good character.)Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1000
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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1000. HENRY FRANCIS EBDON , Obtaining by false pretences from Henry Leicester 50l., with intent to defraud, upon which MR. BLACKWELL offered no evidence.


The COURT ordered the prosecutor to pay costs not exceeding 20l.

FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, 28th October, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1001
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1001. JOSEPH COX (31) , Unlawfully attempting to have carnal knowledge with Catherine Sherwin and Hannah Florence Sherwin, girls under the age of 13. MR. PARKES Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.


Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1002
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1002. GEORGE HYAM , Feloniously wounding Alfred Hards and causing him grievous bodily harm.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. BLACKWELL Defended.

ALERED HARDS . I live at Esher Street, Canning Town Park, and am a toll collector to the North Woolwich Land Company—on 6th July I was on duty in Lilliput Road—between 10 and 11 o'clock a costermonger's barrow came along at a rapid pace—a man and a woman were in it—it was going about 12 miles an hour—I went forward to stop it, to compel the persons to pay toll—I seized the reins—there are two lamps there—the prisoner was driving it—his face was familiar to me as coming through the gate without paying toll—I said "Stop"—he swore at me—I struggled to prevent his driving through—he urged his horse faster, and I was thrown down, and he drove over me—I still held the reins while I was down—the horse then backed, and the wheel passed over me a second time—the prisoner drove away, leaving me on the ground—I was taken to Dr. Finlay's, and then to the hospital, where I remained till 10th September—1 suffered from injury to my knee and other bruises—I am still an out-patient—the prisoner was brought to my bedside the following Wednesday morning, and I pointed him out as the man who had injured me.

Cross-examined. I had seen him on two or three occasions before I saw him at my bedside—I was struggling with the horse for nearly 10 minutes before I was thrown—I said "That resembles the man," or "That resembles him very much"—I did not see Sergeant Attewell tap him on the shoulder.

WILLIAM WILKES (Policeman K 595). On 6th July I was on duty in the Lilliput Road about 10.30 p.m., about a quarter of a mile from Hard's tollgate—I saw a costermonger's barrow driven at a rapid pace—it passed me—a man and a woman were in it—I was able to identify the pony and harrow—the prisoner said on the morning of the 8th they belonged to him—I had seen the barrow before—the prisoner was using it—on 8th July I saw the prisoner driving the barrow—on the 6th I went to the gate and found Hards lying on the ground and suffering from injury to his knee—he was conveyed to Dr. Finlay's—I afterwards took him in an ambulance to Poplar Hospital—it was a thick-set bay pony.

Cross-examined. I have not seen barrows boxed in like that before.

JOHN LE DUC (Policeman K 689). At 10.30 on 6th July I was in the Connaught Road—I saw a pony and a barrow with a man and woman in

it being driven along—I was also with Wilkes and saw it again on the 8th, with the prisoner in it—the prisoner resembled the man I had seen on the 6th.

OWEN ATTEWELL (Policeman K 14). On 8th July I saw a pony and costermonger's barrow in Connaught Road, driven by the prisoner—in consequence of what was said to me by Wilkes and Le Duc I said to the prisoner "I shall take you in custody on suspicion of causing grievous bodily harm to Alfred Hards the night before last"—that would be the 6th July—he said "You have made a mistake this time, old man, I was at home and in bed at 9 o'clock"—I told him he must go with me to Plaistow Station—the woman who was riding with him in the cart said in his presence "You have taken us for the wrong parties, we were not this way at all at a quarter to 11 on Monday night"—I had not mentioned the time—the prisoner got out of the cart and I took him to Plaistow Station—he said "I can easily prove where I was on Monday night; somebody will have to pay for this"—he repeated that several times—farther along he said "I went with a lodger of mine to Stratford by the 20 to 8 train from Silvertown and got measured for a waistcoat and a pair of trousers; we had two or three glasses of beer, and we came back by the 10.20 from Stratford; there is another thing I can tell you, but hold on, perhaps I had better not say too much;" and soon after he said "The porter at Silvertown tapped me on the shoulder and said I had given up the wrong ticket, but it was not me, it was a man in front of me"—I took him to Poplar Hospital about 11 o'clock—I placed him with four other men at the prosecutor's bedside, who carefully scrutinised them for a considerable time, and then arose in the bed and intently looked at the prisoner for the best part of a minute, and then said "That man resembles him very much"—I placed my hand on the prisoner and said "Do you mean this one?" and he said "Yes"—the prisoner then said "He knows me well enough, and I know him"—I took him back to Plaistow Station, where he was charged—he has been remanded from time to time, and committed for trial.

Cross-examined. We have no books for notes, we make them on anything—I made my notes as soon after as I possibly could—I could not do so in the street—I have in my notes "old man;" if I said "governor" at the police-court it must have been a mistake—I took a man named Wallington to be identified, as the man who drove over the prosecutor—the prosecutor picked out another man; I do not know his name.

THOMAS JARRETT . I live at 16, Dempster Road, North Woolwich, and am a tollkeeper—I was with Sergeant Attewell on 8th July when the prisoner was taken—the prisoner said that he was at home at 9 o'clock the night before last—the woman said the sergeant had taken them for the wrong people, they were not there at all the night before last—nothing had been said about the hour.

ARCHIBALD GEORGE ANDREWS . I am resident medical officer of Poplar Hospital—about 2 a.m. on 6th July Hards was brought there suffering from a very bad lacerated wound on his knee—it might have been caused by his being run over—he was an in-patient till 10th September, and is still an out-patient—he is sure to have some trouble with it for some months, when he is likely to get well—there is no injury to the bone.

Witnesses for the Defence.

WILLIAM WEBBER . I am a labourer, of 15, Constance Street, Silvertown

—I lodge with the prisoner—on 6th July I asked him to go to Stratford with, me about 6.15—he put his pony in the stable—we went to Silvertown Station, and were there at 7.40—we took our tickets, and the next train to Stratford Bridge—we then went to Redman Brothers, a clothier's, to buy a pair of trousers and a waistcoat—we were there about 9 o'clock—we then came to the public-house opposite the station, and had two half-pints of bitter—we came out of there at 10.10, and went by tho Woolwich train at Stratford and got to Silvertown about 10.30—then I went home; I got there about 10.40—we had a bit of supper, and went to bed at 11 o'clock—this is the bill for the clothes—I heard that the prisoner had been arrested on the 8th.

Cross-examined. Hard's gate is from half to three-quarters of a mile from Silvertown Station—the prisoner lives about five minutes' walk from the station, and across the road is the Woolwich Land Company's premises—he has a wife—I never knew him drive out of an evening without it is Sunday—he has no business out, he has done his work—I know it was the 6th—I cannot read or write, but I know a "6"—my wife was with him on the 8th—she goes to market, but not for a drive—I left my wife at home when I went for the trousers and waistcoat.

ERNEST DEAKDEN . I am a clothier's assistant, of No. 2, Angel Lane, Stratford—on 6th July I was at 367, High Street, Stratford—I examined an invoice which was produced at the police-court; it was made out by my assistant in my presence—I saw that the dates, figures, and writing on it were correct—I saw Webber in the shop on 6th July between 9 and 9.30; the prisoner was with him—I put the order in this book (produced) myself under date 6th July—this is the book by which we check the invoices—the goods were to be delivered on the following Saturday—we enter every article we sell and every check we have from a customer—I produce the order—this is not my writing, but my assistant's, and I gave the measures out—it was the prisoner who had the decision of the matter.


Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1003
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1003. RICHARD GLAISTER (33) , Rape on Louisa Cooke, aged under 13 years.

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

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1004
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1004. ANTHONY CHEWSTER (40) , Maliciously wounding William Smith, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. JONES Prosecuted.

WILLIAM SMITH . I live at Walthamstow—on Sunday, 22nd September, about 4 p.m., I was in Leyton Road, and saw the prisoner chasing a lot of children, with stones in his hand—I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself—he drew out a knife and said, "We fight with knives in our country, and not with fists," and I received a stab on my hand—he threw me on the ground, and stabbed at me several times, but I caught the hand the knife was in—a young man came up and put his foot on the prisoner's wrist, and took the knife out of his hand—I was getting weak through loss of blood—I gave him in charge—he said he wished he had killed me—Dr. Gould dressed my hand first—I think I have lost the use of one finger.

ALBERT DIBBLE . I saw the prisoner flourishing a knife—Smith said he should be ashamed of himself frightening a lot of people—he said "You have a belt on?"—the prisoner said "Yes; we fight with knives in our country, and not with fists," and he took up the knife to aim at Smith's neck, and got it through his hand—the prisoner said he was an Irish-American—he got Smith on the ground and had him by the neck, and he was going to put it through his chest—I rushed at him and stepped on his wrist, and got this knife away (produced)—I cut his hand.

FREDERICK HARDMAN (Policeman N 660). I took the prisoner on the Sunday—Dibble gave me the knife—both the prisoner and prosecutor were bleeding—the prisoner said he wished he had killed every b—son of a bitch of Englishmen he came near—I took him to the station I was present when the inspector took down his statement.

JOSEPH HUDSON (Police Inspector). The prisoner was brought to Lea Bridge Road Police station on Sunday, 22nd September, and charged—he made this statement (produced)—I told him to be careful beforehand, as it might be used in evidence against him—he said "Some boys passed me, and I ran down a field after them, as they were throwing stones at me. I did not throw stones, but I did have some in my hand; I drew a knife, but I did not strike till I had two blows from different parties, two from the prosecutor and another from a young man in light clothes with a stick."

HENRY GOULD . I am divisional surgeon, and dressed a wound on the prosecutor's hand—it was a stab, between the first finger and thumb—it could be caused by this knife—it was dangerous, and might have caused lockjaw.

Prisoner's Defence. He told me I ought to be ashamed of myself. I said "What for?" He said "You are a b—yoker," and said he would it me, and a young man came up and struck me.

WILLIAM SMITH (Re-examined). That is false; there was not a blow struck till he attempted to escape.

GUILTY . The Jury highly commended Dibble for his courageous conduct, and the COURT awarded him 5l.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.


Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1005
VerdictMiscellaneous > unfit to plead
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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1005. MARTHA ELLIOTT HOWARD (27) for the wilful murder of Minnie Howard.

DR. ROBERT M. GOVER , M.D., stated that the prisoner was insane and unable to instruct a solicitor, and the Jury found her insane and unfit to plead.To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1006
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1006. WILLIAM CLARK (31) PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to break and enter the shop of Nathaniel Wegg, with intent to steal therein, and to being found by night armed with a dangerous instrument, with intent to commit a felony; also to a previous conviction.— Two Years' Hard Labour. And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1007
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1007. HARRY SPRING (38) ** to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Henry Thomas, and stealing a coat and hat his property.— Twelve Months' Sard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1008
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1008. OWEN LATTER (43) , Carnally knowing and abusing Emily Ray, a girl under the age of 16.


GUILTY .— Two Years' Sard Labour.

Before Mr. Recorder.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1009
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1009. JAMES FORD (19) PLEADED GUILTY to robbery on William Randolph, and stealing a watch and chain, his property.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1010
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1010. ARTHUR VALENTINE LOVESAY (21) to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Sarah Pearson 6l. 10s., with intent to defraud, and to a conviction of felony in January, 1884, at Bow Street.— Three Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Before Mr. Justice Day.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1011
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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1011. EDWARD FARMER (20) , Rape on Alice Grady, aged five years.


GUILTY .— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1012
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1012. ALLEN FITZALLAN (33) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

HENRY STEVENS . I keep the Olive Branch, 142, High Street, Clapham—on 13th August, about 10 a.m., I served the prisoner with drink—he paid with good money—between 6 and 7 p.m. he came with another man—I served him with a pot of fourpenny-ale—he tendered a bad florin—I showed it to my wife, and when I returned he had gone—I destroyed it a fortnight or three weeks afterwards in the kitchen fire—it was light, and felt greasy—I am sure the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined. I did not know him previously—I have not mistaken a good coin for a bad one—I have been at this public-house four and a half years—I saw the prisoner with three or four men in a room at the back of the station at Wandsworth—they were not like him.

JANE RAWLINGS . I am a tobacconist, at 50, Clapham Park Road—about 2 o'clock on 27th August I served the prisoner with threepenny-worth of cigarettes—he tendered a bad half-crown—I broke a small piece out of it and said "This is bad"—he said "Smash it up"—I said "Yes, I am going to," and threw it on the counter in front of me—he picked it up and tendered a good one—I gave him 2s. 3d. change and he left, taking the bad coin with him—I was sent for to the police-station on 9th September—I recognised the prisoner as he passed my house on his way to the station—the coin was greasy.

Cross-examined. I have not mistaken a good coin for a bad one—I was

offered five bad ones in a fortnight—I soon spotted them—I am sure the prisoner is the man.

ROSTON HULLS . I am a tobacconist, of 109, Clapham Park Road—on 5th September, between 11 and 12 a.m., I served the prisoner with an ounce of Cavendish—he tendered a half-crown; I gave him 2s. 2d. change, and put it in the till; that was the only one there—about 3 p.m. my son examined the till in my presence; I examined it too—the half-crown was bad—I put it by and eventually gave it to a constable—the following Monday, the 7th, the prisoner gave me another one between 12 and 1 o'clock—I put that with the other in a cup on the mantelpiece—he asked for an ounce of Cavendish—I knew him as the man who had been in several times—I bit the coin and rubbed it with my fingers; it was very black—I went into a butcher's shop, the prisoner followed me—he asked me to try another, which he had in his hand, but I would not—I went back to my shop and looked for a constable, but the prisoner had gone—another half-crown had been left about two days previous to the Saturday—I put them all together—I am sure the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined. I think we took all our bad money from the prisoner—we have taken about 10s. 6d. bad money within about a fortnight—Rawlings and Stevens are near neighbours—I saw the prisoner at the station with ten or eleven working men—I could not see any like him—I have never mistaken a man for somebody else.

LAURA CLARK . I am barmaid at the Alexandra Hotel, Clapham Common—on 5th September, about 11.50 a.m., I served the prisoner with threepennyworth of ginger brandy—he tendered a half-crown—I gave him the change and put it in the till—the barman afterwards made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went to the till and examined it—I tried the half-crown with my teeth; they sank into it—I gave it to my master—this is it; I recognise it by my teeth marks—I am sure the prisoner is the man—I had seen him before.

Cross-examined. He was a customer—we were not very busy—two other customers were in the bar—some one else was serving—the prisoner remained about three minutes—I went to the station on Friday, the 9th, and recognised the prisoner.

FREDERICK WOOD . I live at the Masons' Arms, Park Crescent, Clapham—on 9th September, about 3.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with some beer—he tendered a bad half-crown—I bent it in the door and then on the counter, and said "This is bad"—he said he did not know it, and gave me a good one—I asked him if he knew where he got it from—he said he did not, he had changed it at the White Horse, Brixton—I gave him the bad one back—I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change—when he left I went to the till and found another bad half-crown—I followed the prisoner, stopped him, and said "Have you got any more?"—he said "No"—I asked him to come back, and took him back to the Mason's Arms—a constable was sent for, who searched him in my presence—on the way back to the house I said "What have you done with the bad half-crown?"—he said "I have broken it up and thrown it in the field."

THOMAS THOMAS (Policeman W 481). Wood gave the prisoner into my custody—I searched him and found two sovereigns, four half-crowns, one florin, nine separate shillings, two sixpences, and 1s. 10 1/2 d. in bronze,

all good—I found a pocket-book, a key, a knife, some powder, and wash-leather—I asked him what he had done with the half-crown—he said he had cut it up in four pieces, and thrown it into a field—I took him to the station—he was charged, and subsequently identified.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are all bad—this powder can be used for smoothing coins—these two coins produced by Clark and Hulls are from the same mould.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction of felony at Newington in March, 1879, in the name of Thomas Morrison.— Two Years' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1013
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

1013. WILLIAM PIKE (28) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted; MR. BLACK Defended.

ABEL HILBERT . I live at 79, Meyrick Road, Battersea, and am tram conductor No. 5865—on 19th September, about 11.15 p.m., my car was journeying down the Battersea Park Road by the Albert Palace when the prisoner got on it—I took his fare a little farther on—he tendered a bad florin—I put it in my bag—as he got off in a short distance I examined it—I handed it to Smith, the traffic superintendent, the following day, having marked it just above the crown on the head side—I went to the police station on the Monday and identified him—I am positive he is the man.

Cross-examined. We carry from 500 to 600 passengers a day—I discovered that the money was spurious within 50 yards after he got down—I suspected him, because he only rode about 150 yards after I took his fare—I never knew any one to ride so short a distance—the car was not crowded—it was going six miles an hour when he jumped off.

Re-examined. He came down the steps from the top, and passed me—I was under the stairs, with my back to the tram—this was the only florin I took on the journey.

WILLIAM HENRY SMITH . I am a bricklayer, of 59, Calvert Road, Battersea—on Saturday night, 19th or 20th Sept., I was riding on a tramcar from Westminster to Calvert Road—the prisoner was sitting by my side on the top—he told me he had had two bad half-crowns poked into him on the Friday, and he must get rid of them somehow; he could not do it by daylight; he must do it by dark—it was a little after 12 o'clock—Webb came and collected the fares—I saw the prisoner pass something—I could not say what it was—the prisoner afterwards said to Webb "Here, old man, don't forget my change"—Webb said "Who are you poking at?" and went round collecting his fares—when he came round a second time the prisoner repeated "Here, old man, don't forget my change for the half-crown"—Webb went down the stairs and came back and said "I am very sorry, old man, to think I have made a mistake," and gave the prisoner some change—Webb afterwards came back and said "Let us see, you are the young man who gave me the half-crown?"—the prisoner said "No; I gave you twopence"—Webb said "If you don't give me my change back I shall lock you up"—the prisoner said "I only gave you twopence"—Webb hailed a policeman, who got on the top—the prisoner took money out of his pocket and put it between the bars of the seat—I picked up three copper coins and gave them to Webb.

Cross-examined. I had been to ray mother's in Church Terrace, Waterloo Road—I had met my mates—we had had no party—I had more than a quart of beer, nothing else; I was sober—the car was full; we sat on the rail—Webb said, "All right, if I have got it it must be in my bag"—I heard no conversation about a bright penny—I was asked for my address, and gave the wrong number because I did not know it, I had not been there long enough; I gave the right one afterwards, 59, Calvert Road; I gave "49," I think—I was on the tram half an hour—seats were changed.

WILLIAM HENRY WEBB . I live at 9, Warpole Street, Wandsworth—I am a tram conductor—I was conducting this car about midnight—I went on the roof to collect the fares a little after 12 o'clock—the prisoner gave me two coins—he was leaning against the rail—the car was pretty full, but there was room farther on—I put the coin with my coppers—I gave him a twopenny ticket—he afterwards said he gave me a half-crown—I said, "Nonsense, I have not had a half-crown"—I went on collecting my fares—he then asked me for change for the half-crown—I said, "If you gave me a half-crown it is amongst my coppers," and pulled out the coppers and found this half-crown amongst them (produced)—I asked him if that was the one he gave me—he said, "Yes, that is my half-crown, I should not cheat you"—I gave him the change—I said "2s. 5d.?"—he said, "No, 2s. 4d. "—I gave him two separate shillings and four pence—I thought I was to keep the penny, because the right change would have been 2s. 5d.—later on I examined the half-crown, and found it bad, by bending it slightly with my fingers—I went to the prisoner and said, "I have given you change for half-a-crown, but I shall want the change back again, the 2s. 4d. I have given you or another half-crown"—he said he had not given me the half-crown and he had not any change—he held some money up and said, "This is the change I have got"—I said, "If you don't give me the change I shall have to give you in charge"—he would not do so, and I called a policeman—he was charged at Battersea Park Police-station—the following day Smith the inspector gave me a half-crown and tnese other coins, which were found where the prisoner had been sitting.

Cross-examined. I collected the fares on the Embankment; it was a dark place, but I could see distinctly—I thought the prisoner was joking—I only went half-way down the stairs, I never reached the platform, when he asked me for the change—I did not stay a minute—he looked just as he is now.

Re examined. I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is the man.

FREDERICK BROWN (Policeman W 404). On 20th September, about 12.30, I was called on to the tram-car in the Battersea Park Road—Webb said, "I wish to give this man in custody for passing a bad half-crown"—the prisoner put his hand in his pocket and said, "Here's the change I have"—he produced two or three shillings and some bronze money, and said he had not given a half-crown—I searched him, and found 3s. 6d. in good silver and 7d. bronze.

CHARLES WILLIAM MARTIN . I live at 4, Cedar Terrace, Wandsworth—I am employed by the South London Tram Car Company—on 20th September I was in the yard at Wandsworth when Webb's car came in—my attention was called to the scat of the car, and I found this old

half-crown of William III. and this Californian medal—I handed them to the inspector.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This half-crown and florin are bad—the other half-crown is a good one of William III.; the edge has been taken off; it may have been subjected to acid, which would cause it to lose weight—I cannot speak to the date—it is 70 grains light—it would pass—these are half-farthings—this is a Dutch coin.

The prisoner received a good character.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1014
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1014. WILLIAM SMITH (40) and ROBERT FITZGERALD (24) , Feloniously assaulting Benjamin Bromfield, with intent to rob him.

MR. KISCH Prosecuted; MR. PAWLEY Defended.

BENJAMIN BROMFIELD . I am a clerk, and live at 9, Bath Terrace, Trinity Square—on 8th July, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I was in Mansfield Street, Borough, going home—I stayed for a necessary purpose against a brick wall in Mansfield Street—I was about to go on my way when I was suddenly attacked and thrown down, and the prisoners were on top of me—I called out "Help" and "Police"—I had 3l. in gold and silver in my pocket, and a watch—one of them said "How dare you make water over me?"—that was untrue, I had not seen them—the other tried to put his hand into my right trousers pocket, where the gold was—a constable came up, and I was immediately rescued—my hat was knocked off, and my wrist severely sprained; I was thrown down in trying to protect myself—I had had a glass, that is all—I was sober, but very much terrified and excited—there is a lamp near—I was on the ground not more than a minute.

Cross-examined. I had very likely three glasses of ale altogether during the day—I had been to the Surrey Theatre—I identify them because they were taken—I saw them in custody the same evening—I had a frock coat on, unbuttoned—my chain could not be seen because it is black—I was on my back when he accused me—I did not say "It is a lie"—I contradicted him of course—I should say the men were not drunk.

Re-examined. Something might have been felt outside my pocket—the money was in paper—it was gold, silver, and bronze.

MATTHEW CLICK (Policeman M 225). Between 11 and 12 p.m. on 18th July I heard cries of "Police" and "Help" in Mansfield Street—I made my way there from Earle Street—there are only two lamps, one at each end of Earle Street—about the centre of Mansfield Street I heard a scuffle—I ran across the road and saw the prisoners on the top of Bromfield—I pulled them off—Smith was on his left and Fitzgerald on his right, in a stooping position on the top of him—the man was on his back—I handed Smith to another officer and held Fitzgerald, who said the man made water over his trousers—the prosecutor said he had done no such thing, he never saw the man—Fitzgerald's trousers were perfectly dry—I took the prisoners to the station, where Fitzgerald, referring to Smith, said "This man has no right to be charged, I was the man who knocked him down, I would have served you the same if you had done as he has done"—I am sure I saw Smith holding the prosecutor down.

Cross-examined. Both the prisoners were holding the man down, I could not see what else they were doing, it was very dark—nothing was

said about picking up the prosecutor's hat till the second examination at the police-court—Smith did not pick it up, I did, and put it on his head—I examined Fitzgerald's trousers under the lamp and likewise at the police-station—I felt with my hands all the way down the front and back part of his trousers—there was no attempt to rescue.

JOHN SHELTON . I am a pensioner from the police, and live at 100, Lancaster Street—I was with Click on 18th July—I heard shouts—we went to Mansfield Street—1 saw the prosecutor on his back and the prisoners over him—I could not see what Smith was doing, Thick was in front of me and had hold of him with both hands—he handed him over to me—I heard the complaint about making water—the prosecutor said he did not do such a thing—I saw Click make an examination there then, and also at the police-station—Click picked up the prosecutor's hat.

Cross-examined. Both prisoners were over the prosecutor—they made no attempt to run away, they had no chance.

GUILTY . They then PLEADED GUILTY * to convictions of felony at Newington, Smith in March, 1878, and Fitzgerald in January, 1883.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1015
VerdictsMiscellaneous > unfit to plead
SentencesImprisonment > insanity

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1015. MARY CATHERINE BUKNELL (28) , For the wilful murder of Mabel Unice Mary Buknell, aged three years and six months.


