Some excitement was caused in the Whitechapel-road on Saturday morning by the appearance of a two-horse van belonging to the Great Eastern Railway Company being rapidly driven towards the London Hospital. On the floor of the van lay the body of a man apparently dead. The body was covered over, but the face was exposed to view. A police-constable and four workmen were also in the van. The van, though driven at such a rapid rate, was followed by a crowd, which gradually increased in size while on its way to the hospital. Inquiry at the London Hospital elicited the fact that the man's name was Robert Tibbs, aged 55 years. He had nearly all his lifetime been employed at a florist's in Cheapside. Recently, however, business had become very slack, and it was found necessary to discharge some of the employes. Tibbs was one of the men who received notice to leave. This apparently preyed on his mind, and during the past few days it was noticed that his manner was strange. On Saturday morning, however, Tibbs, his brother, and a nephew went to Liverpool-street Station for the purpose of going into the country for a holiday. Tibbs seemed to be perfectly rational; and before entering the station they had a glass of wine together. While standing on the platform, however, Tibbs, without a moment's warning, threw himself before a train that was entering the station. Both his feet were cut off, and when picked up he was unconscious. He was at once conveyed to the London Hospital in a goods van. It was there found necessary immediately to amputate both legs. This was done, but the unfortunate man died shortly after the operation had been performed.
THE series of atrocious murders in the East-end of London is a fresh and terrible reminder of the capacity of humanity for evil, and of the facilities which our congested centres of population offer to the commission of the wildest crimes. In ordinary cases the ordinary methods of detection suffice, or approximately suffice, to unearth the authors of crime. When cupidity or revenge actuate the murderer some expression of feeling or some exhibition of stolen goods give the police a clue by which to disentangle the skein of motives and to lead to the individual upon whom they worked. In the problem now presented to Londoners the common data of guidance are lacking. Revenge against the class of street-walkers does not appear a sufficient incentive, and cupidity of any intense nature can scarcely be gratified with the spoils of a woman whose purse prevents her from obtaining the squalid shelter of a Whitechapel lodging-house.
It is clear that inquiry into the extraordinary must not be controlled by the ordinary. Search for the criminal or criminals who have perpetrated the demoniacal outrages now afflicting the public mind must take unusual lines. The police believe, we are told, that some madman at large is the murderer of the four women who have recently been hacked into death in the very thickest centre of our population. It may be so; there are many indications to justify the assumption. Yet. with probability on that side, we must not allow ourselves to be rashly dominated by a theory however simple it seems. There is a contagion in murder as there is in suicide, and every student of psychology knows how some strange and impressive self-immolation draws behind it a train of imitative crimes. A man hangs himself at Peckham, and boys emulate the action on the lamp-posts of Camberwell. It is, therefore, within the range of possibility that the first morbid genius of Whitechapel has his methods adopted and his schemes worked out by another or other less imaginative followers. A trust in the not too utter depravity of human nature would induce us, however, to accept temporarily the theory that one monster only is responsible for the horrors with which London is now surfeited. It behoves every man, then, to consider in what direction discovery of the savage is to be attained, and we believe that a consideration of some medical and physiological facts relating to the ways of demented persons might not be altogether futile.
The broad data are these: 1st. Women of a certain unfortunate class are the victims; 2nd. The character of the crimes is maintained throughout; 3rd. The operator shows considerable facility in the use of the weapon.
He makes his war only against the class euphemistically denominated unfortunate. We are here confronted with the possibility of monomania, directed for one reason or another against street-walkers. The kind of journalism which has recently been popularised in London by a certain newspaper has tended to concentrate on the sexual relations an utterly unhealthy attention which cannot have failed to have its aberrant effect on badly balanced minds. A man so constituted as to be capable of imagining that humanity, however unwillingly, would benefit by his purificative efforts may as well feel compelled to exercise his calling in Brick-lane as in Northumberland-street. On the other hand, the man may, instead of a fully developed monomaniac, be a mere epileptic subject, in whom every sexual consideration arouses homicidal impulses.
