Old Bailey Proceedings, 5th January 1857.
Reference Number: t18570105-243.
Before Mr. Justice Willes.
243. CHARLES WILLIAMS, JOHN BRYANT, and WILLIAM COLE were indicted for a robbery, with violence, upon Charles Hogan, and stealing a watch, and 15s. in money; his property.
MR. MACENTEER. conducted the Prosecution.
CHARLES HOGAN. I am a clerk to the Board of Works, and live at No. 39, Upper Bemerton-street, Caledonian-road. On the night of 17th Dec. I was in the neighbourhood of Old Kent-road, about 12 o’clock—I came by the last Greenwich omnibus that was going to the West-end; I got down at the Bricklayers’ Arms, to take a Favourite omnibus from London-bridge—I asked the coachman the nearest way to London-bridge——he directed me down the road—as I went along I met two women—I asked them the nearest way to London—bridge—they said, “If you will give us something to drink, we will show you”—I said, “You shall have anything you like to drink if you will show me”—we went into a public house, and had some wine and cakes—I then asked them to show me the way—they said, “Down that way,” pointing to the right—I went down that way—I have no recollection of the females accompanying me—I had been drinking, but I knew what I was doing—when I went down the street, the first sensation I had was blindness; I was thrown on my back, and the sight was taken from my eyes, by strangulation; I found my tongue protruding—I do not know the cause of it; all I know is I was nearly choked; I do not know whether it was by a hand, or cloth, or cord, or what it was; before I had time to think of myself, I was on my back, and choking; I could not breathe—there were men about me; I heard their feet pattering about me—there were no words spoken until I was nearly dead, and then a man, about two yards to the right of me, said, “Don’t choke him outright”—there was a hole made in my tongue, I do not know by what means—I remember my tongue protruding, and endeavouring to scream, and I could not—there was a hole next morning; it was not quite through my tongue—it was sore for about a week; it has healed now, but there is a hole still—as soon as one of them said, “Don’t choke him outright,” I found myself relaxed from their grasp a little, and I could then breathe, but I was unable to move—simultaneously a hand went into my right hand pocket, and took my watch, and about 15s. in silver—I then heard them depart—nothing was said—I was unable to move; I was on my back—I lay there for about twenty minutes, I should think—I was insensible, but conscious of what had happened—one moment longer would have killed me—my impression is that one man held me by the neck, one by each arm, and one was on my breast, and I fancy that I threw that man off into the mud by my exertions—I should say I remained there about twenty minutes, but I cannot say exactly—as soon as I was able I got up and ran, and cried out, “Police!” and “Murder!”—I met a policeman, and asked him where was the station house; he directed me to the station house at Stone’s—end—I went and told the sergeant on duty what had happened, and while I was doing so the two women that had directed me, came in and said they knew the men that did it—they gave a statement, which the sergeant took down—I am not aware that a man came into the public house while I was there with the females—I saw a man in his shirt sleeves, and I asked the publican if he kept men there for fighting—I never saw any of the prisoners before.
JANE EVANS I am the wife of William Evans, and live in William-street, Star-corner. On Wednesday night, 17th Dec., between 12 and 1 o’clock, I was in the neighbourhood of the Dover—road, with Elizabeth Atkinson—we met the prosecutor—he asked us to show him the way to London—bridge; we said, “Yes,” and went with him some distance—we went into a public house with him to have something to drink, and when we came out we were overtaken by two or three men, and palled down—I was knocked down, and Mr. Hogan—I do not think they meant to pull me down, but I fell down—Mr. Hogan hallooed and screamed—I and my friend screamed out, “You have murdered the man,” and we ran—I got through nearly to the top of Crosby-row, and laid hold of Williams—I got in front of him—I knew him as Christopher Wilks—I had got in front of them—this was through another turning into Crosby—row, just by the turning up at the back of Guy’s Hospital—I cannot say how far that was from where the prosecutor was knocked down; it was at the bottom of another street—I said to Wilks, “You have robbed the man;” he said, “I will stick my knife in you if you come any further,” and he called my friend a dreadful expression, and he sent several messages and threats to me—Cole is innocent; we met him by himself in Suffolk-street, as we were going to the station, and I believe Bryant is innocent—I cannot swear to him, but Cole I know was not there; I met him with a young woman in Suffolk—street, and told him what had occurred—I saw one of the men with a watch in his hand, but I could not swear to him—I cannot say whether he was bigger or smaller than Williams—Williams said they would say that I was connected with the robbery, and had 5s. of it—I went to the police station, and ‘gave information there of what had occurred—I had known Williams by sight for some time by the name of Wilks.