Upon the evidence of DR. ROBERT MUNDAY GOVER the Jury found that the prisoner did not know the nature and quality of the act she did when she took the child's life. To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure. There was another indictment against the prisoner for the murder of another child aged 11 months.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1016
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1016. GEORGE TOLSON , Rape on Mary Ann Connell, aged seven years.


GUILTY of the attempt.Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1017
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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1017. MARY ANN WOODS (26) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Ellen Saddington Woods, with intent to murder her. Second Count, wounding her with intent to do her some grievous bodily harm.



ELIZABETH MARGARET CARTER . I am the wife of James Carter, of Royal Oak Passage, Huntingdon—my maiden name was Woods—the prisoner is my sister—I have been married about twelve months, and before my marriage I lived with my father near Huntingdon—before the birth of my sister's child she was in the service of Mr. Waley—she was confined in July, 1879, and the child was named Ellen Saddington Woods—the father's name was Saddington—he was a potman—my sister nursed the child at first, and then left it in the care of my mother, and then went out to service again, near Croydon, and then she went back to Mr. Whaley's—in January, 1885, she came down home, and took the child away with her, and in June, 1885, she made an application to me that I should take the child—I agreed to take it, and the child came to me in the care of a railway guard, and I took care of it up to Thursday, 13th

August this year—I was expecting to be confined myself, and I wrote to my sister Eliza to take the child off my hands—some letters passed between us, and I sent the child on August 13th by train from Huntingdon to King's Gross, leaving Huntingdon at half-past 6 o'clock in the evening—I sent with the child a night-dress, a pinafore, and a brown paper parcel—my sister paid me for the maintenance of the child during the time I had the care of it 15s.—after I had sent the child by the train on 13th August, a gentleman from a workhouse in London called on me and made a statement to me, and in consequence of what he said I gave him the prisoner's address in London, and after that day one of the Huntingdon police called on me—I also gave him my sister's address—I saw the little girl before the Magistrate whose throat was cut; she is the little girl referred to in my evidence—she is my sister's child, and the one I had taken charge of—she was born in July, 1879—I have compared a copy of the register of the child's birth with the original register at Huntingdon.

Cross-examined. During the two years I had charge of the child my sister came down and saw it once, and she stayed for a week—the child did not know that my sister was its mother—the child used to call my sister "Polly"—during the week my sister and the child were together my sister pretended to be its aunt; there was great affection between the two, and they both appeared to be very fond of each other—I do not know that my sister's wages were only 14l. a year.

HANNAH WATSON . I am a widow, and live at 16, Lamb's Conduit Street—I was employed at the Sun public-house in Lamb's Conduit Street, where the prisoner was a servant, but I did not live at the Sun—I lived at No. 16—at the beginning of January this year the prisoner brought me a child to take charge of; that was the little girl which I have seen here to-day—she said that she was the aunt of the child, and that its name was Ellen Woods, and that its mother was dead—she did not tell me the father's name, or that the child was hers—I always thought that it was her niece—the prisoner paid me 4s. a week for the child—she did not pay me for 21 weeks—I took the child to my sister-in-law's, Mrs. Ellen Watson, who lived at South Street, Islington—the prisoner used generally to give me the money to take to Mrs. Ellen Watson; that was 4s. a week for 21 weeks, or about that time—I kept the child from Monday evening to Friday night, only a few days—all this time I was working as a servant at the Sun public-house—on a Thursday in August the prisoner came to me and spoke to me about the child—what she said was "Can you take the child for a few days?"—that was Thursday, August 13th, and she asked me to take the child for a few days while she got a place for it—she said that it was in the workhouse—I said that I did not think I could, but a friend of mine, Mrs. Johnson, would perhaps take it—she did not tell me how it was that the child got into the workhouse—I afterwards spoke to Mrs. Johnson and went into the workhouse, and the prisoner went with me, and Mrs. Johnson spoke to me about taking charge of the child—at that time the prisoner asked Mrs. Johnson to go and fetch the child out of the workhouse, and Mrs. Johnson said she did not mind; she would fetch her out—Mrs. Johnson did not say anything about how the child got into the workhouse; she is here—she did fetch the child on the Friday morning, and on the evening of that Friday I saw the child in Mrs. Johnson's care—I know that she fetched

it on that Friday, but I do not know the date—she saw the prisoner on a Thursday, and the child was fetched out on the Friday—the child had been to bed when I saw her—Mrs. Johnson lived on the second floor of the same house as I live in, 16, Lamb's Conduit Street—I saw the prisoner afterwards on a Saturday; that was the day after the child came out of the workhouse—I spoke to her about the child, and said "Mrs. Johnson says that I must know all about the child"—she said "No; I did not know anything about it"—I mean that she said that I knew nothing about the child—I told her that Mrs. Johnson said that I had been working there so long that I must know that she (the prisoner) was the mother of the child—she said no, she was not, and she would bring a doctor to show that she never had a child—she afterwards told me that she was going away, and was going home on Monday night, and was going to take the child with her—I said "How long has your mistress given you?"—she said "Until night," and that if she came home by an early train on Tuesday she would see me again—it was on the Saturday, the day after the child was taken out of the workhouse, that she told me she was going home on the next Monday—I afterwards saw her again; I do not remember the date, but it was on the day she had stated previously that she was going home, not the Monday week but the next Monday, the following Monday after the child was taken out of the workhouse—the child had been out of the workhouse a week before it was taken away by the prisoner—it must have been a week with Mrs. Johnson before the prisoner took it away—the child was in Mr. Johnson's room at the time the prisoner came to me on the Monday, and Mrs. Johnson brought it into my room and gave it to the prisoner my presence—the prisoner said "Come, Polly," and she dressed it—the dress the child was wearing was taken off and a white one put on—the prisoner was wearing a black dress and a black hat, and carried a basket and a small paper parcel—it was a very wet night—no one went with her—she said that she was going home, and was going as far as the Town Hall, meaning the Holborn Town Hall, and was going to take a 'bus to King's Cross—I understood that she was going to Huntingdon but that was all she said—she left my house about 7 o'clock, the child being then quite well—before she left she gave me a half-crown—I did not see the child again till after it had been found at Croydon—I then saw it, and it was the same child.

Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. When the prisoner took the child she took off its dark dress and put on a white one; that was the dress the child used to go out in—at the time she put on its best dress she said that she was going for a holiday, and I understood that the prisoner and the child were going for a holiday together—she did not tell me that she was going to Huntington, but she said she was going home, and I knew that she lived at Huntingdon—I have lived at Mr. Whaley's turned four years,—the Prisoner was there before me—she was very highly thought of there—what she said was that she had never had a child, and a doctor could prove it—she appeared to desire the esteem of her master and mistress—she had an umbrella when she left—I have seen the prisoner and the child talking together in an affectionate way; she appeared very found of it.

By the COURT. I did not see the child every day, because my sister lived a long way off, but I did when Mrs. Johnson had it, which was

about a week—she was an intelligent child—I do not know whether she had been taught—she was well-behaved at times, and she seemed to understand everything that was said to her.

By MR. GEOGHEGAN. Mrs. Johnson's house is not five minutes' walk from where the prisoner is a servant.

ELIZABETH M. CARTER (Re-examined.) This (produced) is a copy of the register of the birth of the child. (This certified the birth of a girl named Ellen Saddington at Hertford on 10th July, 1879, daughter of Mary Woods, domestic servant. Registered 29th July, 1879.) These letters C and D are in the prisoner's writing—I received them. (Read: "My dear sister I can't fetch Nellie, so will you kindly send her up on Wednesday afternoon; Mrs. Whaley and Miss Metcalf are at the seaside and I don't no when they are coming back I should riten before but I thought they were coming back yesterday and William's sister-in-law is going to have Nellie untill I can get away from hear. You need not send any of her old things with her, dear Lizee because Mrs. Watkins has lost a little girl so she says her cloths will come in for Nellie, and I shall send you a box off to-morrow Monday so will you ask Jim to call for it tuesday night and I shall send some money in it; so with fondest love to all your affectionate Poley sister." No date or address.) (The other letter was also without date: "My dear sister I could not meet Nellie last night but William's sister did, and for anything I no she got hear safe I have not seen her but I shall to-night as Nellie and I and ted and some of William's friends are going to Southend for a week so if you rite to me before Monday you must address them to Mr. Vernon news agent Lamb's Conduit and William will get it and send it on but I will rite and tell you were we are with love." No signature.) In consequence of that letter I sent the child up.

ELLEN WATSON . I am the wife of Alfred Watson, of 12, South Street, Islington—in the beginning of the year my sister-in-law, the last witness, brought a little child to me—it was at the end of January—I agreed to take care of it for two or three weeks at 4s. a week—I kept it for 21 weeks, and during that time the prisoner called to see it twice—the prisoner did not tell me whose child it was, but she said that she was its aunt, and that the father at Hertford had had it up to that time—she once mentioned it being an expense to her; she said that it was a deal of expense, and she should be glad when she found its father—she told me once that she had found the father, and he had promised to come and fetch the child away—on 29th June the prisoner called and took the child away with her—she said that she was going to take it home to Hertford—I have never seen it since.

Cross-examined. The prisoner always pretended that she was the aunt, and she complained how hard it was that she, in the character of the child's aunt, had to bear all the expense of it.

By the COURT. It was an intelligent child, and rather clever.

HENRY DAUNTON (Policeman G 470). On 16th August I was on duty in Gray's Inn Road about a quarter to 12 at night, and saw a little girl standing on the footway near the Metropolitan Railway Station; that is about 200 yards from the King's Cross Station—the Metropolitan is at the corner of Gray's Inn Road, and the Great Northern is at the corner of the New Road—I spoke to her; she was very cold—she gave an account of herself, such as I could understand—the was the child I afterwards

saw at the Croydon General Hospital on 24th September—she gave me her name, Ellen Woods, and gave me an account, and I took her to the station and afterwards to the workhouse.

CHARLES BENNING . I am the Settlement Officer of the Holborn Union—on 18th August I saw a child in the workhouse and put some questions to her, but I could not understand all she said, because her voice was not very clear—she seemed to understand the questions I put to her—in consequence of her answers to my questions I went to Hertford, and afterwards, on 26th August, I saw Mrs. Carter at Huntingdon, and on 27th August the prisoner came to my office with this letter (produced)—it is a letter which I had written to her. (Read: "Mary Ann Wood,—Your child, Ellen Wood, has been found by the police and brought into the workhouse. You are requested to attend at 9 a.m. and bring this letter with you.— CHARLES BENNING . ") I asked her if she was the person mentioned in the letter—she said "Yes"—I introduced Mr. Hill, the clerk to the Board of Guardians, and the prisoner arranged to find a home for the child and take her away that day—I asked her if she was not surprised at the child not arriving at her house for so long a time, or hearing anything about her—she said that she was, and she had written to her sister, Mrs. Carter, at Huntingdon, about it, but had not received any reply to the letter—the child was taken away the following day, the 28th.

ELIZABETH MARY CARTER (Re-examined by the COURT ). I received no letter from my sister, asking anything about the child after I sent her off.

ZILLAH JOHNSON . I live at 16, Lamb's Conduit Street—I know the prisoner and the child Nelly—the prisoner was employed at a public-house in Limb's Conduit Street—I remember Thursday, 27th August, when the prisoner came in and spoke to me—Mrs. Watson was there—the prisoner did not say anything till Mrs. Button spoke, and then she said to me "Will you take the child for a day or two, or perhaps a week, or perhaps a little longer?"—she told me where the child was; she said that she was then going to fetch her out of the workhouse—I agreed to take the child, and she went away, as I thought to fetch the child on the same day, Thursday—she came back without the child, and said that she had been to the workhouse and that the child was ill in the infirmary, but that they would endeavour to bring it back to the workhouse the same night—she asked me if I would go to the workhouse in Gray's Inn Road next day and get the child, and I said that I would—she said that she would pay me, and she did pay me 4s. before she went to the workhouse—she also paid me a shilling for my trouble, and gave me an envelope to take to the workhouse to show, when I got the child—the 4s. was to keep the child for a week—on Friday, the 28th, I got the child at the workhouse, and brought it away and took it to my house, and it stayed with me till Monday, 7th September—I wrote to her on a Saturday, I do not know whether it was the 5th September; no, I have made a mistake, it was on a Thursday I wrote to her—I found the child a trouble, and I wrote to the prisoner and got this answer (produced) from her. (MRS. CARTER here stated that this letter was in the prisoner's writing.) I got that in answer to my letter. (Read: "To Mrs. Johnson, 16, Lamb's Conduit Street. 63, Lamb's Conduit Street. Please Mrs. Johnson as you cannot have Ellen after to-day will you give her up to Mrs. Watson. I saw Mrs. Watson last

night and she promises to have her till Monday. I will come that morning if I can possibly get out, but I am afraid I cannot, but if not I shall be there to fetch Ellen on Monday. MARY WOOD. ") I believe I received that letter on a Saturday morning—I read it and spoke to Mrs. Watson, who lives in the same house, on the floor above me—I then gave her up the child, and on Monday, 7th September, about 7 o'clock, I saw the child in my room—Mrs. Watson was not there, but I afterwards saw her and the prisoner—the prisoner dressed the child and took it away with her—I afterwards saw the child after she had been found at Croydon—she was the same child.

MARGARET METCALFE . I live at the Sun public-house, 63, Lamb's Conduit Street, and am the sister-in-law of Mr. Whaley, the proprietor—the prisoner was there in service—on Monday the 7th Sept. I remember the prisoner asking me if I was going out in the evening—I said "No"—alter tea, about 6 o'clock, she told me that she was going out, and should he home late; and when I went to bed at half-past 10 o'clock she had not come home—she was out all night—I saw her at 20 minutes to 8 o'clock next morning, and said to her "You have put us out a good deal by being out all night"—she told me that she had missed the train, and it was too late to telegraph—she was dressed in a black dress, a black jacket, and a black hat.

THOMAS WHALEY . The prisoner was in my service—she received 15l. a year wages—she was exceedingly well-behaved, and we had every confidence in her.

Cross-examined. I received a good character with her, and I think you possess a letter—when this matter occurred, her former employer communicated with me—she lived with us twice, it was seven years altogether—she gave us satisfaction, and we had every confidence in her.

By MR. POLAND. I did not know that she had had a child.

WILLIAM BISHOP . I am barman at the Sun, Lamb's Conduit Street—the prisoner was a servant there—on Monday, 7th September, about 7.30 in the evening, I saw her go out, and on the following morning, about 7.40, I saw her come home—she went to the private part of the house—she was dressed in a black dress, and had an umbrella with her—she went upstairs towards her room—her's is the top bedroom in front, at the top of the house—I noticed nothing about her.

Cross-examined. She walked very quick through the bar, and went up stairs.

ELLEN WOODS . I do not know how old I am—I have been to school; it was at Hatfield; I was there a long while—I cannot read at all; I learn to write—I went to school every morning—I was living with my big sister then; her name is Annie—I went to school by myself—I remember my aunt sending me up to London on a Monday by a railway train—Miss Hale went with me—I do not know whether any one met us at the station in London when we got there—Miss Hale lives at Old Oak Yard—I went up in the same carriage with her—I do not know what we did when we got to the station; nobody spoke to us—some one met me and took care of me; it was a woman, but I do not know who she was; I have not seen her again since—I do not know where I was taken that night or where I slept—I did not see a policeman there—I remember my mother, the prisoner, fetching me away from Mrs. Watson's—I do not know where she took me to, but we went to a railway-station, and went

into a train, and afterwards got out of it—I was dressed, with my hat and clothes on—nobody did anything to my hat and clothes; I kept them on, and I kept my boots on too—nothing hurt me on the night I was taken by the train—my throat did not hurt me at any time—I went to sleep, but I do not know where I was when I went to sleep—I was not in a house or in a field.

Cross-examined. I recollect Mamma taking me up and carrying me with my head here—I fell asleep in her lap; she was nursing me, and when I came to myself again she was not there—I was not bleeding before she took me up and nursed me—I remember nothing happening to me on that night.

BETSY BARBER . I am the wife of Isaac Barber, of Beulah Terrace, Clifton Road, Croydon—on Tuesday morning, 8th September, at 7 o'clock, I was getting up, and looked out at my window and saw a child lying on the grass in a field at the back of the house—I could not see its face at first—I called a neighbour, a lodger of mine, and we went into the field, and there saw this little child lying on the grass on her side—I saw something fastened round her neck; it was a white diaper; it was tied round—the bottom part of the child had clothing on, but not the upper part—she had stockings and a petticoat and drawers, but she had no frock, shoes, or hat—I got a blanket and wrapped her in it, and carried her into the house and put her on a sofa—I sent for the police and a doctor; that was Dr. Fleming—her neck was bleeding, and it had a diaper applied to it—I saw that the child's throat had been cut.

Cross-examined. I live in a terrace, and the backs of the houses overlook this field—there is a right of way across the field to Croydon, and people are continually using it—there are other houses on the other side—it would not be straining to describe the field as an open public place—there is a brickfield opposite, where people work—the child was about 50 yards from the back of my house, and nearer my house than the middle of the field.

By the COURT. A great many people pass there after 8 o'clock at night—there are two footpaths across the field.

By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I went across myself that night about a quarter to 12—a great many people pass there.

FRANK HARMAN . I live at Nursery Road, Thornton Heath—on 8th September I was in a field at South Norwood, near Clifton Road, between 10 and 11 in the morning, and found a piece of sacking lying on the ground, crumpled up and saturated, and pointed out the spot where I found it, to Butters.

THOMAS BARNES (Police Inspector.) On Wednesday, September 9th, in consequence of what I heard, I went to the Sun public-house in Lamb's Conduit Street, about a quarter to 4 in the afternoon—the prisoner was there at work—Mr. Whaley called her into the sitting-room, and I said to her "I am an inspector of police; a child giving the name of Wood has been found in a field at South Norwood last night, with her throat eat; she is your daughter; I am going to take you in custody for attempting to murder her by cutting her throat"—she said "I have a child, and she is at Horncastle, and she is there now; I have nothing more to say"—Mr. Whaley took me upstairs and showed me the prisoner's bedroom—the prisoner went up with us—I saw there in a wash-hand basin the body, the upper part of a woman's black dress, soaking in water—I saw that the water was discoloured; it was the colour

of port wine or blood—Beall, a police officer, took possession of it—I took some of the red liquid out of the basin, and put it into a clean bottle, which I gave to Dr. Mathie—I saw that the left side of the dress body was stained at the upper part—I took the prisoner to Croydon, and she was there charged with this offence in the ordinary way at the police-station, and said nothing.

WILLIAM BEALL (Police Sergeant). I went to Mr. Whaley's public-house and searched a room, and took possession of the dress and the bottle of discoloured water and handed them to Barnes—I received from Mrs. Islip a pair of drawers, a chemise, and a pair of socks, which I handed to Dr. Mathie.

ELIZA ISLIP . I am female searcher at Croydon Police-station—on Wednesday, September 9th, about 6 p.m., I saw the prisoner, and examined her clothes in a private room—she helped to undress herself—there was a large stain of blood on her drawers on the left hip, about the size of a good-sized dinner plate, and a stain of what appeared to be blood, on her chemise in the same place, and another stain on the left arm just under the arm-pit; that was a large spot—there was also a small stain on her stays, just over the left hip; the stains were dry—I asked here whether she had been unwell—she said "No"—she was not wearing any diaper—I saw her figure when she was undressed, and in my opinion she is pregnant.

ARTHUR MATHIE . I am a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons and a Licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians, and house-surgeon to the Croydon General Hospital—on the morning of 8th September Butters brought a female child to the hospital; the child which has been here to-day—I examined her—she had a large cut extending across her throat, over four inches and a half long—it extended along the front of the throat, and the windpipe was open—the wound was about three-quarters of an inch deep in the deepest part—in my opinion it was produced by a cutting instrument—it was jagged at one part—I have given my evidence that the instrument was not very sharp, but that it was a cutting instrument—the child appeared to have lost much blood, and her life was in danger for a week or 10 days—I received from the police a piece of sacking—that was later than the 8th of September—there was blood on the sacking—I received a black dress and a black hat and a black skirt and other clothes, a chemise and a pair of drawers—I found blood on all of them—on the body of the dress, in the region of the left breast and arm-pit, I found blood, but in the front it was partly soaked out, but there was a fairly large spot of blood—I do not think the stains on the under linen could be, from their position, produced by natural causes—the stains on the hat were under the rim.

ARTHUR MORGAN . I am surgeon to the House of Detention—the prisoner is about eight months gone in pregnancy, and under those circumstances I should not expect any**—it is not usual; it occurs in some cases up to the time of confinement, but it is quite exceptional.

THOMAS BARNES (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN ). I do not know the exact spot where the child was found—I have been in the field—I cannot tell you how far the sacking was found from where the child was found.

FRANK HARMAN (Re-examined). I found the sacking about 60 yards from the spot where the child was found.

GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of her previous good character, and the trials to which she had been subject.Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1018
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

Related Material

1018. THOMAS CARLISLE, Feloniously killing and slaying William Bult; he was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.



and HODGSON Defended.

HARRY HOWARD . I am a labourer, and live at St. Olave's Chambers, southwark—on the 3rd August I was at Croydon Races, and after the races I was walking to the town—there were a good many vehicles coming along the road—I saw the deceased man on a cab, going in the opposite direction to me, that is, from Croydon towards the race course—it was about 4 o'clock—the deceased held up his hand and halloaed out to a cab to halt—I saw the prisoner draw his cab up, but the cabs were coming very quick behind his, and he ran into the deceased—he was going at the rate of about 12 or 13 miles an hour just before that; it was a sharp trot—when the deceased held up his hand, the prisoner tried to stop his horse, but the cab behind would have run into him if he had stopped—the effect of his going on was that the fore-wheel of his cab caught the fore-wheel of the deceased's cab, and the deceased was thrown off on his shoulder on the footway, and the cab fell on him immediately afterwards—I ran to his assistance, but Mr. Wick was there before me; the man was dead then—I have been used to horses for about five years, I drove for Mr. Clarke, of Kennington—in my opinion the prisoner could not have got out of the way; I do not think he could.

By the COURT. The deceased's cab was on its right side—he was outside the row of cabs which was going in an opposite direction, going from Croydon (Pointing to a plan)—here is Croydon, and the prisoner's cab was on his left, that was his proper side—the deceased was also on his proper side—the prisoner was in the centre of the road; he was not on the near side, because there were two or three rows of cabs there moving in a continual stream—he did not pull up and stop; because there were a lot of cabs coming behind him very fast—just before he tried to pass through he touched his horse under the flank—he could not have stopped farther back, because he was close on to the cab when the deceased shouted—this was just before 5 o'clock; there was a good light—the deceased was coming at a walking pace, and on his right side.

Cross-examined by MR. BROMLEY. When I saw the deceased's cab I was about 35 yards in front of him, coming towards it on the race course side—I saw the deceased hold up his hand; at that time there were not one or two cabs before him, there was nothing before him; I am positive of that—I can hardly say what the width of the road is, I did not take that notice—the deceased's cab was coming the same way as the defendant's cab—they were all on the left-hand side of the way, going towards Croydon—there is a tramway in the centre of the road, and some were in the centre of the tramway—I did not notice a tram car coming along, at the time I saw the deceased; the whole thing was done in a very short time—it was not so much as two or three minutes from the time it commenced to the time the deceased was killed, and as soon as the collision took place the deceased was thrown off the box of his cab;

the prisoner was also thrown off the box of his cab; they were both thrown off—I had not time to see what the space was between the deceased's cab and the other cabs which were standing by the tramway but it was about the width of a four-wheeler—the cab was upset by the collision, and the horses were struggling and kicking together, and threw the cab on the deceased.

Re examined. There was nothing in front of the prisoner's cab when the collision took place; he was passing a number of cabs to the left of it—it did not seem to me that the prisoner could have done anything which he did not do; I should have tried to get through if I had been in his place.

By MR. BROMLEY. Supposing the deceased had not held up his hand, and the prisoner had not stopped, three or four cabs would have run into his, and a serious smash would have taken place.

The COURT considered that there was an error of judgment or an accident, and directed a verdict of


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1019
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1019. JAMES FORD (19) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch and chain from the person of William Randolph.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1020
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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1020. HENRY WEST (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Emma Agar, with intent to steal therein.

Upon MR. BURNIE'S opening the case for the prosecution, the RECORDER considered that there was no evidence of felonious intent, and directed the Jury to return a verdict of


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1021
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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1021. GEORGE GOFFIN (23) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of John Partridge, with intent to steal therein.

MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.

The RECORDER considered that there had been no entry into the house, and therefore directed upon technical grounds a verdict of


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1022
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1022. JOHN WHITTAKER (80) PLEADED GUILTY to marrying Rebecca Woodward during the lifetime of his wife.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1023
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1023. EUGENE DESCHAMPS (38) , Unlawfully exposing his person in view of a private house and in sight of a public highway.