Although medical jurisprudence tells of no cases analogous to those which have now shocked humanity, it is a well known fact to students of insanity that epilepsy is often induced by amatory desires of an inordinate nature. During the epileptic seizure the whole nervous system is thrown out of gear as our telegraphic apparatus is disordered in a thunderstorm, and the subject becomes not only irresponsible for his acts, but practically unconscious of them. The fit, which is usually a series of convulsions, may be replaced by an impulse towards murder or suicide which springs involuntarily into the mind, and is irresistible. Neither in the case of the woman Nichols nor in the more recent and even more painful case is there any medical statement to indicate whether the pretended purpose of the murderer's interview with his victims had reached a consummation; but this is not absolutely necessary to account for the nerve-storm which deranges the faculties. It is therefore possible that the murderer is an epileptic.
In the second place, the character of the crime, while it points, though not indubitably, to one man, is consistent with the supposition that he is dominated by one idea, and therefore a monomaniac; or that he is epileptic, and that the direction of his recurrent fits of madness is continuous.
The last consideration that seems to suggest a clue is the facility with which the murderer uses his weapon. Few men habitually carry with them knives capable of inflicting the wounds these unhappy women bear. If a man unaccustomed to the possession of a large and exceedingly sharp knife did take to wearing one on his person there are many chances that it would be discovered by somebody acquainted with him or thrown into his company. He might even, coward as we might assume him to be, so overcome his timidity as to exhibit it and procure his apprehension. Such a man, however, would scarcely have the skill to employ the knife in the scientific manner of the Whitechapel murderer. From these considerations we should deduce the belief that the murderer is accustomed to wear a great knife and that he is expert in its use. Even murderers of the wholesale kind of the East-end one do not obtain all their experience in the cutting of human flesh, so that on this point the police may be able to found some intelligible theory which might put them on the right path.
In what seems to be the methods likely to be crowned with success it is not the part of a journalist to instruct the men trained in the discovery of criminals, but we certainly do no harm in suggesting that an inquiry as to the epileptic patients in Whitechapel and Spitalfields might afford more fruitful results than are to be attained by a mere wandering up and down streets, and asking householders whether they have heard unwonted noises. There are other aspects of the case besides the medical ones which are not altogether pleasant; and here we cannot help entering a word of protest against the morbid excitability which leads people to pay and receive money, for the privilege of seeing the spot where a dead body was first observed. Another thing which our fellow-citizens in the East-end must guard against is ignorant incitement of racial feeling. There is absolutely no reason for blaming the Hebrews of the East-end because murders have been committed in a place where they abound. In Russia and some parts of Austria many crimes are charged against the Jewish people, but in England we ought to have passed beyond that stage. In the time of Henry II. Jews were sometimes killed by the hundred in the streets of London for their imaginary sins; but that, as well as the burning of Christian heretics, has gone like a bad dream. Let the mental attitudes not be resumed. It is not more probable that a Jew, rather than a Christian, is the maniac, and the dwellers in the East would do well to suspend their suspicions until there are some grounds for them.
The police are coming in for some severe criticism over those horrible murders in Whitechapel, the prevalent opinion in the locality being that, in spite of three of these atrocities having been committed, no extra precautions were taken by Sir Charles Warren to have the neighbourhood watched. On Saturday morning the police were as completely at sea when the fourth murder was discovered as they were on the first occasion, and the natural feeling among the dwellers in Whitechapel and Spitalfields is one of extreme alarm, almost amounting to panic. Some of these people, however, appear to be unpleasantly cynical in the midst of their fright.
A group of working-men were discussing the details of the hideous crime when one of their number not unnaturally remarked, "But I want to know what the police is about?" This was met with the sneering observation of a companion, "Well, you must be a fool to ask a question of that sort. Why, the perlice is too busy looking arter the changing of bus hosses in the West-end, and a-watchin' o' Trafalgar Square, to care what becomes of poor devils like us." The murmurs of approval which greeted this homely satire showed that the feeling towards the guardians of the peace is one of distrust, which it is to be hoped will be removed by the discovery of the inhuman assassin who has made life a terror in the East-end.