ELIZABETH KILLETT. I live at No. 3, King William-street, Star-corner. On Wednesday night, 17th Dec., after 12 o’clock, I was in the neighbourhood of Dover-road, with Evans—we met the prosecutor, and went to a public house, and had some refreshment—after we left the public house, when we were going down George-street, three young men came behind us—the tallest one pulled the prosecutor backwards, and also Evans—I ran screaming “Police!”—the three men all ran past us, but Evans caught hold of Williams—he told her he would stick his knife in her, and he also told me he would serve me worse than he had the gentleman—we met a policeman a good while after in Long—lane; we told him of it, and went back to the place where it was done, and he told us to go to the station—I do not think Cole was there, we met him in Suffolk-street, with a young woman, as we were going to the station—I know nothing about Bryant.
BARBARA MOORE. I am the wife of Henry Moore, of No. 15, Falcon-court, St. George the Martyr—I am the deputy of Mr. Castle’s, lodging house—I know the three prisoners—I knew Williams by the name of Christopher Wilks—he and Bryant were lodging in the house on 17th Dec—they left about half past 12 o’clock that night—a man came to fetch Wilks out, and Bryant went with him—I do not know at what time they returned—I saw Cole come in between 10 and 11 o’clock next morning—I did not notice the state of his clothes.
ELIZABETH ALLENSON. I am the wife of George Allenson—I am housekeeper to Mr. Castle, of No. 15, Falcon—court, Southwark—I remember being in the house on 17th Dec.—I went to the theatre, and when I returned, Chris Wilks was in bed, and Bryant, or Wallop as we called him, was lying on a form in the kitchen—that was about twenty minutes to 12 o’clock—after that a person came into the house—I do not know him—he called out “Chris”—I opened the parlour door and said, “If you want any one go to the kitchen door, you will find the deputy, she will answer you—he said, “I want Chris to go and do a garotting, in Kent—street”—Wallop went down to call Chris—he came up again with Chris, and all three went out; that was near 1 o’clock—they returned at very near 2 o’clock—I could not tell who returned, for I was in the parlour, and Mr. Castle would not allow me to go out—when I heard them run in, I heard them say, “Has anybody been here after us, is it all right?”—Wilks and Wallop were in the kitchen next morning at breakfast; I heard them talking about how much money they had got, and how much the breakfast would come to, and what their shares would be each—Wilks was telling Wallop how much it would come to, and how much he would give to Cole,. and how much he was to get for himself—Wallop said they had very nearly killed the old b—, and if so be they had known there was any more about him they might have done it quite—when Billy Cole came in in the morning for his shirt, I beard them arguing in the kitchen about how much he was to have—when Cole came in, he had mud on him, and he walked lame—some words passed between Williams and Cole, but I could not hear what it was—I heard that there was a watch, and that was sold for a pound, and that Billy Cole took the 15s. out of the gentleman’s pocket, and Wallop took the watch—they call sharing the money their “regulars”?—that was said at breakfast—Cole went away murmuring he would not work with them any more—the others remained in the kitchen all day.
Cole. Q. Did I go away before you went out of the kitchen? A. No—you were in the kitchen when I returned into the parlour—you had gone out into the yard to put your clean shirt on—I did not see Williams give you anything while I was there—Williams followed you out to speak to you.
COURT. Q. How came you to know what “regulars” meant? A. Only by hearing them talk of it in the kitchen.
EDWARD COLE. (policeman, M 53). I took Williams and Bryant, on the 18th, at No. 15, Falcon-court, a lodging house, and Cole on the 19th—the place was all in an uproar when I went in—I told them the charge, but I could not exactly hear what they said—it was dark—I got the master of the lodging house, and got a candle—it is a den of thieves—when they were at the station they denied all knowledge of anything about it.
Williams’s Defence. I have been concerned in the robbery, but not in the assault on the gentleman; the man who committed the assault is not yet in custody.
Cole’s Defence. I am innocent of what I am charged with.
WILLIAMS— GUILTY. Aged 24. — Transported for Twenty Years.
BRYANT— GUILTY. Aged 19. — Transported for Fifteen Years.
COLE — NOT GUILTY.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The Proceedings of the Old Bailey 1674-1913 Website.