MR. BURNIE Prosecuted; MESSRS. BESLEY and RAVEN Defended.

The prisoner received a good character.


19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1024
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1024. HAROLD GALBRAMDSEN (19) , Indecently assaulting Mary Ann Callaghan.



Before Mr. Common Sergeant.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1025
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

1025. GEORGE KIRBY and ROLAND FAIRBROTHER, Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted.

GEORGE ALBERT BRAZIER . I was serving in the bar of the Black

Horse, Brixton Road, on 3rd October, just on 7 o'clock—I saw the two prisoners there—I won't be quite sure about the elder one—there was a woman with them—Fairbrother called for some stout, and put down a shilling—I bent it in the tester, and said to the manager in the prisoners' hearing, "This shilling is bad"—he then spoke to the prisoners.

FREDERICK WILLIAM FIELDER . I am manager of the Black Horse, Brixton Road—on 3rd October, about 7 o'clock, I saw the prisoners served with some liquor, which came to 4d.—Fairbrother ordered and paid for it—I saw the boy take this coin up and test it and bend it—I saw a mark on it where it had been bent—I said to Fairbrother, "This is a bad one"—he said, "Is it? I did not know it was bad," and tendered a good one—Kirby and a woman were with him—they all drank together.

JOHN THOMAS WATSON . I am manager of the Atlantic Tavern, Brixton—about 9.45 p.m. on 3rd October the two prisoners and a female came in—Kirby called for some liquor, and tendered a shilling—I broke it and found it was bad—I said, "Have you any more?"—he said, "No, my governor gave it to me in my wages"—I gave him in charge.

REGINALD COUNTER (Policeman W 78). I was called to the Atlantic public-house on this night, and saw the prisoners there together—the manager showed me a broken shilling, and said Kirby had tendered it in payment for a pot of beer—I took him in custody—when nearing the station he said, "Fairbrother, my governor, paid me the shilling for my wages, and if he is in the habit of passing counterfeit coin I did not know it"—he followed Kirby to the station—he made no answer to the charge—I made inquiries on the morning of 5th October—Fairbrother was at the police-court—Mr. Fielder identified him, and he was taken in custody and charged with being concerned with Kirby in uttering a counterfeit shilling to Mr. Fielder—he replied, "I have got into a fine old mess"—I found on Kirby 1s. 4 1/2 d. good money—he gave his address, 101, Clapham Park Road—I found from inquiries that he lived there with his father—Fairbrother gave his address, 106, Effra Parade, Brixton—I found from inquiries that he lived there—it is a private house.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This shilling is bad.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Fairbrother says: "I work for my brother, and took about 2l. in silver on Saturday, and did not know we had bad money, and paid this man." Kirby says:"I worked for this man about five years, and he has not given me bad coin yet."

Witnesses for the Defence.

JAMES FAIRBROTHER . I am a lath-render and builder, of 52, Moreland Street, Stockwell—the prisoner is my brother, and is foreman at my yard in Shepherd's Lane, Brixton—he sells goods retail there, and takes money from day to day when I am away—he is paid every Saturday, sometimes 2l., sometimes 30s. or 35s.—he has worked for me six years, and I have never known him to keep a penny—I have bailed him—Kirby works under him, and drives a horse and cart.

Cross-examined. My brother had been working for me the whole week, and on this Saturday up to 5 or 6 o'clock, and he would pay himself and Kirby out of the money he received, which would be 2l. for himself and 15s. for Kirby—he would have accounted to me on the Monday for that, but he was arrested and had not sufficient time—he took more than 2l. on Saturday.

Kirby's Defence. I had the shilling paid to me in my week's wages, and I went to the public-house and put it on the counter, and they broke it.

Fairbrother's Defence. When I gave him his money at the Black Horse I was not aware it was bad. He gave it me back and said, "That is a duffer," and I gave him another. If that is the shilling, I do not know how I got it.


The COMMON SERJEANT stated that both prisoners left the Court without a stain on their character.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1026
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

1026. PATRICK DAVIS (21) PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after a conviction at this Court of a like offence in July, 1883.— Two Years' Hard Labour.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1027
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

1027. HENRY HORTY (18) to stealing 88 orders for the payment of money, the property of H. M. Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1028
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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1028. KATE PETTIT (28) to maliciously wounding Louisa Reed.— Six Weeks' Imprisonment without Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1029
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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1029. NORMAN WHITEHOUSE (33) , Feloniously wounding Rose Anna Whitman, with intent to do her some grievous bodily harm.

MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.

THOMAS RUSBRIDGE (Policeman V 207). On Saturday evening, 1st August, I was on duty on Thames side, Kingston, and from information I received I went to Old Bridge Street, where I saw outside the Black Lion the prosecutrix sitting on a chair bleeding from a wound on the left side of her neck—from what she said to me I went to Seething's lodging-house, where I saw the prisoner sitting in the kitchen—I told him I should charge him with feloniously cutting and wounding his wife, and that she said he had done it—he said, "I will go to the station with you, Sir; I have done it; she aggravated me to do it; I have had a lot of trouble with that woman lately"—he went very quietly to the station—the prosecutrix was removed to the station, and the doctor attended her and ordered her removal to the infirmary—the prisoner was brought up on the Monday, and remanded till the Wednesday week.

ROSE ANNA WHITMAN . I have been living with the prisoner as his wife for three years last April—on Saturday, 1st August, about 2 p.m., I had some words with the prisoner, who was going to sell my jacket—he was in the street, and I forbade his selling it and said, "If you sell it I will go to the police-station and demand it back again"—I kept out of his way until the evening, when I was against the Barleymow public-house—I went outside the Black Lion to speak to another woman, when the prisoner came up to me and walked away against the Black Lion door—the two houses are close to each other, one being a beershop and the other a public-house—he stood by the side of me, and did not speak to me, but plunged a penknife into my neck—I did not see where he got it from, and I have not seen it here—it felt like a knife in my neck, it was so quick—he would not have done it if he had not been in drink—he went straight into the lodging-house—I was then taken to the police-station, and afterwards to the infirmary, where I remained till the Saturday, as the hearing was on the 12th—I am quite well now; there is a small scar—we had not been drinking together that day—he got

with two or three people that I did not like—I do charing when I am able.

THOMAS RUSBRIDGE (Re-examined). They had both been drinking—he was not so drunk that he did not know what he was doing—he walked to the station all right—he did not stagger, and was very quiet.

DANIEL BIDDELL . I am a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons—I saw the prosecutrix on the night in question, when she was suffering from a wound on the throat on the left side—it was about one and a half inches, to the best of my recollection, below the ear, and about on a level with the angle of the jaw—it was almost horizontal, extending about one inch in length, and not more than half an inch in depth—it was dangerous from its position—I believe it divided the external jugular—of course that is not so important a vessel as the internal jugular—if the knife had penetrated half an inch farther it would have wounded the main vessels, namely, the internal jugular vein and the carotid artery.

By the COURT. There was hemorrhage, and it had been aggravated by the bystanders applying a lot of cloths, which I at once removed—I believe the wound to have been inflicted by a penknife—it was a puncture at the beginning—I believe it was dug in, and then worked its way out—I should say he turned the knife round in the wound—there was not a very considerable amount of force used, because it was not more than half an inch at the greatest depth—I believe she had imbibed a certain portion of drink; I could not say for certain—of course the loss of blood would cause excitement; she lost a considerable quantity, I am sure—she is perfectly out of danger now—I examined her body, and found two considerable bruises, one on the shoulder, and the other near the hip—I believe them to be recent, because I saw the woman a few days subsequently, and they had developed considerably.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am guilty. I am very sorry."

Prisoner's Defence. I am sorry. I did not know what I was doing. I was drinking from six in the morning till the time it was done, and I had been drinking all the week.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.

ROSE ANNA WHITMAN (Re-examined by the COURT ). The bruises were done the night before by his fist—I fell down.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the prosecutrix.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Justice Day.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1030
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1030. WILLIAM MAHONEY (42), Setting fire to a mattress in the dwelling-house of Richard Higgins, one Thomas Mahoney being therein, and with intent to set fire to the said dowelling-house.

MR. POYNTER Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.

RICHARD HIGGINS . I am a biscuit baker, of 18, Bell Court, Bermondsey, and am the landlord of that house—the prisoner occupied the first-floor front—on Friday night, 11th September, between 9 and 10, I was standing at my front door—my wife and children were in bed on the floor below—the prisoner's wife was out, and all the children except one, a little boy—I saw the prisoner come downstairs—he passed me without saying anything—the little boy came down and called to his little brother in the court—I saw the reflection of a fire in the prisoner's room—I went up and tried to quench it—the mattress was alight—I pulled it off

and quenched it as much as I could—I went for a pail of water to put it out as the firemen came—the prisoner came back at 12.30, and insisted on coining in—I said "You won t come in to-night," and I went out and called a policeman, and gave him in custody—he did not seem drunk—he said he did not do it wilfully, but that he had a candle and was looking for some money he had put away—he came to lodge there on 7th September—when I went into the room I found a candle on the mantelpiece lighted, and half a box of matches by the side of it—there was no one in the room when I went up.

Cross-examined. I live on the premises, but am very seldom there, because of my work—he did not know me as Mr. Higgins, but he knew I was the landlord, because he lived at No. 16 before—when I went up I could hardly see for the smoke—I am used to go amongst smoke from the work in my own place—I did not see that any water had been thrown over the mattress, it was in flames—it was less than a minute after I saw the prisoner that I went upstairs—there was no basin or jug there; they had not got any—the burn in the mattress was two or three feet.

Re-examined. The prisoner took the room unfurnished, and brought his own things—the people washed themselves downstairs—there was no water in the room; I saw no sign of water on the floor.

ANN STEERS . I am single, and live at 3, Bell Court, facing the prisoner's window, and work at a jam factory—I was at Bell Court with my sister on the evening of 11th September—my sister called my attention to the prisoner's window, and I saw a flare in his room—I saw him close against the bed with a candle in his hand—the blind was down, but it does not quite meet the window—I did not see what he did with the candle—the flare went down when he was in the room and then came up again—he only left the room once.

Cross-examined. I could see clearly into the room in spite of the smoke—I saw the prisoner pass Mr. Higgins at the door, but could not see in what state the fire was then—I could see a good deal of flaring, but cannot tell exactly the state of the fire when he left the room.

ANGELINA STEERS . I am single, and the sister of the last witness—I was in the room on this night and called her attention to the opposite window, and saw the prisoner go towards his bed with a candle—a flare came up while he was in the room, and went down, and then went up again, and he left the room—I do not know whether he tried to put it out.

HENRY WEIGHT (Metropolitan Five Brigade). At 10.19 on Friday, 11th September, I was called and went to this house with a manual engine—I found the bed and bedding slightly damaged by fire; it was all out them—the wall and wainscot on the side of the room were charred—I did not see the mattress.

GEORGE PAWSEY (Policeman M 213). I was on duty and assisted in taking the fire-escape to Bell Court—at about 12.45 the same night Higgins followed the prisoner up Bermondsey Street and gave him in custody for setting fire to a mattress at 18, Bell Court—the prisoner said "It is a mistake"—I took him to the station and he was afterwards charged—1s. 6 1/2d. was found on him—he was sober, I should say; he seemed a little excited.

Cross-examined. I did not search for any money in the mattress. INSPECTOR BUSTING. I was on duty when the prisoner was brought to

the station—a little boy was also there, and I asked him, in the prisoner's presence, whether he knew anything about the fire—he said "Yes"—I asked how it came on fire, and he said "Daddy did it with a match"—I said "What did he do then?"—he said "He went out of the room, and I followed him"—I said to the prisoner "You hear what the child has said;" he made no answer—I afterwards went to the room and examined it—the bed fits into a recess, lengthways, and in the farther corner the wall was very much charred, and the foot of the bed—the window-blind did not fit within about six inches on each side, and from the window opposite I could see plainly into the room—I found about a foot of the mattress burnt entirely away, and another portion of it charred.

Cross-examined. I did not examine it to see if there was any money there.

By the COURT. About 5s. would pay for the furniture in the room—there were no materials for washing there—there was an old pail with the bottom half out—there were some signs of water—that was done by Higgins to put out the fire.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was only looking for a few halfpence, 2s. 6d. I put there to get myself a jacket. The mattress was open, and all the straw caught. I went and got half a pail of water which was in the room, and threw over it; I thought it was out I went down to see where my wife was."

RICHARD HIGGINS (Re-examined). I have not found any money in the mattress.


NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, October 23rd and 24th, 1885, and

~OLD COURT.—Monday, October 26th, 1885, and nine following days.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

19th October 1885
Reference Numbert18851019-1031
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown

Related Material

1031. REBECCA JARRETT, WILLIAM THOMAS STEAD, SAMPSON JACQUES, WILLTAM BRAMWELL BOOTH , and ELIZABETH COMBE, Unlawfully taking Eliza Armstrong, aged 13, out of the possession and against the will of her father. Other Counts charging the taking from the possession of the mother.

THE ATTORNEY-GENERAL (SIR RICHARD WEBSTER ), MR. POLAND, and MR. R. S. WRIGHT conducted the Prosecution; MR. CHARLES RUSSELL, Q.C., and MR. CHARLES MATHEWS appeared for Jarrett; MR. WADDY, Q.C., MR. HORNE PAYNE, and MR. R. F. COLAM for Booth; MR. SUTHERST for Combe, and MR. H. MATTHEWS, Q.C., and MR. F. H. LEWIS for Jacques; Stead defended himself.

ELIZA ARMSTRONG . I was 13 years old last April—up to the beginning of June last I was living with my father, Charles, and mother, Elizabeth Armstrong, at 32, Charles Street, Lisson Grove—my eldest sister Elizabeth is 17; she was out at service—I have three little brothers, aged 11, 7, and 4—my father is a chimney-sweep—we had all been living at the same address for many years—I used to nurse and look after the youngest child, a baby—I attended at the Board school, and can read and write—I know Mrs. Broughton, who lived with her husband at No. 37 in the same street—on the 2nd June a little girl told me some one wanted a servant,

and I went to Mrs. Broughton's house—Mrs. Broughton and the prisoner Jarrett, whom I had not seen before, were there—Mrs. Broughton asked me whether my mother would let me go out to service—I said I would go and ask my mother—I did so; my mother came up and went with me to Mrs. Broughton's—Jarrett was still there—she asked my mother if she would let me go to service—mother asked her whereabouts she lived—I understood her to say Wimbledon—mother asked why she could not get another girl where she lived—Jarrett said she could do so, but she thought a poor girl would like to go to a home where she lived—I don't know if she said home or service—mother asked her what to do—she said to scrub and to clean oilcloth, because she could not kneel, and she would do the dusting and the other part of the work—I afterwards saw she was lame—my mother said "No," and went away—Jarrett said she had a French girl as a servant, who wanted to go home to her mother, and she thought she would let her go—I went home with my mother, leaving Mrs. Broughton and Jarrett together—I did not see them again that day—the next day was the Derby Day—I saw my mother with Mrs. Broughton about 11 on the morning of Wednesday (Derby Day), 3rd June—my mother told me something when she came back which Mrs. Broughton had said to her, and I went with her to Mrs. Broughton's—Mrs. Jarrett was there—she asked mother if I had any nice clothes to go in—mother said I had not; Jarrett said she would buy me some, because her husband was a particular man—Jarrett told me to go home, wash myself, and get myself all ready, and I was to go along with her to buy some clothes—I went home, my mother went with me—afterwards wards I came back to Mrs. Broughton's—Mrs. Jarrett was there, and put on her things, and went with me to the boot-shop at the corner of Charles Street—up to that time I had not heard what Jarrett's name was—while going to the boot-shop she said I should like going into her service very much—she then took me into several shops, and bought various articles of clothing for me—she paid for them and brought them with her—we went back to Mrs. Broughton's, where I put on my new clothes—nothing further was said by Jarrett, nothing was said about what my wages were to be—I went home for about an hour, and had dinner there—I had left Mrs. Jarrett trimming my new hat at Mrs. Broughton's—the other clothes I had got on—when I went home to dinner I saw my mother—I don't remember whether I saw my father—afterwards I went back to Mrs. Broughton's, at about 2 o'clock in the afternoon—my mother did not go with me—I saw Jarrett in the room, and she said she was going to start at 3 o'clock—I stayed there till 3—I had seen my mother at the door, and kissed her before I came away—my mother said she would see me off—at 3 o'clock she was to meet me in Mrs. Broughton's room—I waited at Mrs. Broughton's about an hour, till 3 o'clock, when Mrs. Jarrett said it was time to go—I was then all dressed ready to start, with the hat on which Jarrett had trimmed—Jarrett, Mrs. Broughton, and I went out together—nothing was said about mother not having come back—when we started Mrs. Broughton and Jarrett went into a public-house—I waited outside—Jarrett and I got into an omnibus at the corner of Chapel Street—my mother told me she was going somewhere—I had said nothing about that to Jarrett—I said good-bye to Mrs. Broughton—we got out of the omnibus past the Marble Arch, and went to a house I know now as 16, Albany Street—that was a private

house—I pointed it out to the inspector—Jarrett and I went into a sitting-room—there was a young lady there who I had never seen before—afterwards Mr. Stead came in—I did not know his name at the time, nor the name of the young lady—he asked me if I went to school—I paid "Yes"—he asked what school—I said "The Board School"—he asked if I went to Sunday school—I replied "Yes, to Harrow Road Sunday School at 9 in the morning and in the afternoon, and to the Richmond Street Sunday School on Sunday nights"—I went three times on Sundays—I had been attending the schools for four years, and I told him so—he asked whether I went to any of the treats there—I said "Yes, once to Epping Forrest and twice to Richmond"—he asked me if I wrote any grammar at the schools—I said "Yes"—he did not ask me any more—Mrs. Jarrett asked me to go into the other room—the young lady came with me—we all had tea together before I went out of the room—the conversation about the schools took place before tea—after tea Mrs. Jarrett took me into the next room—Mr. Stead went out then—Jarrett took me out and bought me some underclothing—I have pointed out all the shops to the inspector—I returned with her to Albany Street—when Jarrett, the young lady, and I were alone at Albany Street, Jarrett told me to put the things on, and I did so—I wrapped the old clothes up in a parcel—Mrs. Jarrett was combing my hair, and said, "Shall I cut you a Piccadilly fringe?"—I said my mother would not allow it—she did not cut it after I said that—after that, when we were ready to go out, Mrs. Jarrett and the young lady changed hats—I left the house with Mrs. Jarrett—the young lady came out with us—there was a Hansom's cab at the door, and I and Mrs. Jarrett got into it—the young lady said she was going to some place—the cab drove us to a house in Milton Street, Dorset Square—I think it was about 6 o'clock we started from Albany Street—the cab stopped at the house; Jarrett got out, paid the driver, and went into No. 3—I saw a man standing outside; I do not know who he was—it was a private house—Jarrett asked the servant who opened the door for Madame—I went into a room and saw Madame Mourey—she was French, because she could only speak English a little—the man I had seen outside was a stout man; he was French—Jarrett and Madame Mourey spoke together, I did not hear what they said—Madame Mourey took me into a little room—she pulled up my clothes; I was standing up; she put her hands in my private parts, touching the flesh; I tried to get away, and then she put her hands down—she had not said anything to me before doing this—I went to the next room, the door of which was open, where Jarrett was—Madame came into the room as well—I said to Jarrett, "She is a dirty woman"—Jarrett made no reply—she went out of the room with Madame, leaving me in the room for half an hour—they came back into the room together—Jarrett took me away from the house—I was still carrying the parcel of old things I had brought from Albany Street—there was a four-wheeled cab waiting outside the house—I saw nobody outside the house at all—Jarrett spoke to the cabman, and Jarrett and I got in, and were driven to Poland Street, Oxford Street—we stopped opposite a ham and beef shop—Jarrett got change, and paid the cabman—Jarrett and I walked a little way towards Oxford Street—I saw two men—we went into a house in Poland Street next door to the ham and beef shop—I pointed out the door to the inspector. (This was the upper

part of the ham and beef shop). The two men had gone into that house—Jarrett and I went upstairs into a front bedroom—Mr. Jacques was one of the two men who were outside and who went in—I did not see who the other was then—I have no doubt of Jaques—I saw him again when I returned from France; I knew him then—when I got into the bedroom the men came into the room—the men had something to drink in the next room—Jarrett also had something to drink in the same room as I was; the drink was something brown—she asked me if I would go to bed—I said I did not want to go to bed yet—Jarrett gave me a picture book, and said we would stay there that night, because she lived in a place a long way off, and it would take a very long time to get there—she did not say where we were to go in the morning—Jarrett asked me again to go to bed, and I did so; I undressed and got into bed—Jarrett did not undress, she said she was waiting up for the young lady to come home—afterwards Jarrett lay down outside the bed with her clothes on by my side—she put a handkerchief up to my note; I threw it away—she put it again to my nose, and said, "Give a good sniff up"—I said I would not have it, and threw it away—Jarrett said it was scent; it had a nasty smell—I was still awake afterwards—the door opened and some one came in—I could tell by the sound, I could not see because the curtains were round the bed—there was a lamp in the room—when the door opened Jarrett was off the bed and outside the curtains—she said, "She is all right," or something like that—I heard a man's voice, but I did not hear what was said—I screamed out, "There is a man in the room"—the man went away when I screamed out, and shut the door after him—Jarrett said "What is the matter?"—I said "There is a man in the room"—Jarrett pulled up the curtains and said "There is no man in the room"—I said "Because he is gone out"—I saw there was no one in the room when the curtains were pulled up by Jarrett—Jarrett left the room and returned in two or three minutes, saying "Get up and dress, there are too many men in this house"—that was about 1 o'clock—we had been in the house an hour—I did not see a clock or anything—I got up and dressed—she put her hat and jacket on, went out of the room and downstairs—I saw nothing of the two men, Jacques and the other—we got into a cab which was waiting outside the house, and a man who I do not know got on the box seat—the cab drove to some house, where the man got off the box and went in—Jarrett and I waited at the door inside the cab for an hour—after that the man came out and said to Jarrett "You can sleep here to-night"—Jarrett said "All right"—we got out of the cab and went into the house—before I was last examined at Bow Street I went to this house, which is No. 27, Nottingham Place—I know it is the same house; it is a nicely furnished private house—Jarrett and I went into a bedroom, undressed, and went to bed—she slept on a sofa; I on the bed—Jarrett said nothing to me about our stopping there that night—I went to sleep—I go up the next morning—I cannot say whether any one came into the room; no one came in while I was awake—next morning I got up to breakfast—while at breakfast Mrs. Combe, whom I then saw for the first time, and the young lady who had changed hats with Jarrett at Albany Street, came—Mrs. Combe asked me if I should like to go to a place along with her—I said "No"—Jarrett and Mrs. Combe went out of the room together, leaving me there—I was sitting crying when Jarrett and Mrs. Combe

returned—afterwards the young lady and Mr. Stead came in—Jarrett asked the young lady to go and buy me a cloak—she did so; meanwhile Mrs. Combe said she had a lot of little children and two song, one was dead and one was in the Salvation "Army"—Mr. Stead said "The cab is all ready; let us go down now"—I got into the cab with Jarrett, Mrs. Combe, and Mr. Stead—the young lady had not come back yet with the cloak—we went in the cab to some big railway station; I forget the name of it—I have shown the constable the station—we got to the station about 9 in the morning—the young lady was at the station with the cloak, and I put it on—I have it on now—at that time I had not been told where they were going to take me—Jarrett, Mrs. Combe, and I travelled in the train; Mr. Stead and the young lady seeing us off—we crossed the Channel and went to Paris—we got there about 6 in the evening—Jarrett or Mrs. Combe did not say where they were taking me—we went to the headquarters of the Salvation "Army" in Paris—I was employed in selling the War Cry in the streets of Paris—on June 5th Jarrett said she was going home to get her place ready for me to go there; that she would sleep there that night, and go to-morrow morning, and that Mrs. Combe would take me to a shop and buy me some more clothes—only she and me were together when she said this—Jarrett left on the afternoon of Saturday, the 6th, about 3 o'clock, and she told me I could write a letter to her if I wanted to—she told me she had given the "Captain" her address at the headquarters of the Salvation "Army" in Paris—I knew Miss Booth, the "Marshal," and Miss Green, the cook—two or three days after I was in Paris I wrote to my mother—I put no address on it; I didn't know what to put—Mrs. Combe wrote a letter for me—she was there with me a week—the letter I wrote I addressed to my mother, 32, Charles Street, Lisson Grove, Marylebone, and gave it o the "Captain," a young lady, to post—I put no stamp on it—I did not get any answer—I also wrote to Mrs. Jarrett, whose name I heard as Mrs. Sullivan when at Paris—I did not know her name at all till I got to Paris—the letter produced is the one I wrote to Jarrett, dated June 10th: "My dear Mrs. Sullivan,—I write these few lines to you hoping you are quite well. I am very happy. The 'Captain' is very good to me. Mrs. Combe is going away for a little time. She is gone about her business. She is soon coming back again. I hope you are going on all right. I have asked the Lord to bless you every night, and I hope you are soon coming to see me. I am getting on all right. I has plenty to eat an drink, and if you would write me a little letter it would be very pleasant to have one from you; and I hope I shall be able to go and see my mother soon and my little brothers and sisters. The 'Captain' is going away for two months, and I am going to be a good girl while she is gone. Well, that is all I got to say at present. Good-bye, and God bless you for my sake. As I was lying in my bed, some little thoughts came in my head; I thought of one, I thought of two, but first of all I thought of you. I received this answer to that letter: "Hope Cottage, Highcliff, Winchester. My dear Child,—I received your beautiful letter, which I had been longing to get from you, but I forget the address, and Mrs. Combe promised to write to me about you, so I was expecting to hear from you. I am not coming to see you, but you are coming to me. A lady has got to bring you straight to me. You are to come to my little cottage, but you are to see your mother and father; but you are God's child, and I hope that you are trying to be