THE WHITECHAPEL HORROR.
CAPTURE OF "LEATHER APRON."
INTERVIEW
WITH THE
STEPMOTHER & SISTER-IN-LAW OF THE ALLEGED "LEATHER APRON."
A MAN ARRESTED AT GRAVESEND.
FULL DETAILS.
INQUEST ON THE VICTIM.
SPECIAL REPORT.
This forenoon Mulberry-street, a little alley off Commercial-road, is in a state of great excitement; everybody is at his street door, and crowds of men and women are excitedly discussing the latest development of the case. The dwellings in Mulberry-street are not of a high order, and the house No. 22 in which the person called "Leather Apron" was captured is a little two-storey erection of white bricks, in no way different from the others, and is let out in small rooms as lodgings.
On knocking at the door our reporter was admitted by an [] lady of tawny colour, and of distinctively Hebrew race. She had a great objection to the answering of queries, a diffidence which he understood when he learned that she was the stepmother of the person apprehended.
The captured man, John Piser, is my stepson. He is a Jew, but I don't know where he was born. I'm sure he was born in England, but I came here too late to know. He is 35 or 36 years of age, and is a boot finisher by trade. He has lived here since Thursday. He is unmarried, and a very simple man. He was never very bright here (touching her forehead), but he could not do such things as spoken about. I never ask him where he has been when he comes in. Though he does not live here constantly the door is always opened to him when he comes. He has been here since Thursday.
Mrs. Piser, jun., is a pleasant woman of about 30, speaking English with more fluency than the older lady. She also naturally did not wish to speak much on the subject, but made the following statement to our reporter:
My brother is not the man to commit a murder. He is an easy-going man. Why I trust him with all my children here. He has been ill, and was treated at some hospital. I don't know which it was, but they afterwards sent him to a convalescent home. He has only come back here since the end of the Jewish holidays. I know nothing about the affair except that a policeman came here this morning and asked for my brother-in-law. When he was brought the policeman said, "I want you, sir," and Piser answered, "What do you want me for?" The policeman said, "I want you for the murder of a woman in Hanbury-street," and Piser went with him without saying anything. As for the name of Leather Apron, I never heard it before. Piser, of course, had a leather apron. He worked some time for my father, Mr. Nathan.
The Press Association says: About nine o'clock this morning a detective arrested the man known as "Leather Apron," who was wanted in connection with the Whitechapel murder, at 22, Mulberry-street, Commercial-road.
The real name of the man arrested is John Piser, but his friends deny that he has ever been known by the nick-name of "Leather Apron."
When the detective called at the house the door was opened by Piser himself. "Just the man I want," said the detective, who charged him on suspicion of being connected with the murder of the woman Sievey. The detective searched the house, and took away some finishing tools which Piser is in the habit of using in his work. By trade he is a boot-finisher, and for some time has been living at Mulberry-street with his step-mother (Mrs. Piser) and a married brother who works as a cabinet-maker. When he was arrested by the detective, this morning, his brother was at work and the only inmates of the house were the prisoner's step-mother, his sister-in-law, and a Mr. Nathan for whom he has worked. His mother and his sister-in-law declare positively that Piser came home at half-past ten on Thursday night, and has not left the house since. They further state that Piser is unable to do much work on account of ill health, and that he is by no means a strong person, as some time ago he was seriously injured in a vital part. About six weeks ago he left a convalescent home, of which he had been an inmate on account of a carbuncle in his back. He is about 35 years of age, and since he was three years old has been brought up by Mrs. Piser. He lost his father some 16 years ago. At Leman-street Police-station, to which station Piser was taken, a large force of police was kept in readiness with drawn staves. Only a few people amongst the crowd outside seemed aware that an arrest had been made, and so quietly did the police act in Mulberry-street that few, even in that neighbourhood, connected the arrest with the murder.