good to Jesus, and then you can go home and tell your mother and father what He has done for you. I pray for you every night and morning, my dear child. I must say good-bye, my dear child, till I see you. I hope it will be next week or the week after, but the Captain will tell you. I am your true friend, MRS. SULLIVAN." Mrs. Combe remained in Paris about a week, and then left saying she would not be long, and was going on business for two or three days—she said nothing about writing before she left—I remained in Paris about four weeks—then Mrs. Combe's son, "Lieutenant" Combe, took me away—he is a Frenchman, but spoke English; he is about 25 years of age—we started at 8 p.m.; no one else was with us, and no one saw us off—we travelled all night, and next day arrived at Loriol—he took me to the house of M. and Madame Berard—there were some children there, and an English governess, Miss Fielder—"Lieutenant" Combe stayed there that night, and left next day—I was employed as a servant there—a few days after I arrived I received a letter from "Lieutenant" Combe, who had said he would write to me; the date is 19th July—on 22nd July I wrote this letter to my mother; the English governess addressed the envelope—at the same time I wrote to Madame Combe—both letters were put in one envelope by Madame Berard, addressed to Madame Combe—I did not see this envelope (produced) addressed to my mother—in the letter to my mother there was no address given, in consequence of a letter I received from Madame Combe—I did not get any answer for some time. (The letter from the witness to her mother was then read, stating that she was very happy and had a good place, which was a long way in France, she had good food to eat, and all she wanted. It again ended: "As I was lying in my bed, &c," as ✗b fore.) I afterwards received this letter from my mother, the day before I was going away. (This stated: "Me and your father were so pleased to hear from you, but not so pleased as we should be if we saw your dear face," &c. "And let me know where that woman took you to when you left me to go to service," &c. "And how you came to know those little rhymes you wrote in your letter.") I was then at Plaines de Bec, a little way from Loriol, where M. Berard had a country house—afterwards I went back to Loriol—I wrote another letter to my mother while at Plaines de Bec—Miss Fielder wrote part of it for me and the envelope. (The letter was read; the post-mark was 14th August). I returned to Loriol the day after the letter was written—while I was there two gentlemen came for me; "Captain" Baby of the Salvation "Army" was one of them—Miss Fielder told me to get ready to go—we had some dinner before we left—when I saw the two gentlemen I cried—I went with them by train as far as Arras, and then to Paris—I cried because I did not know what the men were going to do with me at first—I went back to the head quarters of the Salvation "Army," where I saw Miss Booth and Miss Green—Miss Green brought me back to England, where I arrived on Sunday, 23rd August—she was the cook—I was taken to Mr. Stead's house at Wimbledon—he asked me to go into the garden to pick some flowers, and asked whether I liked the place where I went to, and whether I was sick on the water—Mr. Jacques came into the garden and asked if I should like to go to a place, it was better than going to a drunken home—he said he would take me to a gentleman's family near the Bayswater Road—I said "I will see what my mother says"—he asked me whether I should like to go and see my mother—I

said "Yes, very much," and he took me into a room—I slept there, and saw my mother and sister at the house on the Monday—Mrs. Stead suggested that I should be taken to a room where I could be alone with my mother and sister, and I was left alone with them for half an hour—I had a talk with her about where I had been—we had some luncheon—the same evening I, my mother, and my sister were taken to Wimbledon Railway Station, where there were Inspector Borner, Mr. Jacques, and a Mr. Thicknesse—we all went to the office of the Solicitor to the Treasury, where I made a statement, which was taken down by Mr. Pollard—I told him my story.

Cross-examined by MR. RUSSELL. Except what the French lady did in Milton Street, nothing was done to distress or vex me—the handkerchief put to my nose annoyed me, but it had no effect on me—I pushed it away—Madame Combe was very kind to me—I was very happy in my place, and was comfortably clad and fed—I never saw Mrs. Jarrett before a lot of my schoolmates came to me on 2nd June, about 3 p.m., and told me she was looking for a girl—I did not know her name till I got to Paris, nor did my father or mother—I was not told that Jarrett had seen three other little girls at Mrs. Broughton's—my mother told me on the Tuesday that the strange lady had seen Alice West, who was too old; she was 15—she lived in the same house as my father and mother, with Mrs. Woodward—when I came home I understood that the strange lady had also seen a girl named Jane Farrer, who also was too old—she wanted a girl just over 13, and she was 19—I know Lizzie Stephens, but did not know she was going—I was anxious to go out to work—our family, six or seven, lived in one room—my sister was not able to spare anything for my father and mother—times are sometimes rather hard with my father—the strange lady told me when I went to see her that she wanted me to go to service with her—I went back and told my mother, who came across—Mrs. Broughton is not an intimate friend of my mother's—my mother told me that she had put the question to the lady, "Why don't you get a servant in the place where you live?"—I did not hear my mother say that—I heard the strange lady say she had had a French girl—I went out and left my mother and Mrs. Broughton and the strange lady together—I heard my mother say she would not let me go that day—I was annoyed at that, and kept talking to my mother next day, saying I wanted to go—on Wednesday morning, as far as I know, no message came from Mrs. Broughton or the strange lady, and my mother went to Mrs. Broughton's of her own accord—about 11 o'clock she came back and told me I could go—all the conversation about the place and the clothes is what my mother told me on Wednesday—I heard the lady on Wednesday ask my mother whether I had any clothes—all the rest of the conversation was told me by my mother—the lady told me herself that I should have to scrub the oilcloth—the lady asked my mother whether I had any clothes to go in—she replied "No"—the lady said she would buy me some, as her husband was a very particular man—she did buy me a complete rig out of inside and outside clothing—my mother said nothing about what wages I was to get, nor had I any idea—I had been out to service once before in Spring Street—the strange lady did not ask me anything about what work I could do, or what experience I had had, or for any reference to my previous employment, or whether I had been a servant before—my father left to go to work at 8 that morning—he came in at 1 o'clock for

a moment, and then went out again—I heard nothing said by mother to my father either on the Tuesday or Wednesday about my going away—my father said nothing to me about going away—I saw my mother when I went home at dinner time, but my father was not there—he had his meals at home on Tuesday and slept at home, and also his meals on Wednesday—my mother did tell me that she had told my father about my going away—she did not tell me what my father said, or that he was agreeable to my going, but she told me I was to go—I did not think it strange that the lady should buy all these new clothes for me—I knew my mother had not sufficient to pay for them, and I thought it odd—Mrs. Jarrett trimmed my hat for me and put some smart ribbon on it—I kissed my mother at the door about 2.30, and she said she was going to the Board School round the corner to leave the key that my little brothers could get in—I stayed till 3; she did not come, and I went away and never saw her again till I was at Wimbledon—I had not heard of Albany Street at that time—my mother did not say that she had been told by the strange lady that she and I were to sleep at Albany Street that night—I objected to having my hair cut across my forehead, because I thought it was unbecoming and my mother disliked it—Mrs. Jarrett asked me if I wanted a Piccadilly fringe—I forgot that when I was examined before—that makes you look ugly, and I did not like it, and I thought my mother would not like it—I was there on the Tuesday when she said some words about having a French girl—it is correct that on Wednesday, about 12 o'clock, mother went up to Mrs. Broughton's—I saw her, I was against the door with the baby—as far as I know no stranger had come from Mrs. Broughton's—I was present at an interview on the Wednesday—according to what I said at the police-court I was not—I said before the Magistrate "The account I gave in my examination-in-chief, &c., was given to me by my mother; I did not hear it myself; my mother told me all that; she did not tell me to say it here"—that is correct—it is correct that my mother told me about it after she came from Mrs. Broughton's—it was a mistake when I said I came away from the house after seeing Jarrett—at first she told me she was going to take me to Albany Street—that was when my mother left me to tidy myself up—at that time I had not heard I was going—I heard nothing about going to Albany Street—what I stated at the police-court is correct—I there said "When my mother came from Mrs. Broughton's she told my father all about that"—if my mother said she did not mention it to my father, that is not correct—I say now I never heard anything mentioned by my mother to my father, but my mother told me she had mentioned it to my father—I did not see Mrs. Jarrett and Mrs. Broughton go anywhere together—I did not see them go to the public-house—I said the public-house into which Mrs. Jarrett and my mother went was The Sailor—after a day or two in Paris Mrs. Jarrett bid me good-bye—she told me she hoped soon to bring me to a new cottage—she did not tell me where it was—I am sure she did not say it was at Winchester—I did not ask her—she gave me good advice, and told me to be a good child, and so forth—she said she wanted four little presents for four girls she had at home—she said Mrs. Broughton knew all about what she wanted me for—she said Mrs. Broughton did not want her to have me for a servant; she wanted her to have me for something else, and something worse—Jurrett said that in Paris on 5th June; she also said "You are now in the

safe hands of people who will care for you and look after you"—I did not know she meant anything bad by what she said—I said when last examined I did not believe her because Mrs. Broughton seemed a nice woman—I know now it meant something that was not good for me—so far as I know, up to 2nd June my mother had not set eyes on the strange lady, and knew nothing about what her past life and history had been—before I left on the Wednesday, so far as I know, my mother had not got the address to which I was going.

Cross-examined by Stead. On the Tuesday when I came to Mrs. Broughton's I am quite sure no one was there besides she and Jarrett—on the Wednesday Mr. Broughton was there and Farrar; I don't know if Farrer was there on the Tuesday, I did not see her, she was not there—she was there the first thing on the Wednesday when I came—she was there when I came after getting the new clothes; she was there the whole time—I was never at Mrs. Broughton's except when Jane Farrer was there.

Cross-examined by MR. HENRY MATTHEWS. The first time I saw Jacques was outside the ham and beef shop in Poland Street; he said nothing to me that evening—I heard neither him nor the other man with him say anything to Jarrett—when he and the other man were in the room with me and Jarrett, the woman of the house was called, and she could see us—they could see there was a little girl there—Jacques ordered drink from her, it was something brown, I could not tell what it was—I did not see Jacques again till I saw him at Wimbledon; it was he who asked whether I would like to see my father and mother—I did not learn it was he who had fetched my mother down to Wimbledon—he was very kind to me on that day.

Re-examined. The mistress to whom I sent my love in the letter was Mrs. Hayden, of Spring Street, for whom I had worked and done scrubbing and washing not very long before—I was there about two months; I went three times a week—I never learnt from Jarrett where the nice little cottage was to be—I got the letter saying "A lady is coming to fetch you from Paris straight to me"—I never heard where she was going to take me to—I was asked a great many things at the police-court—I was under examination for a great many hours on more than one day.

ELIZABETH ARMSTRONG . I am the wife of Charles Armstrong, and live at 32, Charles Street, Lisson Grove—my husband is a chimney-sweeper—I have six children, three boys and three girls—the eldest girl is seventeen; Eliza, the next, was thirteen last April; the baby is two years old; my boys are one eleven, another seven, and the other four—my eldest daughter was in service but left on account of her eyesight; she had been at work at the same place three or four months till Easter, when she stopped in the house—the boys went to a board school in Stephen Street—Eliza used to go to school, but latterly used to look after the baby while I was at work as a laundress—Eliza used to do a bit of work for Mrs. Hayden, of Spring Street, but she did not have enough to keep her in work altogether—Eliza washed and scrubbed there—it was Wednesday, June 3, Derby day, that Eliza left home with Mrs. Jarrett—I remember the previous day; Eliza came and said something to me—I then went to Mrs. Broughton's with Eliza, and I saw Mrs. Jarrett there—I did not know her name then, I did not learn it on that day—I

never asked her name, I thought Mrs. Broughton knew it, and that Mrs. Broughton knew all about her, she gave me such a good recommendation of the woman—I asked her if she was the person who wanted a servant girl—she replied "Yes"—I asked where she lived—she replied "Croydon"—I said "Could you not get a girl at Croydon? are there no registry offices there?"—she replied "Oh, yes, but I thought a poor person about here would like to part with one of her children to go into a good home"—I said "You will not have my child," and walked out—nothing more passed between us on that day—next day I was looking out of my window between 10 and 11 in the morning—Mrs. Broughton came along and said "Is Alice in?"—that was Alice West—I said "No"—she said "Is her aunt in?"—her aunt's name is Woodward, she was the person who used to mind the girl—I said "No," and came downstairs—she said "Becky has come again, I should like to give her a girl before she left"—I said "What kind of woman is she? do you think it would be all right if I let Eliza go? is she a genuine sort of woman?"—Mrs. Broughton replied "Oh, yes; do you think I should recommend a neighbour's child if I did not know the woman? she was a fellow-servant of mine at Claridge's Hotel; come in and see her"—I went to Mrs. Brighton's, No. 37, and saw Jarrett sitting on a chair there—Mrs. Broughton went in with me—Jarrett said "Will you let Eliza go? I will tell you what I want a girl for. You see I am a cripple and I cannot go about with a stick"—she had a stick with her—she said "I am married pretty comfortably off to a commercial traveller; I have a little six-roomed house, and I want a girl to kneel and clean about"—I believe Eliza was in the room at that time—I think she came in with us, I am almost sure—Jarrett said she had a good deal of travelling about and did not keep long in one place—I said Eliza could go on one condition, that she should write to me once a week, and that I should see her once a month—Jarrett turned to Eliza and said "Write to your mother as often as you like, as you can read and write"—Jarrett asked me how Eliza was off for clothes—I said "She is not very well off for clothes; the dress she has got on is dark, it will do for her to work about in;" I said "Her boots is strong, I buys the girls strong boots as well as the boys, to last the longest; they will do for her to work in; suppose you try her for a week, and write and let me know if she will suit, and I will buy her some clothes"—she said "Well, suppose I buy her some"—I said "If you do you will have to advance a month's wages"—she said she should like to get the little girl as nice as she could, to show her husband that she had a nice little girl, as he was very particular—she took the child out to the boot-shop—I did not go with her—she brought her back with the boots on to Mrs. Broughton's; I was at my own place; she took her out again and bought her a dress—she did not tell me what price the things were—I did not ask because I thought if she hired the girl, and the girl suited her, she would stop the money out of a month's wages if she purchased things—I did not know what the wages were to be, she was to try her first—Eliza had her dinner at my house—my husband was not at home—Eliza had the clothes on; she had put them on in Mrs. Broughton's—Jarrett trimmed the hat in Mrs. Broughton's parlour—Jarrett said nothing to me about what her name was—I first learnt her name from Mrs. Broughton after the child had gone away—except Croydon,

I did not know her address—Eliza was supposed to be going away at 3 o'clock in the afternoon—I learnt that by asking her what time she was going—I had to go upstairs to get the children their dinner—I left Eliza at Mrs. Broughton's—I last saw the child that afternoon about 3 o'clock—I then went round to the school to leave the key of my room-door, so that they might get in—my husband comes home all hours—I rang at the school door and could not make anybody hear—I wanted my boy to have the key so that my husband could get it when he came home, in case I was out, when I went to see Eliza off—I dare say I was away half an hour or 20 minutes—when I came back I saw Mrs. Broughton coming down the street; I said "Are they gone?"—she said "Yes, I saw her off by the 'bus at the corner of Chapel Street"—that is near our place—I had said nothing to my husband about the child going away to service either on the Tuesday or Wednesday, because my husband leaves all those things to me—it was arranged between us my daughter going to work at Mrs. Hayden's—my husband was very angry indeed when he came back, with me, for letting her go with a strange woman, but I told him it was all right—he struck me—he struck me in the morning because I wanted to go to a funeral, and he said I was not to go; and after I came home at night he struck me for letting her go—I received 1s. from Rebecca Jarrett that day; it was supposed to be a present for the baby—I bought Eliza a comb—that was after she bought the clothes, on Derby day—I also bought a pair of socks for the baby—besides that shilling I had never had a farthing from Jarrett—I am quite clear about that—nor any promise either from Jarrett or Mrs Broughton, nor anybody—my daughter went as a servant to Jarrett—I saw her again only at Bow Street—on the Wednesday following Mrs. Broughton brought me the letter produced—it was sent to Mrs. Broughton—she could not read it—she got some one else to read it for her and then brought it to me. (Read: "Hope Cottages, High Cliff, Winchester. Dear Nancy,—I dare say you are looking for this letter from me, but I am so happy to tell you that Eliza is all right and doing well with me. I have bought her a lot more clothes. She looks quite happy. She sends her love to her mother and father and to you. I am on a visit, and she is with me stopping for a week, but we go home next week. My love to you and Jack, and her mother and father, and to all at your home. I shall soon come and see you again, if you will let me. My love to all.—From yours truly, REBECCA, MRS. SULLIVAN." ) That was shown to me a week after Eliza left—it was signed "Rebecca, Mrs. Sullivan"—I thought that was her married name—I had no other information as to where my daughter was than that letter—I wrote to Eliza, and sent the letter in mistake to Manchester instead of Winchester, and the letter came back a week after from the Dead Letter Office—I thought they were trilling with me—I then felt no anxiety or alarm—I used to ask Mrs. Broughton about her, and she said, "I have not heard nothing, when I do I will bring you a letter"—the beginning of July my neighbours told me about what had appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette—I had not seen the Pall Mall Gazette before that—I went to the Magistrate the next day, Friday, Mr. Cooke at Marylebone, and again on the 11th because of this letter, which I did not have with me the previous day, signed "Rebecca, Mrs. Sullivan," and the Magistrate sent for it—on the Saturday I received this post-card. (The post-mark was Winchester, 11th July, 1885, fourth

delivery; it was addressed to the mother, 32, Charles Street, Lisson Grove, London, to this effect: "Saturday. Your daughter is all right and doing well, but I have been so poorly I have not been able to return to my own home yet, but as you are anxious to see her she shall come next week to see you.—Yours truly, MRS. SULLIVAN." ) Mrs. Broughton told me she had a post-card; she took it to the Magistrate—I took this post-card to the Magistrate as there was no address on it—the Magistrate told me I had made a mistake, and to write to Winchester, which I did, and got no answer—on 14th July Inspector Borner called at my house in Charles Street—I had not seen him before—on 1st August I went with Inspectors Borner and Conquest to the Salvation "Army" headquarters in Queen Victoria Street—I asked to see Mr. Booth—Mr. Borner gave me a bit of paper with Mr. Booth's name on it—that is the gentleman (pointing to the dock)—Mr. Booth asked me what I wanted—I told him I wanted my child—he said "Then you cannot have her"—I said "For why? you are not the person who engaged her as a servant"—he said "Have you 100l.?"—I said "No, Sir, I am only a poor woman"—he said "That is what it has cost me to send her away"—I said "How came you by her?"—he did not make any satisfactory answer; he said something about sending her abroad—I said "Be kind enough to send her back to England to go with me and Mrs. Broughton before a Magistrate, and say that I never sold her, as I had got the scandal of"—Mr. Booth said she would not know—I said "A girl of 13 would know whether she was sold or not"—he said "I will pay you her wages if you like, weekly or monthly"—he turned to Inspector Borner and said "How much do you think a girl of her age would require wages?"—Mr. Borner said that was a question he could not answer, that was best known to the mother—I said "All I want is my child"—Mr. Booth said "Would not it be a pity to take her away from such a good situation as she is in?"—Inspector Borner said "Yes, it would"—Mr. Booth said "You have received a letter from her?"—I said "Yes, there is no address on it"—I had not received any letter from my daughter except this one of 22nd July produced—I had not mentioned a letter to him—he said "Oh, that is what you want, the address?" and gave it me already written out on this piece of paper. (Produced: "Eliza Armstrong, care of Monsieur T. H. Berard, Loriol, Drome, France.") That was the first intimation I had of her address until the receipt of the letter of 22nd July—I had no idea she was out of the country—Inspector Borner said something about the woman being scandalised, and she thought her daughter had come to some harm—he was referring to me—he said "The mother thought her child had come to some harm"—Mr. Booth said "Before I sent her away I had her examined by one of my physicians, and I can show you a certificate to prove the child has not been tampered with"—I put my hands together and said "Thank God"—Mr. Booth then asked me to consult my husband—I consulted my husband—I wrote a letter to Mr. Booth on 4th August—I stamped and posted it myself—I addressed it to Mr. Bramwell Booth, 101, Victoria Street. (The certificate and letter were called for and not produced. INSPECTOR BORNER proved the notice to produce served on "Captain" Geysen, at the Headquarters of the Salvation "Army" and that Geysen undertook to give it to Mr. Booth). I kept no copy of the letter—as near as I can recollect I said: "Sir,—Me and my husband have been talking

about"—I cannot say whether I said "daughter" or "child"—"that went away on Derby Day with the intention of going to service with a woman named Rebecca Jarrett"—I do not recollect whether I said "Rebecca Jarrett" or "Sullivan"—"which it is proved she did not want a servant at all; and how you came by the child it is a mystery that must be found out. Sir, I think it is impossible that you can send a child out of her own country into a foreign country without the consent of her parents"—I hardly know what I said at the end; I know it was about the Lord Jesus Christ rewarding him for the money, if I did not, for sending her away; I thought he might bring her back then—I signed the letter "From the unhappy parents, Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong"—the letter never came back to me—I put my own address inside, "Charles Street, Lisson Grove"—I posted this letter to my daughter on the same day and at the same office, commencing "Dear Child,—Me and your father"—I wrote it as soon as I got the address from Mr. Booth—I afterwards received a letter, partly in my daughter's writing and partly in somebody else's—soon after my husband went to France with Von Tornow—on 22nd August some one called on me; my neighbours told me who it was—on the Sunday two gentlemen called at 1.15—Mr. Jacques was one, but he had whiskers and a moustache; Mr. Thicknesse was the other—I thought my daughter was gone to France, and that my husband had gone to fetch her home—Jacques said "Are you Mrs. Armstrong?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Would you like to see your daughter?"—I said "Oh yes, Sir, very much indeed"—he said "Then you shall see her"—he asked me if my husband had come home from France, and I said "No"—I had never seen those gentlemen before, and I did not know how they had found out that my husband had gone to France—I do not now—Mr. Thicknesse pulled this letter out of his pocket in this Pall Mall Gazette envelope (produced)—Jacques said it came from Mr. Stead. (Read: "Pall Mall Gazette Office, Northumberland Street, Strand, August 22nd, 1885.—Mrs. Armstrong,—Madam,—I am informed to-day for the first time that you wish your daughter Eliza restored to you. She is well taken care of and very happy, but, of course, if you and Mr. Armstrong really wish to have her returned to you I am, and always have been, perfectly ready to comply with your request. As yet, however, you have not informed any one with whom I have been in communication, either the police or the Salvation 'Army' people, that you desire her to be taken from a good situation in order to have her back at home. If, however, you should now inform me that you want to have her back, I shall deliver her over on receipt of your letter to that effect. I would suggest, however, if you only wish to satisfy yourself that Eliza is all right and safe, that you and Mr. Armstrong should see her for yourselves, and then she should return to her situation, where she is giving satisfaction and doing very well.—I am, yours truly, Chief DIRECTOR. ") (The envelope was addressed to "Mrs. Armstrong, 32, Charles Street, Bell Street, Edgware Road.") I did not know who the Chief Director was—I had not heard of Mr. Stead before that—Thicknesse had another letter, which he said came from Eliza, but he would not give it to me now—Jacques said "Give it to the mother," but he said "No, I was informed to keep that one"—Thicknesse said "You shall see her to-morrow; you shall come with me to-morrow and you shall spend half an hour with her; I am sure you will not take her away then when she

tells you how happy and comfortable she has been"—I said "Yes, the moment I see her I shall take her away"—Jacques said "Suppose the mother spends half a day with her, I am sure she had better stop there"—I said "No, I will take her away directly I see her"—my eldest daughter then came into the room—Jacques asked me if that was another daughter of mine, and I said "Yes," that was my eldest daughter—he said "Would you not like to see your sister?"—she said "Oh yes, Sir, very much indeed," and she cried—he said "You shall see her tomorrow; what time will it suit you to go?"—they fixed 10, and afterwards 11 o'clock—Jacques said "Whatever you do, do not you say nothing about it to the police," and I said "No," but I thought it was right the police should know it—Inspector Borner called a quarter of an hour after they left—I showed him the letter and told him I was going to see my daughter at 11 on the morrow.

Saturday, October 24th.

ELIZABETH ARMSTRONG (continued). Borner came to me at half-past 9 on Monday, 24th August—Mr. Thicknesse came next—he said "Is this Mr. Armstrong?"—I said "No, Sir"—Borner said "I am an inspector of police"—I said to Mr. Thicknesse "I beg your pardon, Sir, before I go where are you going to take me?"—he said "To Wimbledon"—I said "I wish this gentleman (Borner) to go with me"—Mr. Thicknesse said "Well, I don't think it is required"—I said "I wish it"—Borner asked him his name—he gave it, and we then went out—Mr. Thicknesse, Borner, me, and my eldest daughter Elizabeth—we met Mr. Jacques at the top of the street, and we then went to Cheviot Street and took a cab and went to Wimbledon to Mr. Stead's house—Jacques did not say who he was—I had only seen him at my house on the Sunday—at Wimbledon I fancy I saw Mrs. Stead first—Miss Green brought the child in, and they all left the room with the exception of me and my two daughters—Miss Green was the person that was spoken of as the cook at the Salvation "Army" at Paris—it was arranged that I and my eldest daughter should see Eliza alone—my daughter came in when they had left—she was very glad indeed to see me, and cried and kissed me—we remained together talking for some half-hour or three-quarters—I asked her where she had been—after that we had some lunch—Jacques came in; he did not say anything then till we had had lunch—he then asked me if Eliza looked well—I said I thought she did, and I thought she had grown—he then asked me if I had not better let her stay where she was, and he would get her a situation, and I said "No"—he said the situation would be near my home, near the Bayswater Road—I said "No, Sir; I would get her one myself"—he said he would call on me; I might make up my mind in two or three days to let her go—shortly after that I went upstairs with Mr. Jacques; Mr. Thicknesse was up there—Jacques asked me to go—Mr. Thicknesse read a paper—before the paper was read, Jacques said "I will double Eliza's wages; suppose I make it even money; I will do that; you have had a long trouble," and produced 2l. 10s.—I signed this paper (produced)—the signature is the only writing of mine on it; it was already written out before I signed it. (This was dated 24th August, 1885, Wimbledon, and stated: "I have received my daughter Eliza safe and sound, together with double wages as agreed upon, for all the time she has been away. My daughter tells me she has been very happy and comfortable; that the

people she has been with have been very kind to her. I am quite satisfied that she has been subject to no outrage or illusage. Signed, ELIZA ARMSTRONG, and witnessed by Mr. Thicknesse, secretary of the Minors' Protection Committee.") The outrage was never mentioned; it was never read like that to me; I never could agree to that, because I never knew and don't know now; I would never sign my hand to that—I can read; it was all read out to me except the outrage and illusage—the "I am quite satisfied" was not read—at that same interview Jacques said "You need not trouble the police any more now"—he also said "Before you take your daughter away will you have her examined before me?"—I said "No"—I then came downstairs and saw Miss Green and Mrs. Stead, and then came away with Inspector Borner, Mr. Thicknesse, Mr. Jacques, and my two daughters, and went to the Treasury Solicitor's offices, and made a statement to that gentleman there, Mr. Pollard—I received two letters from my daughter while she was away, and the child wrote three—I never received one from Paris a few days after she left—I went down to Winchester with Mr. Hailes, of Lloyd's—I do not remember the date—Mrs. Broughton told me on the day the child went away that she had a sovereign—she said it was for being so kind to Jarrett.

Cross-examined by MR. RUSSELL. When I said my child was looking well and had grown I thought so, I saw considerable signs of improvement in her appearance—it was at Mrs. Stead's instance that I was left with my child to have a talk with her, I and my eldest daughter, and we had a long talk together by ourselves—Mrs. Stead said Mrs. Broughton was a very bad woman, and I said I didn't think she was as bad as Rebecca Jarrett, and she said, "Yes, worse"—when the reference was made by Mr. Booth on 1st August to some medical certificate to satisfy me that the child had not been outraged I expressed my pleasure that that was so—I believed what Mr. Booth had told me—on 4th August I wrote him a letter, in which I said God would reward him for all the trouble he had taken and for what he had done—I thought he would restore my child back to me, and I thought he had been acting from good motives—I understood Mr. Jacques's proposition to mean a medical examination—I did not say to him, "No, I am satisfied with what my child has told me;" I never asked the child the question—I was satisfied with the child saying that she had been kindly treated while she was in France—I said before the Magistrate, "I was satisfied with what the child had told me;" I did not mean "about the outrage;" I was satisfied by her saying she had been kindly treated while in France—I can read a little—the words "I have received my daughter Eliza safe and sound" were in the paper that was read to me by Mr. Thicknesse—I did not read the paper myself—he only read part of the paper—I signed it—I was an intimate friend of Mrs. Broughton's, only as a neighbour, just to pass the time of day and like that, to bid her good morning, that was all—she had lived in our neighbourhood between two and three years—I had never been into her room before, nor did she ever come into mine—we had not been drinking together or anything of that kind—I did not know what her character or previous history had been—I had never seen Jarrett before Tuesday, 2nd June, and knew nothing of her history; I did not know her name—I knew her name by the first letter, when she put "Mrs. Sullivan"—that was her marriage name—that was a week

after the child left—I had asked Mrs. Broughton what her name was—she said she knew the name as Jarrett when she was in service with her, but she did not know her marriage name—I asked Mrs. Broughton that question two or three days before I had the letter—I did not say anything to Mrs. Broughton on that—I uuderstood that Mrs. Broughton understood that she was married and well off, but did not know her name—I allowed my child to go because of Mrs. Broughton's statement as to her knowledge of this woman—I did not get her address before my child left; I thought Mrs. Broughton knew, because she was going to stay a week with her in the country—I asked her where she stayed on the Tuesday night, and she said she stayed with her mother in Albany Street—I have not said anything about this visit of Mrs. Broughton's to Jarrett until to-day—on the morning of 2nd June I went to Mrs. Broughton in consequence of something my child had said to me—I had also heard from a little girl that there was a strange woman there who was wanting a little girl—when I went over I asked her where she lived, and she said Croydon; if I said Wimbledon it was my mistake; I could not swear that she said Croydon, but I am almost sure she did—I never heard Winchester mentioned or Wimbledon—I said to her, "Can't you get a servant at Croydon? is there not a registry office there?"—I could not understand her coming to a street like ours to look for a girl when she might have got a servant nearer home; I thought there was something very queer and suspicious about it; to tell you the truth I did not care for the look of the woman at all, and that made me more suspicious—I said rather shortly, "You shan't have my child," and went away—it was on the Wednesday she said her mother kept a house in Albany Street—I said, "She has got good friends, then?" and she said "Yes"—Albany Street is not a great way from our house—I could not tell what kind of character Albany Street has—I made inquiry to try and find the house, but I could not; I and Mr. Hales made inquiry—in the interview with Mr. Booth no reference was made to Albany Street—nothing was said about where my child was going to sleep on the Wednesday—I understood that she was going out of town straight into the country, straight off to Croydon as I supposed; I am sure of that—I heard that Becky, as Mrs. Broughton called her, was at Mrs. Broughton's house on the Wednesday morning—I was looking out of my first-floor window and saw Mrs. Broughton—I went over to her, and asked her whether Jarrett was a genuine woman—she said she had been in service with her at Claridge's—I did not ask what as, or when—I had no information about her beyond what Mrs. Broughton said—I did not know on the Wednesday what her name was or her address—at the time I spoke to Mrs. Broughton on the Wednesday she was inquiring about the girl Alice—she inquired whether the child's aunt was in—she lives in the same house as May—it is a cottage with two rooms, one below and one above—Mrs. Broughton said, "Becky is come again, I should like to get her a girl to-day before she goes"—she said Jarrett kept a little four-roomed house, that her husband was a commercial traveller—she did not say she was living with a man; she said she was married, very comfortable, to a commercial traveller—Eliza was not in the room then; she came in afterwards—she did not say she wanted the child for a gentleman, I am quite certain of that, nothing of the kind—she asked me was the child a pure child—I asked her what she meant by that—she said,

"Well, is she a forward girl?"—I said, "Oh dear no, far from it"—she did not ask whether she had been in the habit of romping about the street with boys—I never allowed it—she asked whether she was well behaved, and I said "Yes"—she said her husband was a very particular man; she did not say "the gentleman"—I said I was willing to let the child go, after she told me what she wanted; a little girl to clean about—when the child came in, about 12 o'clock, she said "You will be a good girl, and help me; you see I cannot get about very well myself"—the child said "Yes, ma'am"—it was at that time that the scrubbing and cleaning was mentioned—I then left and went to my house—I came back in about a quarter of an hour—my mouth was then bleeding—my husband had struck me because I wanted to go to a funeral; he said I should not go, I said I would go, and he struck me—that would be a little after 12 o'clock—I did not tell my husband about the child going—not then; I was very cross, and I would not tell him—I did not see him before night, I think—I think he had been home, but I did not see him—I don't think I saw him till night—I won't swear I did not—I did not tell my daughter that I did tell my husband—if she has said so it is a mistake—I did not tell my husband; he leaves everything to me—he asked where Eliza was when he came home at night—I told him she had gone to service—he said "Who with?"—I said "A friend of Mrs. Broughton's"—he said "What made you let her go with a strange woman?"—I said "Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Broughton gives a very good account of her, she has lived fellow-servant with her; it's all right"—he did not ask me her name—I said she was a lady that kept a house in the country—that was all—we had a few words over it for my letting her go, and he struck me—that was between 8 and 9 o'clock—I never had a drop that day till after my husband struck me at night; I had none in the day—I was taken into custody about 10 o'clock, I think, or a little after—it was for having a few words with a person I knew—I was not drunk and disorderly; they put it down so—I was bailed out by the landlord of the Marquis of Anglesea—my husband assisted in getting bail for me—I was fined the next morning—when I came back with my mouth bleeding I did not ask for some money for drink—I did not want none; I had some upstairs—that was the time at which I got the shilling—in addition to the shilling I did not get 1l. paid into my hand by the strange woman—not one farthing; that I will swear—I swear it before my Maker—I will call the Lord as a witness for that—I was not struck with the fact of the woman offering to supply clothes, because when the child came back, and was dressed, she said it was her Sunday suit which she was supposed to wear on Sunday—the child had clothes fit enough for work—she did not want for clothes decent enough to do her work in—she had a plain and comfortable dress, a good pair of strong boots, and some good underneath clothes—I was startled at the fact of this strange woman coming for a girl on Tuesday—nothing was said or done on the Tuesday—on the Wednesday I was not surprised at her rigging out my child, because they were not showy clothes; they were very quiet clothes, neat, but not gaudy—nothing was said about wages—I thought that was to be agreed upon when the child had been there a week to see if she would suit—she was to go on trial for a week; nothing of that kind was said—the word wages was never mentioned to me—nothing was said about

wages at any time—I understood that she was going on trial for a week, and if she answered then the question of wages would come up, but nothing of that kind was said—I thought it was very kind of her to take out the child to be dressed—I have never known a similar case—she fitted her clothes on her, and trimmed her hat—I was to come and see her off—I was told they were to leave at 3 o'clock—I did not know they were going so precisely as 3 o'clock—I went to the School Board about 2.50 or 2.55—the School Board is round the corner—I was going to leave the key there with my little boy, so that when my husband came home to give it to him—the School Board does not "loose" till 4 o'clock, but you can leave a message, or you can leave a key—the boy would not get out till 4.30—I did not leave the key with a neighbour, because I thought my husband would not like it—Mrs. Woodward was not at home; no one was in the house—I kept ringing the bell, and could not get in; the bell is in the playground—I was ringing there about a quarter of an hour, I think—I had never left the key there before—I have to go about my own work sometimes and leave the house locked up—I take the key with me then—I expected my husband would be home before night—he comes home at all hours—it was known in the neighbourhood that my child had gone—the fact that a strange woman had come and had seen several little girls with a view to getting one bad been talked about among the neighbours—I did not know that till after my child had gone—I did not know on the Wednesday that the strange woman had been seeing several other little girls in the street with a view to see whether she could not get one of them—I am sure of that—I mean on the Tuesday—I did not know it on the Wednesday; I did not know it til after my child had gone; one little girl said "She wanted me to go, but I was too old," and another said "She wanted me to go, and I was too old"—I did not know about Jane Farrer till afterwards, and I did not know about Alice West, because Mrs. Broughton was coming to inquire of her aunt—I did not know of Lizzie Stevens till after—I did not tell my child on the Tuesday or Wednesday that what was wanted was a child just over thirteen; but I was told so by Mrs. Broughton and the strange woman—it did not strike me as odd why a girl 14, 15, or 16 should not do—it was Mrs. Jarrett who said that the one that was wanted was a girl or child over 13—she said between 13 and 14; she asked me if I was sure Lizzie was no more than 13; I said no, she was 13 last April—it did not strike me as at all singular why 14, or 15, or 16 should not do—after the child left it was talked of among my neighbours about my child going away, and then I heard more fully about three or four other girls who had been seen and were too old; one little girl lives near my house, named Margaret Fann; she was the child that the sister was to let go; she was ready to go, only the sister's husband would not let her go; the sister was willing she should go, and she was quit ready to go—Inspector Borner had been to see her—Jarrett had asked leave to see the sister; she was just over 13, she would have gone back to her sister, only the sister's husband would not allow her—I also heard a niece of Mrs. Broughton's spoken about—she told me herself, "I was too old, or I could have had the place if I liked"—she was I believe 17—Jane Farrer was also spoken of, I have heard since; she was too old; and Lizzie Stevens was too old—Margaret Fann was about the same age as my little child, and she was ready to go—my neighbours

that same week in which the 2nd and 3rd of June came, spoke to me rather angrily about this matter, because they could not make out why she did not write—Mrs. Stollard was one, and Mrs. Mudd was another; and others—my neighbours did not accuse me and Mrs. Broughton of selling the child that week, not till the Pall Mall Gazette came out; they did then make accusation against me—the Gazette came out on the Monday, and I was shown it on the Thursday—my neighbours had not complained that I had improperly parted with my child till after the Gazette came out; they used to talk to me about Eliza not writing at all; but not anything else till after the Gazette came out—my neighbours were not in effect charging me and Mrs. Broughton with having improperly parted with my child—I had not had angry discussions with them before 6th July—nothing of the sort occurred till after the Monday when the Gazette came out—I thought the child referred to in the Gazette might possibly have connection my child, because the child was taken away on the Derby day, and because she was thinking she was going to service; they said the name was Lily, and I thought they might have christened her Lily instead of Eliza; and also the article stated that she had never been in the country, except in school treats—I saw that it was stated in the article that the child had been sold; but I knew that could not be me because my child was not sold—on the Thursday that I read it I went to Mrs. Broughton, and I said to her "Mrs. Broughton, I suppose you have not had a letter?" she said "No; if I had I should have brought it to you, as I did the other one"—I said "What a dreadful thing that is in the Gazette"—she said "Yes, I am all of a tremble"—she was sitting at tea—nobody ever came to me till I went to the Magistrate—I said before the Magistrate "Two or three of my neighbours spoke to me about the disappearance of my child; Mrs. Stollard was one, Mrs. Mudd was another, and a good many persons stopped me in the street"—that was after the Gazette came out; not before—I mean in my own street—it was after the Pall Mall Gazette article—they said to me it looked as though I might have sold my child—that was after I said "The Pall Mall Gazette article increased my uneasiness"—after the Pall Mall Gazette came out on the Monday they read it, and then they told me it looked very much like as if I had sold the child—I never read it myself till the Thursday—not till afterwards—if I said that that was before the Pall Mall Gazette came out it was a mistake; it was afterwards—before the Gazette some of my neighbours said if I had not sold my child, it looked very much like it; so it did when they read the Gazette look very much like it, but I did not say so before—if I said so, that was my mistake; when I saw the Gazette it made me more uneasy—it was a mistake on my part if I said so, it was after the Gazette.

Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. I recollect the interview with Mr. Jacques and Mr. Thicknesse—Mr. Jacques gave me money and told me not to mention the fact to the police—I had never seen Mr. Jacques or Mr. Thicknesse before—I had a long conversation with both—Mr. Jacques made an observation to me—throwing my memory back as far as I can, I am sure that that observation was not made by Mr. Thicknesse, but by Mr. Jacques—I have not mentioned it before—Mr. Thicknesse told Mr. Borner, not me, that he was secretary of the Minors' Association.

Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. When I went away from home on that Saturday afternoon that my daughter went away I had no notion how

long it would be before my husband returned—I did not expect him back till between 5 and 6, or 7—he went on a little business, if he did not succeed in it he was coming away earlier—at that time there was no probability, so far as I knew, of his returning before 6—the school was not loose till 4.30—I knew that my child was going with this strange woman at 3, and it was then five minutes to 3—it would take about ten minutes to go to the Board School and back—I was not forced to leave my home for any purpose that afternoon at all—I did not wait that five minutes to see my child off and then take the key to the Board School, because I did not know what station, or where they were going to take the child to go to the country, whether it was a 'bus or a cab—I did not know how long I should be away—I knew she was going at 3 o'clock, and that if I waited five minutes longer I would be able to kiss her and send her off, and yet I went straight away from home five minutes before she left because I did not think they were going exactly at 3 o'clock at all—what I went out of the house for, was to give the key to the child—I knew Mrs. Broughton was going to see her off as well as myself—I did not do it because I thought Mrs. Broughton could see her off, and that I need not—I cannot give any reason why I did it—I expected to see her again—I kissed her before she went away and wished her good-bye—the child said she was coming back again—I have no other answer to give—when I went over the second day to see Mrs. Jarrett, on the Wednesday, I did not ask her where she was going in the presence of Mr. Broughton—Mrs. Broughton did not say to me "There is Becky," Eliza—I am quite clear about that—I thought she was going to Croydon—I asked her where she was going—Jarrett did not say "I am going to Albany Street," Albany Street was never mentioned till night, when I asked Mrs. Broughton where Mrs. Jarrett stayed—Mrs. Jarrett was not there then—that was the same evening, Wednesday, the 3rd of the month—I asked Mrs. Broughton where Jarrett slept that night, Tuesday night, as she came on Wednesday morning, and she said she slept in Albany Street, Regent's Park, as her mother kept a house there—the first time I heard anything about Albany Street was after my daughter went away, not before—the same day, Wednesday, Mr. Hailes, the reporter of Lloyd's Newspaper, took me to Albany Street after I had been to the Magistrate—that was some weeks afterwards—I will not swear whether I said before the Magistrate that I first heard about Albany Street when Mr. Hailes, the reporter of Lloyd's Newspaper, took me there—at the first interview I had with Mr. Bramwell Booth, he and I and Inspector Conquest and Inspector Borner were present—I told him I wanted my child—I might have said "I want to see my child"—I will not swear I did not—he said that I could not—he did not say to me at once "The child is some distance off in France, and it will be expensive to fetch her over here:" he did not mention France to me—I did not hear him say the child was some distance off, and it would be expensive to fetch her over here—he said that it would be far better for me to let the child stay where she was; that he had given me her address, and I could write to her as much as I liked; it was better that she should remain where she was—I answered that I had got the address, and would go and ask my husband about it—I did not see Mr. Booth turn to Inspector Burner, and say either partially or directly to him or to me that he would

wait till he heard what my wishes were through the police; nothing to that effect—I had not known Mrs. Jarrett by sight, or in any way whatever, before she came for my daughter—I did not know anything at all about her character—I had never heard of her, either in name or anything about her of any sort or kind—I understood Mrs. Broughton's character to be perfectly good likewise—I had known her husband a good many years by working in the same street as where I live, in doing up the rooms and the houses—I had no quarrel at all with her on the Tuesday—I never had any words with her till the day I pasted the letters, when she stood at the door laughing—I did not call her any names on the Tuesday—I did not see anything more of her on Tuesday after I left the house, when I refused my child to go with Rebecca Jarrett—after I came out of the house when I refused for the child to go to service, I never saw any more of Mrs. Broughton—when I refused to let her go to service Jane Farrer might have been there—I cannot swear—when Mrs. Broughton suggested to me to let my daughter go to service I thought it was a desirable thing—I did not then think it would lead me to call her any ugly names, nor at any time during the whole week—I refused to let my daughter go on the Tuesday because I did not like the look of Mrs. Jarrett—I do not mean that I thought she was ugly, simply, but she did not look like a woman I should like to trust; I would not have done so but for Mrs. Broughton's recommendation—I called Mrs. Jarrett the strange woman; she was a strange woman to me then—Mrs. Broughton did not tell me that my child wanted to go to a place with a woman living in her room or to go to a place with a strange woman, or with anybody—it is not the fact that after Rebecca Jarrett had gone away on the first day, Mrs. Broughton saw Mrs. Armstrong out in the street, and then Mrs. Broughton told her that her child wanted to go to a place with a woman living in her room—it is not true as to Mrs. Broughton saying that about the child, nor that I turned round and called her names—I never had no conversation with Mrs. Broughton—I did not tell her that she was a b—cow, and that she should not have my daughter; oh no, Sir; I do not use such language; it is false—I never had any words with Mrs. Broughton till the day I posted the letter to my child, and she was standing there at the door laughing, and I said "You have got a nice lot to laugh at; there is a nice thing for a respectable commercial traveller's wife to do"—that was a week afterwards—that is quite false—Jane Farrer now lives in Highwood Street, I believe, or Allen Street—that is two or three minutes off—I have not seen her since she gave evidence before the Magistrate—I read her evidence in the paper, and I said "No wonder Rebecca Jarrett called her an untruthful girl; she is a very untruthful girl to say such a thing"—it is Jane Farrer that is telling the falsehood—I did not tell Mr. Booth in any way or form that I understood Rebecca to be a gay woman, nor anything like it—I did not know what she was; nor did he say to me "It is rather peculiar is it not, that you should let your child go with a woman of that character?"—if I had known she had been a gay woman I should not have let my child go with her—it is not a fact that when he asked me that question I stood still, and one of the inspectors exclaimed "Now, this just shows how difficult it is to get a plain statement out of her?"—that was not said—I told Mr. Booth that when the child left I understood she was going to Croydon—I do not recollect whether he said "Did you

understand that she was going to Croydon that night?"—I am not prepared to swear one way or the other—I might have said "No, I thought she was going to Mrs. Jarrett's mother," but I would not swear—Mr. Booth did not then say "Where to?"—he did not put them questions to me at all—I did not say in answer to that "Albany Street;" nor did he say "Why, do not you know what sort of a place Albany Street is?" nothing like it, nor did I say in reply "I understood that the woman kept a house there"—Mr. Booth did not then say "What, a bad house?"—he never mentioned such a thing to me about a bad house or a good house—before the Magistrate I said "A girl of 13 would know: I have had the scandal of the neighbours in the street that I sold my child for 5l. for improper purposes"—that was to Mr. Booth—I have got another daughter out in service older than this one here—she asked me if she should go, and I said yes—I had worked for the person who Lizzie was in place with, and while I worked there she worked there as well, and the missis wanted a girl to stop in the house, and I said yes, as Lizzie liked the place very well she could stop, and she stopped; she had worked there with me—I made the arrangement myself for her to go where she is; she did not.