The police at Leman-street refuse to give any information, and some officials who have come from Scotland-yard denied that such an arrest had been made, but this statement was, of course, incorrect, seeing that the arrest is admitted by the prisoner's relatives. The prisoner is a Jew.
The excitement in Whitechapel on it becoming known that a man alleged to be "Leather Apron" had been arrested was intense. The police-station was surrounded by a numerous crowd, and all over the neighbourhood the one topic of conversation was that "Leather Apron" was caught. The police, however, refuse to give any details about the matter. The man apparently has not yet been definitely charged with any offence, but is detained on suspicion. Detective Thicke, who arrested Piser (the alleged "Leather Apron"), in company with another officer, visited the house, 22, Mulberry-street, where the prisoner was found, after he had been removed to the station. They proceeded to closely question the man's relatives and friends in the house as to his antecedents and whereabouts during the last few weeks.
Interviews with several residents in Mulberry-street, which is a narrow thoroughfare off Commercial-road East, illicit the information that they all give the man who has been arrested a good character, and speak of him as being a harmless sort of person. A young woman residing next door said she had known Piser as a next-door neighbour for many years, and had never heard of his bearing the name of "Leather Apron." He had always seemed a quiet man and unlikely to do such a crime as that of which the police suspect him. She says she heard him about the yard a day or two back, but had not seen him in the street the last few days.
Whitechapel literally swarms with policemen and detectives to-day. Some of them brought in a powerful man to Leman-street soon after twelve o'clock. A large crowd followed, and it was rumoured that his arrest had something to do with the recent tragedies. As to this the police were quite reticent, and all that could be ascertained was that the man was apparently in drink, and strongly resented his detention by the police.
A representative of The Evening News had a brief interview with Detective-Sergeant Thicke at noon to-day, and was informed by that officer that when he captured "Leather Apron" the accused turned pale and trembled, but made no resistance to his capture. Sergeant Thicke and Inspector Helston are now busily engaged in procuring all the evidence they can as regards the recent movements of the accused man.
A correspondent telegraphs this morning that a man has been arrested at Gravesend in connection with the murder. Between eight and nine o'clock last night Superintendent Berry, of Gravesend, had a communication made to him that there was a suspicious looking individual at the Pope's Head public-house, West-street, and at once despatched a sergeant to the house, and the man was arrested and taken to the police-station. It was noticed that one of his hands was bad, and on examining it, the superintendent said it had evidently been bitten. When asked how he accounted for his hand being in this condition, the man said he was going down Brick-lane, Whitechapel, at half-past four o'clock on Saturday morning last, and a woman fell down in a fit. He stooped to pick her up when she bit him. He then hit her, and as two policemen came up he ran away. Having examined the man's clothing very carefully, Dr. Whitcombe, the police surgeon, was sent for, and the doctor discovered blood spots on two shirts which the man was carrying in a bundle. The doctor also expressed an opinion that blood had been wiped from off his boots. After being cautioned, the man is alleged to have stated that the woman who bit him was at the back of a lodging-house at the time. He also said that on Thursday night he slept at a lodging-house in Osborne-street, Whitechapel, but that on Friday he was walking about Whitechapel all night, and that he came from London to Gravesend by road, yesterday. This morning he states that his name is William Henry Pigott, and that he is 52 years of age. He further said that some years ago he lived at Gravesend, his father having at one time held a position there connected with a friendly society. The man appears to be in a very nervous state. Detective-inspector Abberline has arrived at Gravesend from Scotland-yard.
The statement made by the man Pigott, who has been arrested at Gravesend, on suspicion of being the Whitechapel murderer, is considered to be of such a character as to warrant Detective-inspector Abberline conveying the man to London by the 11.13 train on the South Eastern Railway. He will be formally charged before the magistrates at Worship-street, to-day, with the murder.