Cross-examined by Stead. I read the Pall Mall Gazette first on the Thursday, and I went to the police-court on the Friday, and saw Inspector Borner on the Saturday—I hardly recollect whether I told him what it was that made me uneasy—I knew that he was the officer who was to inquire into the matter, because he told me—I did not tell him I thought my daughter was Lily; I thought she was, and I do now—I do not think I told the inspector who had to investigate the case that I thought that, but I had no reason for not telling him—I told the Magistrate, Mr. Cooke, that I thought Lily was Eliza—I do not know whether I told anybody else so—I never told my husband I thought Lily was Eliza, because I know the violent man he is—I did not read it to him, because it was too disgusting to read to anybody; that was the only reason, that it would shock his feelings—I was afraid to read it to him—if I told him that our child was the child, I knew what the consequences would be—it was not because of the idea of the effect of reading to him what was filthy or obscene, but because I was afraid if he thought Lily was Eliza he would have struck me; so that I, living in the same house with my husband, and knowing how anxious he was about the child, never told him or suggested to him in any way whatever that the people at the Pall Mall Gazette office knew anything about it; I did not know they did—I read an account in the Pall Mall Gazette, and thought it related to my daughter, more especially when I read the verse in the first letter I had—the first letter I never had; that was sent to you, I believe—I identified my child to be the "Lily" of the Pall Mall Gazette on the Thursday of the week the story was published, and yet I never thought the Pall Mall Gazette people knew anything about my daughter—I thought it was a very strange thing, but I never thought to make inquiry; where was I to make inquiry? I did not know where you lived—I did not think you knew anything about it—I should soon have applied to you if I had thought you knew anything about my child, I assure you—there were so many mixed up in it—the paper was the first thing that brought to my knowledge the story of "Lily"—I never asked anybody to come to your office, I should have come myself if I had known—I did not look to see if the address of the office was printed at the bottom of the

paper—I was not certain; the things looked much alike, but more especially when the letter come—the first letter I never had; I believe you had that—when my child wrote the second letter, that was the first I had, there was the verse in it, and that made me more certain that it was the child—about the beginning of August I got the first letter I had from my daughter, and that was the first that contained those verses; that was out of the Gazette—until I saw it in the Gazette I did not know the child knew the verse, but she told me since she did know it—I did not know it till I got the letter, and then it corresponded with the Gazette, and then I had a very strong suspicion that "Lily" was Eliza, and when I got the letter in August containing the very same verse which appeared in the Gazette, I felt pretty sure that it was the same—on July 9th I identified my daughter, because she was called "Lily," though my daughter's name is Eliza—there were two or three other reasons; there were other little things—you will please understand me properly—the first point was "Lily," the second point was Derby Day, and the third point was the Sunday-school treat—the child had never been to a Sunday-school treat, except to Epping Forest and Richmond; of course she had been to them two places by her Sunday-school treats, and when the letter came it made me the more sure it was the child, because of the verse—another thing was, that a neighbour came to ask the mother for the child—I thought Mrs. Broughton was the neighbour, the woman who had procured the child for Rebecca Jarrett for immoral purposes—I thought then Mrs. Broughton had procured the child for immoral purposes; but not at first, for it is not likely I should let the child go—I thought Mrs. Broughton had really got my daughter for immoral purposes, and after I read the Gazette I said what a dreadful thing it is, I cannot be easy, I will go to the Magistrate to-morrow—Mr. Broughton said "Perhaps she will come home on Monday"—I said "No," I have read the Pall Mall Gazette, and something strikes me that the child 'Lily' is my child"—he said "Becky would not do such a thing to your child"—I have told all the conversation I had with Mr. Broughton—he gave as good an account of Jarrett as Mrs. Broughton did—I did not say that Rebecca, and his wife had beguiled my child away—I did not tell him what I thought about his wife; I do not know why—they were both together having tea—Mrs. Broughton was all trembling when I went in, she said she had read the Gazette—she said "What a dreadful thing about the child; I do not suppose Becky would do a thing like that to your child"—I said "Well, you don't know anything about anybody," and I said "I will go and see about my child"—I did not tell Mr. Broughton that Mrs. Broughton had helped Mrs. Jarrett to get my child for an immoral purpose, but I thought then she had—I went to the Magistrate the next morning, but before that I went to Mrs. Broughton, and said "Mrs. Broughton, I am going to the Magistrate, will you give me that letter that I may show it to the Magistrate that first came from Rebecca Jarrett?"—she said "I will not give it you, because you will be sure to tell the neighbours in the street. You expect me to bring it back and then say I am a bad woman"—I said "I did say so, and I mean it," and she said she would not give it up till the officer saw it—I thought she had deceived me then—she said it was not my child, and I said I expected it was—I do not now think Mrs. Broughton deceived me—I think she is innocent; I think that woman deceived her as she did me—I began to believe she was innocent after

the inspector had been to her and said he did not think she was in it—the police told me she was innocent, and put all the blame upon Rebecca Jarrett; Mr. Thomas also said Mrs. Broughton was not to blame, and I do not think so now—I believed them rather than my own knowledge—about nine days after I had been to Marylebone Police-court I went to the Mansion House; Mr. Thomas brought me down, and then I told theaud whole story and showed the first letter—Mr. and Mrs. Broughton were there—I hardly recollect whether I was told then that my child was perfectly safe, it is no good my saying I can if I cannot—a gentleman said it was very neglectful on my part to let her go with a strange woman, and I told him I left it all to Mrs. Broughton—he may have said, "You may rely upon it your daughter is perfectly safe now," but I do not recollect it—as a mother being anxious about my daughter I should have been very glad to get news of that kind—I do not know the gentleman's name—I went away with Mr. Thomas; he did not tell me that day or any time afterwards that my child was perfectly safe, I am certain of that—I am not quite certain Mr. Thomas never told me my child was safe—I thought he was a good man, and I do now, who was taking a great interest in my child, and who wanted to put my mind at rest, and if he knew my child was safe he would have told me and only too glad—he never told me my child was all right (I did not think he knew) or that you were responsible for my child, I am quite sure of that—he never gave me any assurance to relieve my mind about my child—I never knew that he knew anything about it, or that you only were responsible—he never said to me that if he had not believed that I had sold my child he would have given her back at once—I addressed a letter to Mr. Bramwell Booth, 101, Queen Victoria Street, and he told me my daughter was in a good situation, and asked me to consult my husband as to whether she should stop there—I consulted my husband, I spoke to him—I went to see Mr. Booth, and he wanted 100l.; he would rather not give the child up, he would rather make her a ward in Chancery—he said I had better write to him—I cannot help what my husband says, I know very well what I told him—he was at home when I told him what Mr. Booth said—it is false if he says I did not communicate with him; in fact, after I had written the letter I read it to him before I sent it—that letter was written in reply to an offer made by Mr. Booth to give up my child if I and my husband wanted it given up—I wrote a letter to Mr. Catlin, of Lloyd's Newspaper, the week before last I think, in which I said, "If Mr. Bramwell Booth had offered to give me up my child when I applied to him it would have saved all this time and trouble," but he did not offer to give up the chil✗d; how could he if he wanted 100l.?—I wish you had my letter there to read it—I said at the police-court, "Me and my husband have been talking about our little girl that went away on Derby Day with the intention of going to service with a woman" (I cannot say whether I said Jarrett or Sullivan) "which is proved she did not want a servant at all. How you came by the child is a mystery, and must be found out. Sir, I think it is a thing impossible that you could stand to send a child out of her own country into a foreign country without the consent of the parents;" then I said something about Christ rewarding him if I did not—I thought that offer was only made on condition that the 100l. was paid—I know there is no mention of the

100l. in the letter—I did not know Jarrett's name was Sullivan till after I received the first letter that Mrs. Broughton sent me—Mrs. Broughton said her name was Becky, I did not know it was Sullivan—I must have told an untruth if I said that she told me her name was Sullivan—it was on Wednesday night Mrs. Broughton told me that the strange woman was living with her mother in Albany Street—she said that her mother kept the house in Albany Street—Mrs. Broughton told me Rebecca Jarrett, or whatever her name might be, slept at her mother's place close against the barracks—that was on the Wednesday night—if she says she told me on the Tuesday night she is not speaking the truth; at that rate she must have been there on the Monday nighy—I told Mr. Hailes, the reporter of Lloyd's Newspaper, what Mrs. Broughton told me about where she stayed—I told him that she told me she said she stayed at Albany Street at her mother's—he said "That is the place to make inquiries, then"—if I said at the police-court "I am positive I did not say anything to Mr. Hailes about Albany Street," I told a lie—I had no idea how much my daughter was to get a week, but a little girl of thirteen would get two shillings or half a crown a week I reckon—she was to get a month's wages advanced to get new clothes with—four weeks at two shillings a week would make eight shillings, or allowing half a crown, ten shillings—when she took the child out to buy the clothes I did not know what clothes she was going to buy, I thought it was a bit of print to make her a cotton dress or some aprons with—I did not know it was a suit—I saw the clothes which were bought for my daughter before she went away, and I did not think much of them—a 1 3/4 d. tie and a 3s. 11d. pair of boots was not very expensive—I did not see the underclothing, I only see the hat and boots—she had no cloak when she left me—I do not know whether the clothes, the frock, the hat, the ribbon, the scarf, could have been bought out of a month's wages—I have had two daughters—I have bought dresses for them—I buy cheap and I buy dear—I do not know how much they all cost, I do not know that they cost close upon 1l. out of a month's wages—on the Wednesday afternoon I did not go to Mrs. Broughton to ask her to lend me sixpence; I did not want sixpence—I will tell you what I did say; the baby was crying while Mrs. Jarrett was talking to me, I said "Lend me a penny to buy something for the baby, for I cannot hear what this person is saying;" she said "Yes, I will," and put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a shilling, not six-pence—if Mrs. Broughton says I came to her to borrow sixpence, that is untrue—I asked her for a penny, not for sixpence; I got a shilling—I bought a comb, and a pair of socks for the baby—I paid sixpence for the comb, fivepence-threefarthings for the socks, and I got drunk on the farthing—they said I got drunk with the shilling, but I could not get very drunk with that—I do not mean that I spent a farthing in drink, or any portion of the money; I bought a comb, which the child took away with her—I did buy some drink that night—my husband gave me the money, but not to get drunk on—I am not going to tell you if it was my housekeeping money—I took a glass after my husband struck me—I got money from my husband at night, when he came home—he gave me money before he asked for Eliza—it was for housekeeping—I did not go and get drunk on it; I am not a person that goes out drinking, I can assure you, although I have got that character from you aud other people

—I was locked up by the police for being drunk and disorderly, and that is not the first time, once was ten years ago—altogether I have been locked up three times—it is not true that I have been locked up and fined for using obscene language in the street—I do not use obscene language, but I was fined for it all the same, and I paid my fine—I was an intimate friend of Mrs. Broughton's before this happened in June—I only knew her as a neighbour—I mean that I was on good terms with her—she never called me Nancy; I called her Mrs. Broughton, and she called me Mrs. Armstrong—I never saw Mrs. Jarrett before she came to get my child—I saw her once when I was looking out of my window, but I should not recognise her again—I saw a person on crutches; I could not recognise her—that was a long time ago—I did not know her as Mrs. Jarrett or as Mrs. Sullivan—I mean that Mrs. Broughton has since told me that the woman on crutches was Mrs. Sullivan or Jarrett—when she said that I said I had often seen her she told an untruth—she asked if Eliza was a "pure" girl, and I said yes—I am quite sure that Jarrett asked if Eliza was a pure girl—it was a lie if I said "Never," when you asked me in the police-court—she did not mention boys in the street, she asked if Eliza was a pure girl, and I asked her what she meant—I do not know I am sure why I told a lie; I must have forgotten—I do not drink much—I know the Marquis of Anglesea—I do not go to a public-house in Kendal Street; I never make a practice of going to public-houses; if I sent for a drop of beer I sent to the public-house for it, sent the children—I used to send Eliza to the public-house if I wanted a drop of beer—I never allowed my children to come to a public-house; if I went out marketing on Saturday night, all my children were in bed—Eliza has gone for my beer, but never danced about in a public-house—they would not allow boys and girls to dance in their back parlours—it is certainly not true that she danced in a public-house; it would be rather a peculiar place to dance in—I had opportunities of talking to my daughter quite freely when in your house—no objection was made to my daughter being given up to me—as soon as I said "I want my daughter," my daughter was given to me—your wife left us alone so that we could talk quite plain—when I was talking with your wife and Eliza I said the examination was a great liberty, and she said that as a rule it was done—I said to Mrs. Stead "It is a great liberty having my daughter examined," and Mrs Stead said that it was usual—my daughter was in the back garden, and I was talking to your wife—your wife said as a rule children were examined—she did not say by a doctor or by a midwife—I said to your wife that it was very wrong taking my daughter to the midwife; of course it was a wrong thing, and I said it was a cruel thing to do, and that I had never heard about such a thing being done before—that was all about the midwife, the way she was taken to Milton Street—that was about the midwife and not the doctor we were talking about—I meant by a midwife when I said about such a thing, I never took her to one—I said I never heard of such a thing being done before—I was alluding to the midwife—your wife said such things were sometimes done—I cannot swear whether she did or did not say it was an ordinary thing to be done—she said as a rule it was done—I remember "as a rule"—I believe Eliza was walking about in the back garden then—I said I had been to see the midwife—I know she went into the back garden, but whether before or after I will not swear—I don't recollect telling

your wife how you went to Milton Street; I might have told her about the woman who talked so queer broken English; I can hardly recollect—Eliza might or might not have said "That is the woman that examined"—I never said a word to Eliza about such examination; I could never look at a child and make such a remark—I may not have talked about the examination to my daughter—to your wife; not to my daughter—I cannot say if I described the room to my daughter, and described the woman who talked so queer in the presence of your wife; I am very forgetful—I might have said "Yes, that is the woman;" I have got a very bad memory—I have not asked my daughter now—I learned from Mr. Thomas that he knew Jarrett, and knew her to he a bad woman, the day we went to the Mansion House—(The ATTORNEY-GENERAL: That was the 19th July)—he told us like this: it was not the first girl she had taken away under the same circumstances.

Re-examined. The clothes were not what have been called swell-looking clothes, but very neat and very quiet; I am sorry now I did not bring them with me for you to see—they can be produced—there was nothing to make a girl look flashy, but the same as you would dress a child to go to Sunday-school—the first time I was fined was nine or ten years ago; the second some two or three years ago; and the third on this night—one fine was 10s. and the other two 5s.—my husband is a strong-tempered man, and hits me sometimes—I don't know of my own knowledge what price the four things that were fetched came to—as far as I could I have never been in the habit of sending my children to public-houses to fetch beer for me, or letting them go with me there—I have brought them up as well as I could—I have sent them to day-school and Sunday-school, and never let then run about the streets—I have done the best I could for my children, and likewise my home—my eldest daughter was working at the same place—then the mistress asked her to stay on in the house, and I and my daughter talked it over with the mistress; she was saying what a good girl she was, and she wanted her to stay in the house and do the ironing—I agreed to her going there—that was a few months ago—the person who kept the place before lives a few doors away now, and sold the business; that was the person Eliza, worked for—I told Jarrett where Eliza had worked before, and told her she could have a character—she said she did not require a character; she looked like a girl that would suit—girls of 17 or 18 get more wages than girls of 13—you could not get a girl of 17 or 18 for as little as half a crown a week—Mrs. Lord, her sister, told me that Margaret Fann had been going to Mrs. Jarrett's service some little time after Eliza went away, after I had got the first letter Mrs. Broughton brought me, before I saw the Pall Mall Gazette; some time between the child's going away and the 6th July. (The ATTORNEY-GENERAL read portions of the article which appeared in the "Pall Mall Gazette" of 6th July.) The two school trips to Richmond and the one to Epping Forest were the places to which the children had gone—I knew it; she had never been in the country except on those occasions—I saw this on Tuesday after the Monday—I went to the Magistrate next day—I saw Mr. and Mrs. Broughton when they were at tea on Thursday night—I asked her for the letter the next day before I went to the Magistrate—the Magistrate sent the inspector direct to Mrs. Broughton for the letter—I did not get it—I said there was something in the Gazette that led me to believe it was my child, and then Mrs. Broughton

said "Oh no, Becky would not do a thing like that"—I now recollect I never saw those verses, and never heard my daughter say those verses before she went away, and I never saw them in any writing of my daughter's before I got the letter of the 22nd July—in the letter I wrote back on the 4th August, when I asked my daughter "How you came to know that little rhyme that you wrote in your letter you sent to me?" I referred to the verses in that letter; that was what I meant—Borner and Conquest were present at the interview I had with Mr. Bramwell Booth—I went to him on another occasion, but he would not see me—I had no other conversation with him except on the 1st August—except what Mr. Bramwell Booth said about a doctor's certificate, I had not heard anything about my daughter being examined at all until she came back—until I got that letter, the "Chief Director," handed to me by Mr. Thicknesse on the 1st August, I had never heard Mr. Stead's name in my life—I did not know, except from what they told me, who the Chief Director was—Mr. Thomas keeps a home at 200, Euston Road—he is the manager of the home—I had known Mrs. Broughton in the place living with her husband in our street two or three years—I did not know anything against her either as to her moral conduct or anything about her before my child went away; and when she told me Becky was a genuine woman I believed her—Mrs. Jarrett seemed kind to the child on that Wednesday when she was there with her—Mrs. Stead said to me at the beginning of the conversation at Wimbledon that Mrs. Broughton was worse than Rebecca Jarrett—I do not remember saying anything to Mrs. Stead about children she had taken away—with the exception of that one shilling which was handed me by Mrs. Jarrett in the way described, I did not receive a farthing—I had no hope or promise of money made to me, or anything else—Mrs. Broughton received a sovereign—I heard that on the Wednesday; she told me she gave it her out of kindness for sheltering her when she was ill—I asked Mrs. Broughton no more about the sovereign—she told me Jarrett owed her a lot of money—she said she had kept her a long time after her illness, after she came out of the infirmary—she told me she had been in the infirmary for I think she said a broken leg—I asked nothing more about the sovereign—having received that account of it I felt no anxiety or suspicion about it.

By Mr. Stead. I read this article which has just been read over, on the 9th of July—with the exception of two trips to Richmond and one to Epping Forest, my child has never been in the country in her life—I identified my daughter by that passage—I knew about the school trips when I went to the Magistrate at Marylebone—the Magistrate never asked me about that—I have mentioned them since—Mr. Thomas has not put them into my mind since; I have not seen Mr. Thomas—the police did not—I have heard from you about the school trips to-day for the first time—the connection between my daughter and the school treats came into my mind then, although I did not mention it then—when asked how many things led me to identify "Lily" with Eliza at the police-court it was in my mind, and I did not tell you—there are not other things in my mind I have not told you—the fact that another girl had been asked to go with Jarrett before my daughter was taken led me to think this story had connection with me—I had thought of that concidence before—those things have been spoken of to-day here; not at the police-court—it has been

found out since—I found it out—it is found out now—I do not know if it was in my mind when I was at the police-court; I have been too much worried over this—when I went to Mrs. Broughton to tell her of what a shock I had got I did not read the article over to her; I told her about the article—I told her of two or three things in the article which made me think it was my daughter—I did not tell her what—I did not tell her one of the things was I was a drunken woman, or that she was a brothel keeper—I told her something in it made me think it was the child—I did not tell her what the something was—she cannot read—her husband had told her about it; he cannot read either—I don't know if she was told about the story of "Lily;" she was told about the Gazette—when I went to see her she might have known something about the Derby Day story—I didn't know she had received money for my daughter—I never said anything to her—I never mentioned any of the circumstances in the article to her which led me to believe she was a wicked woman—I stood—I did not speak angrily to her—I spoke friendly to her—I did not think at the time that that woman had been taking my child away for an infamous purpose—I thought she let her go kindly at the time, and then afterwards it turned cut otherwise—I don't know what to think—I did not when I went to Mrs. Broughton's accuse her of having got 5l.—I did not ask Mrs. Broughton if she had got 4l. or 5l.—it would indeed have relieved my mind very much if I had thought it was not my daughter—if I had as much sense as you I would have talked to her, and challenged her with her guilt—there were two or three things in the Gazette made me think it was my child, and it will turn out it is—that is my business why I did not ask her—I don't know—perhaps some one else got the money instead of her; perhaps Jarrett had it—I don't know why I asked Mrs. Broughton no question—I did not ask Mrs. Broughton more particularly about Rebecca's character—I thought she knew all about her being a respectable woman; she said she was—very likely I understood what was meant by a bad woman; that she kept a bad house, and got young girls for prostitution—Mrs. Broughton did not know if Mrs. Jarrett had been getting any young girls—I did not ask her—she did not know what she had been doing since she left her place—I did not ask if she knew she was an old hand at procuration—I took trouble enough to ascertain what were lies and what were truth—what was the good of talking to a woman who cannot read or write—I didn't read it to her—I never thought of asking Mrs. Broughton, even if she had received money after my daughter had been taken away from Jarrett—Mrs. Broughton told me Mrs. Jarrett owed her a lot of money—there are letters to prove it; she has got letters—Mrs. Broughton told me Jarrett owed her some money, and that was a sovereign for it, and she would pay her some time when she got better off—Mrs. Broughton never told me it had been paid—I had not the article with me when I went to Mrs. Broughton's.

ELIZA ARMSTRONG (Re-examined by the ATTORNEY-GENERAL ). Mrs. Jarrett bought for me to put on before I left home boots, a frock, trimmings for the hat, and the scarf—3s. 1 1/2 d. was paid for the boots; I think 8s. 6d. for the frock; 4s. 6d. for the hat and the trimmings and the feather, and 2 3/4 d. for the scarf—that was all bought before I left home—afterwards for the chemise I think 1s. 0 1/2 d. was paid; the drawers I think were 1s. 0 1/2 d.; I think the stockings were 6 3/4 d.—they were bought after

I had been at Albany Street—I know nothing about the price of the cloak—it is the cloak I have on.

Monday, October 26th.

ANN BROUGHTON . I am the wife of John Broughton, and have been married 10 years the 7th of next November—I am now living at 37, Charles Street, Lisson Grove—I have been living there with my husband since 21st September three years, and occupied one room—I have no children living—I was formerly employed at Claridge's Hotel, and used to go there daily to work—the prisoner Rebecca Jarrett was a monthly servant there employed as an ironer—that was the first time I knew her—I left there last January twelvemonth—Jarrett had left as near as I can guess two months before—she slept in the hotel—we were employed there together as near as I can guess from two to three months—she left because she was taken bad with a diseased hip—when she left she tried to get into the Mount Street Workhouse; she could not get in there, and I took her home—on that occasion she stayed with me as near as I can guess about a week—she shared my room and boarded and lodged with me—after that she went to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and then she came back and lived with me again for about a week—she then went to the New Infirmary, Notting Hill—she sent me a card to come and see her—she used to write post cards; she wrote one letter—I cannot read or write, nor my husband either—my husband is a handy man employed at Mr. Stokes's; he has been employed there from 20 to 21 years—Mr. Stokes is the secretary of the Marylebone Association for improving the dwellings of the industrial classes—when I received these letters and post-cards I had to get them read to me by the neighbours—since this case commenced I have looked up all 'my letters and papers—I always knew her as Rebecca Jarrett—these are the letters that I gave to Mr. Von Tornow that I received from Rebecca Jarrett from different places she has been in—I did not answer these letters myself, but after receiving them I went to see her at the New Infirmary and Bartholomew's Hospital—I saw her last about nine months before the beginning of June last—she was lame and walked with a stick—she came to see me at Charles Street—she told me she was in a place—early in June this year she came to see me; I thought it was on the Monday—she knocked at the door; I was in the yard, and I went to the street door—I said, "It is you, Becky"—I then asked her into my room—she said, "Good morning, Nancy; how are you getting on?"—I said, "Middling; how are you getting on?"—she said, "Middling-like"—I said, "Are you in place?"—she said, "No, I left that place, and I was out of work looking for a place, and I came across a commercial traveller," and she had got married to him, and was stopping with a friend of her husband's at Albany Street—she said she occupied a six roomed house at Wimbledon, and she wanted a little girl to clean around the carpet and the oilcloth, and asked if I knew of one—Jane Farrer was in the room; she was in the room before Jarrett came in, and I turned round and said, "Jane, will you go to place?"—she said, "Yes, Mrs. Broughton"—Jarrett turned round and said, "She is too big; how old are you?"—Jane paid, "Nineteen"—Jarrett said, "You are too old and too big, I want one younger than you"—Lizzie Stevens was going through the street, and I called her into my room—Jarrett asked how old she was—Lizzie said "Sixteen," and she said she was toe

old, she only wanted a girl to clean round the carpet, likewise the oilcloth on the staircase, to save her from kneeling, as she was afflicted—Lizzie Stevens then left the room and went out—and then Eliza Armstrong came in about five minutes after Lizzie Stevens had gone out—I knew Eliza Armstrong, just as a neighbour's child—she knocked at the room door and said, "Mrs. Broughton, where is the person that wants a servant?"—I said, "There she is, Eliza"—she says, "I should like to go to service"—I said, "Where is your mother?"—she says, "My mother is upstairs"—I says, "Go and fetch your mother"—she went out, and I never saw any more of her until the afternoon—this was in the morning—Jarrett said nothing after she had gone out, except that she would not take her without the mother's consent—Jarrett remained with me until four o'clock in the afternoon—she came in I believe between ten and eleven in the morning, and was there all day until 4 o'clock—she told me she was staying with a friend of her husband's in Albany Street, and before she went away she said she was that way the next morning, and she would call and see me—I saw Mrs. Armstrong that day in the evening about 7 o'clock—I said, "Mrs. Armstrong, there is Rebecca Jarrett, that used to come down to me from St. Bartholomew's Hospital, has come to ask me to get a girl for her to clean about the house for her"—she then turned round and abused me, and said, "I won't have people coming after my child; I am not going to let my child go for any b—wh—, I am not going to let her go to a b—service," and I was to go and b—myself—she was the worse for drink—the next day she said she was very sorry for having made use of the language—the next day, Wednesday, Jarrett called upon me again between 10 and half-past—she said, "Good morning, Nancy"—I said, "Good morning"—she said, "Did you get me a girl?"—I said, "No; cannot you go to a baker's shop"—she said, "Don't you know a nice little orphan girl that would be glad of a good home?"—I said, "Well, there is one up the street in the same house as Mrs. Armstrong is"—I went to Mrs. Armstrong's house, and saw her looking out of her own window, the first floor front—I said, "Mrs. Armstrong, I am going to see if Alice West would be glad to go to service"—she is a niece of Mrs. Woodward, and lives in the same house as Mrs. Armstrong—Mrs. Armstrong said, "Wait a minute, I want to speak to you"—she came downstairs and said, "Where is this person that wants a servant?"—I said, "She is sitting agin my room door," and I says, "You had better come down and see her yourself"—Mrs. Armstrong said, "My Eliza has been teazing me all the morning about wanting to go to the service"—I told her to come down herself to make an agreement with Jarrett—she told me not to take Alice West; she was too full of vermin—I said nothing to that—Alice West is about 15—Mrs. Armstrong went to my room where Jarrett was—she had her things on—I said she was the mother of the girl who came in yesterday—Mrs. Armstrong asked Jarrett if she was the person who wanted to take the girl as a servant—she said, "Yes. Are you the mother of the child?"—Mrs. Armstrong said, "Yes"—Jarrett says, "Are you willing to let your child go?"—Jane Farrer was in the room at the time—Mrs. Armstrong said, "What do you want her to do?"—Jarrett said, "To clean the carpet, and likewise the oilcloth on the stairs and hall, as I am occupying a six-roomed house at Wimbledon"—Mrs. Armstrong turned round and says,

"Well, my Eliza shall go, if it is for a servant you want her"—Mrs. Armstrong asked how much she would give her a week—Jarrett said she would not give her anything for the first month, but she should buy her clothes—Mrs. Armstrong heard that said—after the first month she should give her the money into her hands—with that she asked if she had any more tidy clothes—Eliza came in immediately after her mother—she heard all this conversation—at first only Jane Farrer was there—Eliza came in directly after her mother, and stood at the side of her—Jarrett asked Eliza if she was willing to go, and she said "Yes" she said she was wanting a girl only to clean, because she was afflicted—Rebecca Jarrett asked the mother if she had any tidy clothes, as she was willing to let Eliza go—Mrs. Armstrong said she had an old jacket upstairs and a felt hat—Jarrett looked at Eliza's feet, and asked her did she have any other pair of boots—the mother said "No"—Jarrett said again to Mrs. Armstrong "Are you willing to let her go?" and to Eliza "Eliza, are you willing to come to me?"—she said "Yes"—the mother stood by and said nothing—Jarrett said again to Mrs. Armstrong "Are you willing to let her go?" and she said "Yes"—she then said "Mrs. Armstrong, as you are willing to let the girl go, as she has got no other clothes, I shall take her out, if you like, and buy her some"—the mother said "Very well, but what time do you want to take her away?"—Jarrett said "3 o'clock"—she said "If you are willing to let her go, and she has got no other clothes, take her upstairs, and get her ready, and send her down to me about 1 or a little after"—Mrs. Armstrong said yes, she would—Jarrett said "I am going to stop to dinner along with our Nancy"—Mrs. Armstrong left the room—before Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter left the room the mother asked Jarrett "Could Eliza write to her?" or "When could she write?"—Jarrett said "Whenever she liked;" she would take her on a month's trial, and if she did not like the place she could come home; that she would fetch her back the same way that she took her—Mrs. Armstrong went away with Eliza to wash her, and Farrar went home to dinner—Jarrett and I remained together—Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter left close on 12—she took off her bonnet, and so on, and my husband came in—on Wednesday Jarrett gave me a sovereign between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning—Jane Farrer was in the room at the time—she called me over, "Nancy"—I said "Yes, Becky"—she said "I am going to stop to dinner, and you have no money to get it"—I said "Yes, I have bacon in the cupboard, potatoes on the fire, and money in the cup"—she held her hands out like this and said "Take this, Nancy," and I said "No, Becky"—I did not see what it was—"I want nothing to get no dinner, for I have got it here"—"Take it," she says; "you have got a shawl in pawn"—I said "No"—I told her that I hadn't a shawl to my back—I told her "What did it matter to her about my shawl being in pawn?"—"Well, Nancy," she says, "I promised you I should try to pay you some day for the kind assistance done towards me in and out of the hospitals"—I said I did not expect nothing, and what I had done was with a good heart—I put out my hand, and she put it into my hand—I never looked to see what it was, and I put it behind the boards on the mantel-piece; it remained there until just between 1 and 2—I did not say more about it, and we sat and had dinner when my husband came in at 12 o'clock—the money she

had given me I put behind the vase on the mantel-piece—I looked at it when she had gone to buy the clothes—besides that money she had given me half a sovereign to get some whisky—she gave me the sovereign between 10 and 11—the half-sovereign was for a quartern of whisky; I went out and got the whisky, and got 9s. 6d. change, and that handed back to her—after dinner Eliza came back alone, and Jarrett asked her if she was ready to go with her to buy the clothes, and she took her out—that was a little after 1—she first bought a pair of boots—he mother came in while they were out and said to me "Mrs. Broughton, do you know what time they will be back?"—I said "I don't know"—she said "Go over to Chandler's to see" (Chandler's is a shoe-shop) "if Rebecca Jarrett is there, and ask her" (she called her "that person who is in the room") "What time she will be back"—I said "Very well I am going over"—I went over to Chandler's, and saw Jarrett and Eliza there, and said to her "Becky, Mrs. Armstrong wants to know what time you will be back"—she said "2 o'clock"—I came back and told Mrs. Armstrong—she said "I am going to a funeral, and I will depend upon you to see her off"—I said "Can't you stop to see her off?"—she said "I am going to see the funeral, and it might be too late"—I said "Very well, then"—she went away, and I did not see her again for some time—she was sober then—while Jarrett and Elliza were out I went to the mantel-piece and looked at the money behind the vase; it was a sovereign—I took it up and went out before they had returned to get something for tea at the baker's shop—Jane Farrer was with me—I showed her the money when I picked it up—at the baker's I bought some bread and changed the sovereign, and took the bread back-Rebecca Jarrett was standing at the street door; Eliza was gone home—Jarrett came in with some trimmings and a dress—I afterwards saw Eliza put those things on in my room—she had the new boots on—the hat was trimmed by Rebecca in my room—I had sent Farrer to the pawnshop for my shawl with some money out of the sovereign—the pawnshop was Chapman's—it was in pawn for half-a-crown—I got it out of pawn, and she brought it to me—the other things I got out of pawn afterwards—Jarrett and the little girl and myself left my house at five minutes to 3—Jarrett had a cup of tea before she went—before they left I saw Mrs. Armstrong receive some money—she came and knocked at the door—the little girl had not got the clothes on then—Rebecca Jarrett, me, and Jane Farrer were in the room, and Eliza—Mrs. Armstrong asked me for sixpence; she did not say what for; she asked me to give it her till Saturday—I told her I had not a sixpence in my possession—Rebecca Jarrett then put her hand in her purse, and turned round and said, "Here you are, Mrs. Armstrong, here is 1s."—Mrs. Armstrong said, "I thank you, that will do better"—Mrs. Armstrong then went away—that was about half-past 2 and from that to a quarter to 3—she was all right then—her mouth was cut and bleeding—she said nothing about her mouth being cut at the time—about five minutes to 3 I and Eliza and Rebecca left the house together—I went to the corner of Chapel Street, Edgware Road, to the omnibus—I had got the shawl then—I said, "Good-bye," and saw them off by the omnibus—that was about 3 o'clock—up to that time Jarrett had not told me the name of her husband. CHARLES VON TORNOW was here interposed. I saw Rebecca Jarrett twice write her name, and

I have seen the signature to these letters—in my judgment they are signed by her—one begins Sunday afternoon. Read: "Sunday afternoon, addressed to Mrs. Broughton, 37, Charles Street, Lisson Grove: Dear Nancy, I am very much surprised that you have not come to see or even wrote to me after your promise to me; but still, Nancy, if you have any fault to find with me in anything, why do not you come and tell me. I have written to you and sent you a card. I have sent Mr. Simmons when to come, but no one has come. A lady came to see me yesterday. She spoke about my box. I told her how I was placed. I have got to work, Nancy, to pay you for it, and she is going to write to you about it this week and tell you. I told her you was very kind towich me during the time I was with you; but I have not seen any one lately since I have been here, which is six weeks to-morrow. I expect to stop here a long time, so I think she is going to keep my box at her house till I get well again. But you will see what she says in your letter. Then she will tell me what you say in your letter back again, for she is coming to see me on Friday again, wich I hope you will come to some arrangement of what I owe you, so that I may come to some settling now with you. Give my love to Bash and Mrs. Simmons—" (Mrs. Broughton: Bash is my husband)" and tell her if she likes to come and see me I will send a card. I must say good-bye now.—From your grateful REBECCA JARRETT. C 2 Ward, Marylebone Infirmary, Notting Hill, London." The other letter was as follows: "Sheet Cottage, Petersfield, Hants. Dear Nancy, I do not know why you did not send the collars, but I suppose Sarah had not got the money. I have only 7s. down here, for my boot has broke again. I have had to pay 2s. for it to be mended—a brass plate on the sole and heel to hold the screw firm by. I am much better I think in myself, and my hip do feel a little stronger. I can walk a little, thank God, and I shall be quite two or three months before I shall be able to do anything for a living; so, dear Nancy, do not forsake me now. I have not a friend in this wide world but you and Sarah. If I cannot reward you and Bash for your kindness to me, God will prosper you in all your undertakings. But as soon as I am able to earn any money you shall have it, wich by God help will not be long. I have written to Miss Morley, and thank her for sending me here. I have told her what is the matter, for Miss Bonham-Carter told me Miss Morley does not think I am so bad with my hip, for Miss Morly only sent me here for three weeks, but they have given me another week to make a month. If I could get a month down by the sea-side I should get all right. They tell me here to go straight from here to it. I think if Miss Morly knew how I have no home or anywhere to go, she might get me, for Miss Bonham-Carter told me she has got a convalescent home of her own. I know she has taken a deal of trouble with me. I should have had to go into the workhouse if it had not been for Sarah and you"—(Sarah is a young girl who is gone to Canada, who worked at the hotel with us) "But if I could get myself quite well, I would endeavour to pay it all up again." (Two other short letters from Jarrett to Mrs. Broughton were also read from Hope Cottage, High Cliff, Winchester, stating, "I am so happy to tell you that Eliza is all right and doing well."

ANN BROUGHTON (Continued). I could not read, and I took that letter to Mrs. Armstrong—I left it with her just on 12 o'clock—I afterwards got it back—I heard nothing more of Rebecca—that

letter is need Rebecca, Mrs. Sullivan—that was the first time I had heard the name of Sullivan—about a month afterwards I remember Mrs. Armstrong talking to me about her child—I believe it was the 10th July—it was on a Friday morning—she said she was going before a Magistrate—I had got that letter then—I did not give her the letter, she never asked me for it—I gave it up when the officer came—on the Friday—the same day—Mrs. Armstrong and I did not have any words about her child, only she was going down to the police court to see if she could get her child home—we had no angry words—I got Farrer to write a letter for her—that was the same day—that was before I had given the letter up to the officer—they were to write so as to get the child, because she said as she was going to the court house, and the child was gone, that she would blame me for the child—in consequence of what she said I got Jane Farrer to write the letter for me—I told her what to write—I saw her write the letter—I posted it myself—she directed it—I put the stamp on and posted it at the post-office at the corner of Bell Street—the letter was to "Dear Beckie Jarrett"—it was addressed "Mrs. Sullivan, Wimbledon, near Hampton Court, likewise Rebecca—they said it was somewhere near HamptonCourt, Wimbledon was the place where the six-roomed house was—besides the letter I got Jane Farrer to write a telegram for me—that was the same day—I also received this postcard: "Saturday. Dear Nancy, I have been very poorly, but Eliza is doing right and doing well. If her mother wishes to see her I shall send her up to London with a friend of mine. Yours truly, Mrs. SULLIVAN."—I was afterwards taken to the Mansion House, and afterwards to the solicitor's office.

Cross-examined by MR. RUSSELL. The first time I met Rebecca Jarrett was at Claridge's Hotel about two years ago—she was in work there—she came there when I was in work—I had been there somewhat longer—I have left the hotel since last January twelvemonth—she left two months before last Christmas twelvemonth—I left Claridge's Hotel last Christmas twelvemonth—I left of my own accord—I did not know anything about what life Rebecca had been leading, that I swear—I and Rebecca became very intimate—she did not tell me that she had kept a gay house at Ward's Buildings, Manchester, nor at Bristol, nor close to where I live at Charles Street in Marylebone; I did not know where she kept houses—I know what a gay house is—she did not tell me at any time that she kept a gay house anywhere—I swear that I did not know that in High Street, Marylebone, she kept a gay house—High Street, Marylebone, is about 10 minutes' walk from Charles Street, where I live—I had not seen her for nine months before 2nd June—I had no communication with her between the date of those letters written from Petersfield, amongst other places, in 1883, until she came to see me in September, 1884—she said that she wrote me a letter, but I never answered it. Q. After 1883, the last of those letters being dated November, 1883, have you never had any letter from her? A. About two years ago. I cannot recollect whether I have had any letters from her since 1883, I might have had some; it is very awkward, as I did not read them myself—I cannot think whether between November, 1883, and the time that she came to see me on 2nd June I ever had any letter from her—I have got all the letters, and produced all that I have—she came to see me and called at my house about nine months before June, as near as I can guess

—she called to see me in September, 1884—I do not recollect where she told me she was living then; I do not remember whether I asked her—I do not remember whether she told me that she was living at Chiswick—she asked me about the box—I did not ask her what she was doing; I only asked her how she was getting on; how she was getting her bread I did not ask her and did not learn—I cannot say about hearing from her between September, 1884, and June of the present year, but I had not seen her from the beginning of June—I produced all the letters which she sent me—when she came in June she did not tell me what she was doing; she did not tell me what her position was, or that she had changed her name—she told me she was married to a commercial traveller, I am sure of that—the expression that she used was that she had had a slice of luck, that she was looking for a place, and that she fell in with a commercial traveller, and that she was married to him—I did not ask Becky where she had fallen in with the commercial traveller; she told me that she had come across him looking for a place—she said he was travelling about and never at one place; she did not tell me for whom, I did not ask; I did not ask where she bad met him; she did not tell the name, I did not ask—she told me in the room she was married, and then she said she was stopping with a friend of her husband in Albany Street for a week—I told that to Mrs. Armstrong after being at the Court-house—I told Mrs. Armstrong what Jarrett had said to me about Albany Street next day, the morning after Jarrett took the girl away—if the little girl has sworn that her mother told her that she was going to Albany Street I cannot explain how that happened—I did not tell the child—Mrs. Armstrong asked me where Jarrett was going to, and I said she was stopping with a friend of her husband's in Albany Street—I said before the Magistrate. Q. When Mrs. Armstrong came over on the second day to see Mrs. Jarrett did she ask her name? A. No, she did not, she asked where she was going, and I said "There is Beckey, ask her," and Mrs. Jarrett said "I am going to Albany Street"—that is correct—I am sure that she said that to Mrs. Armstrong—it is true that Mrs. Jarrett told Mrs. Armstrong that she and the child were going to Albany Street—I told Mrs. Armstrong the day after the child left that she had gone to Albany Street, because she came and asked me—I reminded her what Mrs. Jarrett said the day before, and that she was occupying a six-roomed house at Wimbledon—I never knew the name of the supposed commercial traveller, the husband, until I got the letter from Winchester—the letter which Mrs. Jarrett sent to Mrs. Armstrong is addressed as to "Eliza's mother"—she did not know Mrs. Armstrong's name without she heard me mention it in the room—I did not know what her supposed new married name was, and Mrs. Armstrong did not know it, and she apparently did not know the name of the mother of the child—the name of Jarrett was not mentioned to Mrs. Armstrong—I believe, when I went up to her, that I said that Rebecca Jarrett, who had worked with me at Claridge's Hotel, wanted a girl—I will not be sure that I called her Rebecca—I did not tell Mrs. Armstrong anything more about Rebecca on the Wednesday than I told her on the Tuesday—I am quite sure of that—I was with Mrs. Jarrett all the

time in the house; until 4 o'clock—on the Tuesday I never saw any conversation at all between Mrs. Armstrong and Mrs. Jarrett—Mrs. Armstrong never asked me whether Rebecca was a genuine woman or not—Mrs. Armstrong asked me how did I know Rebecca, and I said by working at Claridge's Hotel—Rebecca did not tell me that the girl she wanted must be a nice little girl just over 13—she did not inquire about the age at all; I am quite sure of that—Mary Plummer's name was not mentioned in my room; I am sure of it—she is my niece—I did not say at the police-court "Five girls were spoken of altogether about going, excluding Eliza Armstrong"—I could not have sworn that, because there were not five girls mentioned—my evidence was read over to me—I did not say in cross-examination "Five girls were spoken of altogether about going, excluding Eliza Armstrong"—there was only Jane Farrer, Elizabeth Stevens, and Eliza Armstrong, I mentioned, in my room; there was no one else—I do not know who put in Mary Plummer—Maggie Fann was standing at the street door—I said at the police-court "I said there is a young girl here, Jane Farrer"—Jarrett was staying at a friend of her husband's at Wimbledon—it was not Croydon—"She wanted a little girl to do house work. I said "There is a young girl here, Jane Farrer," who was in the room at the time, and I asked her if she would go"—"Mrs. Jarrett asked the girl's age," that was the first question she asked, "and on being told it was 18 said She is too old.' She did not want one quite so old. I said there was a younger one named Lizzie Stevens in Highwood Street. She was called in, but Jarrett said she was too big. Stevens was 17 years of age. Jarrett said she wanted only a girl between 13 and 14 years of age"—she said she did not want a girl quite so big—I cannot say whether that was what she said; I have such a bad recollection—I did not tell Mrs. Armstrong that the girl which was wanted was a girl just over 13—I told her that Jarrett wanted a young girl just to save her from kneeling—I said nothing about age to the mother—if Eliza has sworn that her mother told her that what was wanted was a little girl just over 13, I cannot explain where she heard it—Mrs. Armstrong neither saw me nor Rebecca on that first day at all until after Rebecca had gone, at 4 o'clock—Mrs. Armstrong came to me about 7; she was passing down the street—she called me a b—cow, and more than that—she called me it that day, and has called me it since—I do not know what she accused me for on that day, but she did use some very disgusting expressions to me, including the one I have mentioned—on the same day she had had a drop to drink—on the next morning when Rebecca came round I had no idea at all of looking for Eliza Armstrong—when I went to see Woodward's niece Mrs. Armstrong said "Take Eliza; my Eliza has been teasing me all the morning, and wants heart and soul to go to a place"—she asked me where Rebecca was—beyond asking me where she was and my telling her she was in my room, she did not ask me one single question about Rebecca's character—upon her saving "Take Eliza, the other girl is full of vermin," and so forth, I said to her "Go and make the agreement yourself, on condition that you get the name and address where the girl is going to"—I said that because I thought it would be satisfaction to her, and to me too—she had not said anything which induced me to say that—I said this because it would be a satisfaction if any harm should come to the child—I did not think any harm would come to it—it is a person's duty, or a mother's

duty, to see where a child is going when she is going with a stranger—I know that Mrs. Armstrong never did get the address, nor the name, not to my knowledge—I only got what she told me, that she was staying with a friend of her husband's at Albany Street, but that she had a four or six-roomed house at Wimbledon—the mother says Croydon—I had not the least misgivings or doubts in my mind at all about the kind of place she was going to at this time—I thought when she wanted to write to her daughter of course she need not come to ask me—I thought it would save me trouble—I had nothing bad whatever in my mind—this is what I said at the police-court: "Mrs. Armstrong said 'Wait a minute; I want to speak to you.' She then came out to me and said 'Where is the woman that wants the girl?' I said 'She is in my room.' Mrs. Armstrong said 'Do not take young Woodward, she is full of vermin.' I said 'Well, are you going to let Eliza go?' Mrs. Armstrong said 'Yes.' I then told her to come and make the agreement herself, on condition she got the name and address where the girl was going to. I said that to Mrs. Armstrong. We went together to my place, and saw Mrs. Jarrett there. I said 'Here comes Mrs. Armstrong, the mother of the girl you spoke to yesterday.' Jarrett said 'Are you willing to let the girl go?' Mrs. Armstrong said 'Yes.'" That is the order in which it occurred—if Mrs. Armstrong has sworn that on that occasion, when I brought her over to my room, and where she saw Rebecca, that Rebecca said "Is the girl pure," that is not correct—no, not such a thing was mentioned in my room, or anything of that kind—Rebecca asked me if I had seen her romping about, and I said only with boys and girls; I said only just out and about—Mrs. Armstrong was there at that time I believe—I knew this little girl, seeing her about the street—she spent the most of her time, when it was dry, in the street, nursing the baby—I have known them two or three years—it didn't strike me as odd that this strange person, strange to Mrs. Armstrong, and known only to me as a fellow-servant at Claridge's, should come in this particular street for a little girl—nothing of a bad opinion struck us about it—what made me say "Let her go on condition that you get the name and address," was I thought she was an uneducated child, and the mother would want to know about her daughter—I heard some of the conversation between Jarrett and Mrs. Armstrong—I never heard Mrs. Armstrong ask her why she could not get a little girl near her own home—I never heard anything of the kind mentioned, or whether there was a registry office there—Mrs. Jarrett offered me some coin in her hand—I did not know what it was—I stated at the Mansion House, in answer to Mr. Reid, that I thought it was a shilling; I did not know what it was, whether it was a shilling or not—I said at first I thought it was a shilling, and that I put it behind the mantelpiece—I appreciated her; I did not look for anything from her—she came and stayed with me about a week one time, and nearly a week another time, if she brought with her and spent 1l. 16s., I never saw it—I never received a shilling of her—she did not spend it partly for her own support when ill, and for what was wanted in the house—she did not bring it and spend it in the house—I did not ever make any claim on her for what I had done for her, only how she promised it to me—I recollect one of the letters read this morning, in which she makes reference gratefully to Mrs. Morley

and Miss Carter, and a reference to a box that she left in my house—it is a fact that there were two dresses taken out of that box—she told me to take them—they were cotton dresses—I did not pawn them, and I did not wear them—they laid in my place a long time—a person named Simmons, who used to live in the house borrowed them, and I have not seen them since—it is a fact that when the girl was at one of these benevolent homes, an officer from the Charity Organisation Society came to me about Rebecca's box, and paid me 10s. for keeping the box—I did not claim or wish for anything—I could not tell you whether all the letters which have been read here, the last of which is in November, 1883, were letters before the box was removed last year—I did not look to see what money it was she gave me, because I was getting my husband's dinner ready, and had no bad opinion in my mind—I do not often get money in that way—she did not, before she took away the child, give me 2l. in money, not a penny over the sovereign—it was between 2 and 3 o'clock when Mrs. Armstrong came in and asked me to lend her sixpence—if Mrs. Armstrong has said that what she asked for was not the loan of sixpence but a penny to buy something to quiet the child, it is not true; she asked me for sixpence—I recollect when she came up in the passage and was standing at the door with the child in her arms—Rebecca Jarrett was sitting near the door, and she handed something to her, but I could not tell you what it was, only by the way in which Rebecca repeated the words and said, "Here is a shilling for you, Mrs. Armstrong," and then handed something I did not see—after the child had been out and had the clothes bought, she went and washed at her mother's house, and came back—her old clothes were taken off her and the frock put on—the boots and hat were left behind in my room—the child went away with nothing except the new clothes purchased for her—the others were left in my room—I afterwards gave them to her mother the next day, Thursday; I was present when the question of clothos was discussed, and heard the mother say, "She has got a good frock and a strong pair of shoes, and clothes good enough for her to work in"—there was no arrangement when I should meet them next time or any future time—the working clothes were left loose, not in a bundle—I did not know whether the mother was going to send for them, or whether, as Jarrett said, she was coming home in a month's time—according to my view she was going away as a servant, and she would have dirty work to do—I do not know what clothes she would have if those were left behind; only the mother repeated the words, and said that they were quite good enough to work about in—that did not strike me as anything bad at all, certainly not—I got a letter from Cliff Cottage, Winchester—I got Jane Farrer to read that letter to me—there are a good many persons about the neighbourhood of the name of Sullivan—I do not know one who is a bricklayer; I am quite sure and certain of that, or a stonemason; they might be the best of characters, or the worst of characters, but I do not know them—I did not know that a person of the name of Sullivan had gone to Winchester—until you announced it I did not know any one since the time I gave it up to the chief officer; of course there might be some one of the