The Central News says: Detective-inspector Abberline arrived at Commercial-street Police-station at a quarter to one this afternoon, in a four-wheeled cab, having in his custody William Henry Pigott, the man arrested at Gravesend on suspicion of being concerned in the murder at the Spitalfields. The prisoner stands barely 5ft. high. He has a long, dark beard, and he wears dark clothes. He is without a waistcoat, and there are several bloodstains on his clothes. Apparently he has been drinking heavily, his condition indicating a recent recovery from delirium tremens. He still maintains that his hand was bitten by a woman whom he knocked down. The prisoner is now locked up in the cells awaiting the arrival of witnesses with a view to identification.
The Press Association, telegraphing at noon, says Reports are constantly arriving at head-quarters of men whose description resembles that of the supposed murderer being arrested. At present no fewer than seven persons are in custody, in different parts of the East-end, on suspicion. The police at the various centres had, however, received strict instructions from Scotland-yard not to communicate details to the Press, and it has not yet transpired whether either of the arrests is likely to lead to the identification of the culprit. The Press Association has been informed that in more than one case a brief investigation has proved that the person suspected could have no connection with the outrage, and has accordingly immediately been released.
As a strongly-marked feature of the hue and cry after the murderer, we feel bound to mention the almost insuperable difficulty there is in obtaining any information from the police. For instance, one of our representatives inquiring at the Commercial-street Police-station at half-past twelve, to-day, as to the arrest of "Leather Apron," he was informed by the inspector on duty that no official information of the capture had reached the station up to that hour.
The inquest on the body of the unfortunate woman, Annie Chapman, otherwise known as Annie Sievey, who was so brutally murdered and mutilated in Hanbury-street, on Saturday morning, was opened this morning at the Working Lads' Institute, Whitechapel-road, before Mr. Wynne Baxter. The inquiry was held in the same room as that upon the body of Mary Ann Nichols only a week previously.
Very few members of the general public were present, the great bulk of those in the room being jurymen, of whom 18 were sworn, and representatives of the Press. But this was not due to lack of public interest in the inquiry so much as to the rigour with which the attendants excluded all people who would not give a good reason for being admitted. After being sworn in, the jury viewed the body, which was lying in the mortuary in the same shell as had contained the body of Mrs. Nichols. It was laid out in a white shroud, and all traces of the terrible mutilations that had been inflicted were carefully concealed. The jury also inspected the clothing worn by the deceased when her body was found.
Inspectors Helson and Chandler appeared on behalf of the police.
The first witness called, was John Davies, the carman, who first found the body. He is a man apparently about 60 years of age, with a slightly humped back. He said: I have lived at 29, Hanbury-street for about a fortnight, and am a carman for Mr. Wisdom, of Leadenhall-market. I occupy the top room in front. I have a wife and three sons, and they all occupy the same room as myself. It is a large room. On Friday night I went to bed about eight o'clock, and my wife followed me in about half an hour. My sons came to bed at different times, the last one at about a quarter to eleven. The window of the room is a large one, and it was closed. I was awake from three a.m. to five a.m. on Saturday morning, and then fell asleep again for about half an hour. I am confident about the time, as I looked at the clock. I heard the quarter to six bell at Spitalfields Church and got up and had a cup of tea which my missus made. I then went downstairs to the back-yard. The house faces in Hanbury-street, where there is a window on the ground floor, and next to it is the front door leading into a passage which runs right through into the yard, where there is a door.
The Coroner: Are either of these doors ever locked?
Witness: Sometimes they are wide open.
Have you ever found them locked? - No.
Neither of the doors is ever locked? - No. I do not think I ever saw a lock or bolt on the doors since I have been there.
Can any one who knows that there is a latch to the door open it, and go through the passage into the yard? - Yes.
When you went into the yard did you notice whether the back door was shut? - It was shut, but I cannot say whether it was latched.
Was the front door open? - Yes, it was wide open.
Did you go into the back yard? - No; I stopped on the steps.
What size is the yard? - It is a largish yard, but I cannot say its size. Facing you on the opposite side of the yard, as you stand on the steps, is a shed in which Mrs. Richardson keeps her wood. The yard is separated on both sides from the neighbouring yards by a close fence about 5ft. 6in. high.
The Coroner: I trust the police will supply me with a plan before the next occasion.
Witness continuing. Between the steps and fence on the left hand side is a fence about three feet wide. The yard is lower than the passage.
What did you see? - I saw a woman lying down, directly I got to the yard. She was between the stone steps and the fence.
Did you stay to examine her? - No.
Where was her head? - She was laid flat on her back, with her head towards the house and her legs towards the wood shed. Her clothes were up to her groin.
Did you touch her? - No; I did not go into the yard.
What did you do? - Do? As soon as I saw that I went to the front door, and there saw two men who work at Mr. Bailey's, packing case maker, in Hanbury-street. I do not know their names, although I know them by sight.
The Coroner (to Inspector Chandler): Do you know those men have not been seen?
Inspector Chandler: They have not yet been found.
The Coroner (to witness): You must find them, either with the assistance of the police, or of my officer if the police cannot do it.
Witness: I have to attend to my work.
The Coroner: Your work is not of the slightest importance compared with this inquiry.
Witness: Bailey's place is about three doors from my lodging, and the two men were waiting outside there before commencing work. They came in, saw the sight, did not go into the yard, but ran away to see if they could find a policeman. I went away at the same time to the Commercial-road police-station to give information. I did not inform any one in the house what I had discovered. The inspector sent off some constables whilst I remained at the station. I afterwards returned to the house and saw the constables there. I had never seen the woman before.
Have you ever seen any women in the passage who do not belong to the house? - Mrs. Richardson says they come sometimes, but I have never seen them.
Did you hear any noise that Saturday morning? - No.
Were you the first to get up that morning? - I do not think so. There is a porter who lodges there and who generally leaves home about half-past three.
At the conclusion of witness's evidence, he said he had lost a day's work, and wished to know who would pay for him.
The Coroner: I am afraid you will lose a great many days before this inquiry is over. The Treasury may do something for you, but I cannot.
Amelia Palmer said: I live at 30, Dorset-street, Spitalfields, at a common lodging-house. I have lived there for about four years. I have worked for the Jews generally since my husband, who was formerly a dock labourer, met with a severe accident at the beginning of the year. My husband has been a soldier, and has a pension of 8 1/2d. a day. I do not sew for the Jews, but go out charing for them.
Do you know the deceased? - Yes, sir; well.
For how long? - For quite five years, I should think.
You have seen the body? - I saw it on Saturday at the mortuary.
And you are quite sure whose body it is? - I am quite sure it is the body of Annie Chapman.
She was a widow? - Yes. Her late husband was called Fred Chapman, and lived at Windsor. He was a veterinary surgeon. I did not know his address. He died about 18 months ago. Deceased had lived apart from him for four years or more.
Where did she live? - In various places, principally in common lodging-houses in the neighbourhood of Spitalfields.
Has she lived at 30, Dorset-street? - Yes; she lived there about two years ago with a man who made wire sieves, and at that time she was receiving 10s. a week from her husband. She always received it by post-office order, payable at Commercial-road. That payment stopped about 18 months ago. I met her about that time, and she said that her husband was dead. She said she had ascertained this fact from a brother or sister of her husband who lived in Oxford-street, Whitechapel. She was nicknamed Mrs. Sievey from her living with a sieve-maker.
Do you know the sieve-maker's name? - No, but I know him very well by sight, and last saw him about 18 months ago in the City. He then told me he had left Mrs. Chapman and was living in the neighbourhood of Notting Hill. He only lived with Mrs. Chapman two or three months. I saw deceased two or three times last week. I saw her on Monday, standing outside 35, Dorset-street, where she was living. She was without bonnet or shawl. She had a bruise on the right temple. I asked her how she got it, and he opened her dress and said, "Look at my chest." There was a bruise on it. She said, "You know the woman," and called her a name, which I do not remember. She made me understand that it was a woman who goes out selling books. Both this woman and the deceased were acquainted with a man called "Harry the Hawker." Deceased told me that on Saturday week she was with a man called Ted Stanley, a very respectable man, in a beer shop in Dorset-street. "Harry the Hawker" was also there, and was also under the influence of drink. "Harry the Hawker" put down a two-shilling piece to pay for some drink, and the bookselling woman picked it up and put down a penny. There was ill-feeling in consequence, and the same evening the bookselling woman met deceased, and struck her in the face and chest. I saw deceased again on the following Tuesday near Spitalfields Church. She said she felt no better, and should go into the casual ward until she had pulled herself round. She said she had had nothing to eat. I gave her 2d., and advised her to get a cup of tea, and not to spend the money in rum.