name—it was arranged that the child was to go away about 3 o'clock—it was arranged they were to go to Albany Street, and I saw them off in the omnibus at the Edgware Road—Mrs. Armstrong did not see the child off—she gave me permission to see her off, because of the funeral, while Jarrett was gone to buy the clothes—I did not hear Mrs. Armstrong say anything about coming round to the Board School with the key—I saw her with her mouth cut, between 2 and 3 o'clock—I had seen her earlier than that—she came in with the girl to speak to Jarrett between 11 and 12 o'clock—her mouth was not cut then—I am sure of that—if she says that her husband struck her and cut her mouth between 8 and 10 in the morning, that is not correct—she did not come in to me with her mouth cut then—between 2 and 3 o'clock her mouth was cut—I had seen her before when her mouth was not cut, between 11 and 12 o'clock—there is one letter I did not write, but I got some one to write letters for me—I never sent a letter, to my knowledge, with "Good night and sweet repose" in it—I never, to my knowledge, sent a letter with that disgusting thing. (MR. RUSSELL read to the witness a letter containing the words: "Dear Bash sends his kind love, and he hopes he will have some toast with you again")—I do not know what that means, unless it is toasted bread; it cannot be anything else—I do not know if it is—"I hope when you come home you will bring a bloke home with you"—that means a man—the Ted mentioned in that letter is Ted who used to work at Claridge's Hotel, I do not know any other—I do not know his other name—"Bash" is my husband—I do not know who I authorised to write that letter for me—I am not aware that I authorised any one to write it—I cannot think whether I dictated that letter in order that it might be sent to Rebecca—I would tell you if I could, but I cannot—I did not authorise any one to write that; I could not; it is too disgusting, I think; me write it, sir! I wish I could—before the Magistrate I heard the letter—I have thought about it several times since to see if I could acknowledge it—I will not pledge my oath that I did not ask some one to write a letter like that—I should think I think more of myself than have a letter like that written—I do not think I did direct that letter to be written—I did not do it—I would own to it if I could recollect it—it is very hard for me to say—if I directed it, you know more than I do—it is very, very seldom I ever write a letter—Rebecca Jarrett generally writes my letters—I cannot write, nor can my husband—Jane Farrer wrote the Winchester letter—I think it was Sarah that wrote my letters in 1883 and 1884—she was not living with me long; not many weeks—she did not share the room in which me and my husband lived—she earned her bread in the laundry—Rebecca and I have not talked about Sarah; nothing bad—she has got her living the same way as myself at Claridge's Hotel since I knew her, until such time as she went to Canada I never received anything but what belonged to me—I did not receive in addition two orders for 1l. each; so help me God, no; I swear that on my oath—I received no cheque, post-card, or nothing from France, except a letter from Winchester—a question was put to me at Bow Street if I received anything more—I said I received nothing except the 1l. she give me into my hand—the neighbours did not begin to talk to me of what had become of the little girl until the mother abused me—

I believe it was on the Thursday, as I took the post-card down on the Friday—the post-card, I believe, is in the gentleman's hand, and that will tell you—she abused me either that day or the day before—I say the day before—I do not know exactly—it was on the Thursday as I received a post-card on the Friday—I did not receive the post-card on the 10th June—her mother abused me on the Thursday as I received the post-card on the Friday—the letter was not received on the Thursday, and it was not that day she abused me—the neighbours never said anything at all to me, not until such time as the mother abused never on the Thursday—she abused me then as I received the post-card on the Friday—Mrs. Armstrong never asked me whether Jarrett was married or not—the child went on a month's trial not on a week's trial—Jarrett said that if the child did not like the place she could come home, and she would bring her home the same way she went—she did not tell me that she had just started a house, and that she wanted a pure girl for a gentleman I am quite clear upon that, nothing like it—she did not say that if I could help her she would pay me for it—she did not mention it in my room, not to me—Jane Farrer came in in the morning part—I was not in Court here when Mrs. Armstrong gave her evidence—she never mentioned the girl being pure, or whether she romped with boys—I do not know what girls are referred to in the letter of 1st September.

Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. After the disturbance had begun, and when my attention was drawn to it, I caused some letters to be written to Rebecca about this matter; one to Winchester and a telegram there—were three letters altogether—after the mother had accused me, in July I caused to be written to Rebecca two letters to Winchester and one to Wimbeldon, three altogether—Jane Farrer wrote two to Winchester; no, one to Winchester—I beg your pardon, there was one to Winchester and one to Wimbledon, and my brother wrote, in his dinner hour another to Winchester—I should know Jane Farrer's writing—it was not mentioned in the letter to Rebecca to ask her to send girl home as she stands, and not to give her any money or clothes until it was all over—I told her to send her home as soon as the could—I told her to put what she liked in, but to tell Rebecca Jarrett to send the child home as soon as she could—I do not remember saying "And do not give her any money or clothes until we see that this is all over"—I forget—I certainly did ask Jane Farrer to send that letter—I did not tell her to write that she was to send her back as she stood, and not to give her any money or clothes until this was all over—I will pledge my oath I did not—I suppose I must have said that—I told the mother to go and make the bargain herself—I was not responsible for it any way, as she was the mother of the child—I did not want to be blamed—I should not have considered myself to blame if wrong was to come of the girl, I should not have recommended her—I did not consider I was to blame in the matter, whether it went right or wrong, as the mother gave permission for the child to go; not on condition that the child was to be great trouble—if anything bad had happened to the child I should have been sorry to have recommended her—I should have been sorry if any harm had come to her—I was sorry that I had recommended the child after

I found that the mother was abusing me, and what the neighbours said—when I wrote those letters through Jane Farrer, I knew that the mother had been to the police-court, because she came and told me—I only knew that complaints were being made about it by the way in which the police kept coming to me—I did not tell Mrs. Armstrong what I had written; I do not think I did, nor did she tell me that she had written—no wages was mentioned, only that she would buy her clothes for the first month—I did not think that anything wrong had happened to the child. (Letter read: "Dear Rebecca, I write these few lines to you hoping you will soon be better, but do send Eliza home at once as I am in great trouble, and be surprised if she does not come back. Her mother been to the police-court to see if there are any tidings of her, so send her up as soon as you," and then there is a word which I cannot read, "and do not forget. Dear Rebecca, send her home as she stand, and do not give her any money or clothes until we see that this is all over.") Supposing that I did send that, then I suppose I meant it, as the mother came abusing me, and saying I sold the child for 5l., and I was not guilty of the crime, and saying I was a prostitute, and I had been a prostitute all my life—Mrs. Armstrong said that—she has only known me since I have been living in Charles Street—she also said that I was a brothel-keeper—Mrs. Armstrong said all that about me. Letter continued: "Until we see that this is all over. Her mother has sent for her girl's likeness to Kilburn to take it before the Magistrate to find her out. Her mother says that you was only going to give her 2s. a week?"—The agreement was not made in the room, but somebody told me that outside the street door—it was in the paper, but the amount of wages was not mentioned in my room—the question of wages was never mentioned in my presence at all; not the amount of wages—Mrs. Armstrong asked Rebecca Jarrett how much she would give her, and she said she would give her nothing for the first month, but she would buy her clothes—beyond that nothing was said about the amount. The letter says: "Dear Rebecca. She is going to summon me for she say that you give me a sovern for her." Mrs. Armstrong charged me with that. "So send her up as soon as possible. I have no more to say at present, so good-bye, your affectionate friend, NANCY BROUGHTON." Then the postscript: "Dear Rebecca. Write and tell me where I shall meet her, and what time." I was to meet her to see her straight home—the post-card was sent to me, and I heard the mother had one—Jarrett sent it—I was to meet her to bring her straight home, but I did not know what was in her post-card—she never told me, and I never told her—I had no idea what amount of wages she would be likely to get—for a girl like that I should think about half-a-crown a week—I knew that she had clothes given to her, because they were put on in my house—I do not know why they were not put on in her own house—the boots were put on at her own house—my house was not used on purpose for her to change her clothes—my house is as far from hers as the length of this Court—I do not know why the clothes were not sent to her own house, Jarrett brought them in my room with her—no reason was given for that—I did not think it odd her proposing to rig this servant out in a new suit of clothes, as she said her husband was a very peculiur man—I said at the police-court "I did think it rather funny, but as the mother

was in the room I did not interfere"—I did think it rather funny—I did not think this woman would be likely to give her more clothes; many charity ladies do that—I wrote that in my letter "Do not give her more money and clothes" from the way she pronounced it in my room—she said "Nothing for the first month, but she would give her clothes"—I did not think it was likely that she would go on finding her servant girl in clothes from any bad intention—I did not think she would be likely to give her any more clothes after she had set her up—I was not wicked-minded enough to have any bad opinion on my mind—I did not know there was any wrong going to be tacked to the poor girl—this is the telegram that I sent on 13th July: "Dear Rebecca, send Eliza home directly, as I am in trouble, for I am in fear of the police for the warrant out after Eliza"—I was in fear of the police when the mother came and accused me, and the police; that worried my mind.

Cross-examined by Stead. When I was at Claridge's Hotel I have met a man named Ted in the washhouse, worked with him—Rebecca Jarrett was sitting on the flats the same as all the rest of the servants at dinner-time—we used to romp and lark, the same thing as passes among fellow-servants—Rebecca never told me what kind of life she had led, I am quite certain she never did—I found my own grub and food there—we got no drink there—it is net true that I was dismissed from Claridge's for drunkenness; I left both times of my own accord; if the manageress at Claridge's says I was dismissed for drunkenness she is certainly not speaking the truth—it is not true that when I left of my own accord I bounced through the window; I wanted my bonnet and shawl—I said at the police-court, "and I bounced through the window;" it was a small window, but I did not jump through it; they hid my bonnet and jacket; I said I got a chair and walked right through it when Sarah Jones took my bonnet and shawl from me; I went rapidly through a window out of the hotel—after making that unceremonious exit from the hotel I did not go back again, I sent for my bonnet and shawl the next morning—I do not remember any girls that Rebecca used to tell me about of the name of Flo, or Annie, or Sarah, or Rosey, I do not know them I have never heard Rebecca talk to me about them, only when she pronounced the letter—she did not talk about the girls; she did not mention the name of Flo, Annie, Rosey, or Sarah—I never heard her talk to me about any of them as being her girls, or any one else—I never met any of those girls in company with Rebecca—I never knew that she had the management of those girls—I remember me and Becky going along the Edgware Road when a young girl came up and spoke to her; she did not introduce me, I left them and walked on—I do not know whether she was a fast girl—I did not see Mr. Thomas after the girl came home—he turned round and said Rebecca Jarrett was a bad woman—he did not say to me that Rebecca had got young girls before this, the same way in which she had got Eliza Armstrong—Jarrett was not taken in at the workhouse infirmary, because they thought she had too much money; they thought, through her living at Claridge's Hotel, that she had some money—I did not know that she had any money—when Jarrett came to my house she went to St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I believe she did leave some money with me to take care of

when she went there; I could not tell you how much it was; I gave it to her again I know—she did not give me a pound nor a half-sovereign, I am quite sure and certain of that; I think it was about 7s.—I remember taking that money and putting it in a cup on the mantelshelf—I do not remember receiving 1l. 16s. 6d. from Jarrett—I left the 7s. there until I gave it to her again; I believe it was at Bartholomew's Hospital, either that or the New Infirmary, I know it was one of the hospitals—I did not expect any money from her—I told Mrs. Armstrong, when she asked me about the pound, that Jarrett had given it to me for the kindness and assistance I had done her—I did not tell her that Jarrett owed me money—when the Charity Organisation people came to pay that money at the beginning of last year, I signed a receipt for 10s. in payment of the rent of the box—he asked me how much would I charge for the box being in my possession; I said I did not want anything—he said, "Well, how much do you think?"—I said, "Well, sir, I do not know, I will leave it to you"—he turned round and said, "Do you think half a sovereign will pay you?"—I said, "Sir, I will leave it to you," and he then paid me half a sovereign—the box remained in my house for more than six months—I did not charge anything; I would have given the box up without any money at all; I was not holding the box as security, but from mere friendliness—the 10s. cleared up everything between us—when Jarrett came to see me this last June myself and Jane Farrer were in the room—Jane Farrer was after being for an errand for me—she was in the room and I was in the yard—she had come in from an errand—I had nothing to do with Margaret Fann; I heard Rebecca Jarrett talk to her, but I do not know what she said—when Jarrett came to me I do not remember her saying to me that she had gone back to her old life—if she had said that I should have thought she meant service—she did not say that she had got a house and picked up again with Sullivan, with whom she had lived before; she never mentioned him—I never heard her—I am quite sure of that—she said she was married to a commercial traveller—I did not say to her then, "Good luck to you. Rebecca, it does not matter whether you are married or single?"—I am quite sure of that, I did not mention such a thing—I was not asked to get a girl just over 13—she did not say "I do not want a girl that has been romping about with boys in the street"—I will swear she did not tell me she wanted a girl for a man—so help me God she did not—she never said anything whatever about wanting a girl for a man in my room, and not in my hearing at all—I do not remember about a month ago being asked that question, and saying I could not swear, but she may have said it—I did not at the police-court or elsewhere say that Jarrett said that she wanted a girl for a man—I never had any doubt about it—when she asked me if Eliza had ever larked about with boys and girls I did not know what she meant; only the same as the rest of the children larking about—I did not know that she meant had she been a pure girl, and that no one had been meddling with her; nothing like that ever struck me—Mrs. Armstrong on the Tuesday night said "I will not let my child go after calling me names"—she said "You are a b—cow, I will not let my daughter go"—I do not know why she said that; of course I do excuse a woman when she has had a drop—she sometimes

calls me "Nance"—I was surprised that she should use that language, and walked indoors—I thought she blamed me for the girl going away—the woman had had a drop of drink, and of course I did not take much notice; I walked away—I do not know that she called me names which implied that she thought the place was very bad indeed; it is very excusable in a person with a drop of drink—Albany Street was first mentioned in my hearing on Tuesday night or Wednesday night; the first night before the child went away—Mrs. Armstrong was not there on the first night when the child went away—I never heard Mrs. Armstrong told about Albany Street till I told her myself the day after Eliza went away—I did not see Mrs. Armstrong on the night on which Eliza went away; not until the next morning—if Mrs. Armstrong states that she saw me on the Wednesday night she is either not stating the truth, or she has forgotten, or is wrong—I never said anything to Mrs. Armstrong about my going to stop a week in the country with Mrs. Jarrett—I never told Mrs. Armstrong Rebecca Jarrett was a genuine woman, or anything of the kind, I suppose she picked it out of the papers—Eliza was going for a month's trial—Rebecca Jarrett repeated in my room that it was for a month and not for a week—I said at the police-court that the child was going for a week on trial; she was to go for a month, and that she had to come back the same as she went—Jarrett did not say anything to me that she was to return the girl to me if she found she was not a pure girl; such a thing was never mentioned—when she said "If she did not suit" I understood by that, of course, if she was not able to do the work—I did not know what was meant by she would return her the same as she went no more than the poor mother did—I attached no bad meaning to it whatever—I said a month at the police-court—the question of scrubbing was mentioned when Mrs. Armstrong and Eliza were in the room; nothing was said about scrubbing until then—scrubbing and cleaning the oilcloths was mentioned on both days—Wednesday was the first day Mrs. Armstrong heard anything about it—when Rebecca gave me the sovereign I did not know how much it was—I said at the police-court it may have been a French halfpenny for anything I knew—I did not look to see what shape it was—I took it like this, and put it on the mantel-shelf—there were not two sovereigns there; so help me God there were not—whatshould I do with the other one?—I only found one sovereign behind the mantel-piece—I am sure and certain there was only one sovereign—when Rebecca gave me the sovereign, and I did not know how much it was, I said to her that she could not afford it—she offered it to me and told me to get some dinner, and get my shawl out of pawn; I could not tell what she said it was, I was too busy getting the dinner ready—she could have afforded a French halfpenny, I suppose—I took it from her hand and put it on the mantelpiece—I never thought of looking at it until such time as they were going to buy the clothes, between 1 and 2—I had found out what it was after buying the clothes, before she came back—I will not be sure whether I did say anything to her then; I will not be sure—I know I told her I fetched my shawl out of pawn—I was surprised when I found it was a sovereign; it was a great deal more than I expected—I believe I thanked her when she came back—I said, "Why, Becky! do you know what you have given me?"—she said, "I know, Nancy"—I

said, "Thank you; that is more than I expected"—I asked her what did she give it me for, and she said, "I promised it to you, Nancy"—I have never said this before to-day about thanking her—I did not want money for her staying to dinner—she did not say she gave it for the trouble I had been at in getting her a girl—the agreement was not made with the girl then; she asked me to get her a girl the next day—when she pronounced about the shawl I thought it might have been a half-sovereign or a sovereign; I did not know—I cannot tell any reason why I did not look at it—Mrs. Armstrong came round to my house on July 11th or 10th, or about that time—she came and read a bit of the Pall Mall Gazette, about some child of the name of "Lillie"—she did not ask me any questions about it. Q. And she came and talked to you about it? A. Yes—no one else had spoken to me about it before—I have not spoken to her since she went on to me, on the Thursday—the first time she came to me about her daughter was the time she abused me; at the same time she was posting two letters—it was after she went to the Magistrate she abused me—I have not seen her from the time she went to the Marylebone Court House to the time when she brought me in the piece of paper, after she went to the Court House—she abused me at the street door—that was on the Thursday, July the 9th, before I went to Court; that was after she had been to the Court—she had been in the morning, I think—I saw her the same morning—I was in my own room; she came into the room—she told me she was going to the Marylebone Court House, and she blamed me for her going away, and said if it had not been for me the child would not have gone—she did not stop to say that Jarrett was a genuine woman—that was the 10th; she came to abuse me afterwards—I do not know whether it was a week or a fortnight after she had come and told me she was going to the police-court—it was before I came down to the Mansion House—I was standing at my own street door—she had these two letters in her hand, and she said, "Here is Rebecca Jarrett, she has actually been trying to take another child away—another girl away"—I do not know what that referred to; I looked at her then—I never answered, I never spoke a word; I stood at the door all the time—she called me everything—she called me whore and prostitute, and said I had been a prostitute all my lifetime; and I was not married to the man I was living with, and I was only living with him, and that she would have me up, the same as she would have Jarrett up; I don't know why—that is what I looked at her for—I never answered a word, good, bad, or indifferent—it was in the street—every one was there, the place was crammed—I never said a word, so help me God—I thought I would leave her to say what she liked, and I went down afterwards to the Marylebone Court House—I thought I would not answer her as she came and took on so—she said I sold her child for 5l., and I was a drunken brothel-keeper—she has not said anything abusive to me since—we are friends so far as we speak while we are on this occasion, like good morning or evening. Q. Do you think that Mrs. Armstrong received one pound? A. I could not swear to what I did not see—I did not see Mrs. Jarrett follow Mrs. Armstrong to the door of the room—I saw Mrs. Armstrong take something from her purse and put it in her hand—Mrs. Jarrett sat close to the door—I saw Rebecca put money into her hand only—I heard Rebecca repeat the words, and she said, "There's a shilling"—she may have done it without my seeing

it; as I was about the room I did not see it, and what I did not see I cannot say—I went to the Marylebone Court House and told the warrant officer, and he told me to go down on Friday morning and apply to the Court—I did do so, and it was Mr. Cooke who sat, and I told him the state of affairs—I never took steps to explain to Mrs. Armstrong that I could not have been the person referred to in the Pall Mall Gazette—I never read the article—I only know what I heard one and the other say is in the Pall Mall Gazette—I beg your pardon, Mr. Thomas came in one Saturday morning—he read it to me all through—I very near dropped to hear such a thing, me being accused of selling a child for 5l.—that was some time after the mother accused me—I was very much astonished; for a woman not guilty of the crime to be charged with it; and then not only that, to be put down as a prostitute and a brothel-keeper—there was no truth in it; I never procured a child, and never kept a brothel—I have only the one room, and I pay 3s. a week for it—Mr. Thomas came in the room and I told him—Mrs. Armstrong has only called me names on two occasions: first when she called me a b—cow, on the Monday night; because she abused me I went to the Marylebone Court House—I was the worse for drink on the first occasion.

By MR. WADDY. When the girl went away I had no address of her, and did not expect to see her for a week or a month—I agree with Mrs. Armstrong that the clothes in which she went away would be properly described as nice Sunday clothes—I did not expect the girl to go and begin her work at once, if she was going to a place in Albany Street, and from Albany Street to Wimbledon.

Re-examined by MR. POLAND. It was on the Thursday, the 9th, that Mrs. Amstrong said she would have me up, and Jarrett as well; the same occasion that she abused me about being a drunken brothel-keeper—she said she was told that I was never no good—I went the same day to the police court—I went before the Magistrate the next day—I went up to the Court on the Thursday but did not go before the Magistrate because it was too late—I went again the Friday, next day; I saw the Magistrate then—I was too late on the Thursday—I told him what I knew about it—I went because I had been abused—Mrs. Armstrong was not there at the same time on Friday—I went at 10 o'clock in the morning—I went of my own accord, and the police officer told me on the Thursday to come down on the Friday—Mr. Thomas read the whole of the article to me before we went to the Mansion House—he called upon me on the Saturday morning, and read the whole of the article—I cannot read nor write—I told Fairer to write as soon as she could to Rebecca Jarrett and tell her to send the child home—I told her generally what to say—I waited while she was writing this down—she read it over to me after she had written it; then she directed it, and I posted it.

By the JURY. Mrs. Armstrong did say she would not let her daughter go for a b—whore—she called me a cow—she said she would not let her child go for a b—servant—I am clear about that—I never mentioned about b—wh—; that is a misunderstanding.

Tuesday, October 27th.

CHARLES ARMSTRONG . Eliza Armstrong is my daughter, and I live at Charles Street, Lisson Grove—I was born there, and lived there ever since—I am a chimney-sweeper by trade, working on my own account—

before that I was in the militia—I was discharged for weak eyes, with a character of 21 years pretty well, a full corporal, a good character, no scholar whatever—I was not at home when my daughter went away—it was on a Tuesday I think, Tuesday or Wednesday between 11 and 12 o'clock—I was not at home at breakfast time—I did not come home before 11 o'clock—I had breakfast with my daughter Eliza—that morning I had some words with my wife—she wanted to go to a funeral, and I said she should not, and she said she would, and of course we had a few words, and I struck her, and I was Tory sorry afterwards that I had done it—that was at eleven o'clock; it might be a little after—then I went out again to work—I got back again between seven and eight; it would be nigher eight o'clock—I saw my wife upstairs—I was going to work, and I said, "Where's Eliza?"—she says, "She is gone to service," and I says, "What?"—she said, "She is gone to service; she is gone to Croydon"—I understood it was Croydon—she says, "Mrs. Broughton has recommended her; a young woman, a lady, a fellow-servant at one time; she was very well off, and got married to a commercial traveller"—I said, "Why didn't you stop until I came home, and ask my leave," and we had a few more words—I struck her, and she went out, and I went and washed myself—I struck her again the same night for letting my child go away without my lief—I had not known before I went out in the morning that she was going away—Iater in the evening I heard my wife was locked up, and I went and got her bailed out quick—I went to the landlord of the public-house to bail her—some time afterwards I heard something, and I went over to France—I don't know if it was in August or July—it was on a Wednesday I know—it was a long time afterwards—I went to France to own my child—I wanted to see her—I did not find her—I cannot read nor write.

Cross-examined by MR. RUSSELL. The morning that my child left I went out about half-past 5 in the morning—I come back every half-hour or hour sometimes, and sometimes in an hour and two hours—I am not able to recollect that particular morning—I came back at 11 o'clock to have my breakfa