Have you ever seen her the worse for drink? - Yes, many times.
What did she do for a living? - She used to make crochet work and antimacassars, and sell flowers.
Is it correct to say that she used to get money on the streets? - I cannot say. I am afraid she is not particular. She was out late at night at times. She has told me so. On Fridays she had to go to Stratford to sell lace, or flowers, or anything she had to sell. I saw her in Dorset-street on the Friday afternoon about five o'clock. She appeared perfectly sober. I said, "Ain't you going to Stratford to-day?" and she said, "I feel too ill to do anything." I left her, and returned to the same street about ten minutes afterwards, and found her standing in the same place. She said, "It is no use my giving way. I must pull myself together and get some money, or I shall have no lodgings." She said no more, and that is the last time I ever saw her alive or spoke to her. She told me she had been in the casual ward, but she did not say which one. She never said she had been refused in any ward.
Do you consider her a drunken woman? - She was a very civil and industrious woman when she was sober. I have often seen her the worse for drink. I do not think she could take much without its making her drunk. She's been living a very irregular life during the whole time I have known her, more especially since the death of her husband. I never knew her to have a settled home. She told me she had a sister and mother living in Brompton, but I do not think they were on friendly terms. I never knew her to stay with her relatives even for a night. When I saw her on Monday she said, "If my sister sends me the boots I will go hopping." She often appeared downhearted, especially about her boy and girl. The boy is in a charity school at Windsor. She was ordinarily a very respectable woman, and I never heard her make use of bad language.
Do you know any one who would be likely to injure her? - No; I only know one man, Stanley, and I do not think he would hurt her.
Timothy Donovan said: I live at 35, Dorset-street, Spitalfields. I am the deputy of the lodging-house there. I have seen the body, and identify it as that of Annie Chapman, who has lodged at my house for this last four months. She was not there last week till Friday, when she asked me to allow her down into the kitchen. This was about two o'clock in the afternoon. I let her go into the kitchen, and asked her where she had been all the week. She said she had been in the infirmary. I did not see her again until about half-past one on Saturday morning. At that time I was sitting in the office and saw her come in at the front door and go down into the kitchen. I sent the watchman's "missus" downstairs to ask her husband about the bed. Annie Sievey came upstairs and said, "I have not sufficient money for my bed. Don't let it. I shant be long before I am in. Her bed would be 8d. She was then eating potatoes, and after standing at the office windows for about three minutes, she went out saying, "Never mind, Tim; I shall soon be back; don't let it." This might have been 1.45 or 1.50 a.m. She then left the house, and the watchman saw her go down Paternoster-row, in the direction of Brushfield-street. I never saw her alive again. Was she the worse for drink? - Well, she had had enough.
Could she walk straight? - As straight as I can.
Was she often the worse for drink? - Generally on Saturdays, but not other days.
Did you consider her the worse for drink on this occasion? - Yes, I passed the remark, "You can find money for beer when you cannot find money for your bed." She said she had only been at the top of the street at a beer-house called the "Ringers."
Did you see her with any man that night? - No, sir.
Where did you think she was going to get money from? - I cannot say.
Did you know that she walked the streets? - I do not know. She used to come to the lodging house on [] days with a man whose name I do not know. She said he was a pensioner, and he had a soldier-like appearance.
Have you seen her with other men? - She has come at other times with other men, and I refused her.
You only allow each woman to have one husband at your house? - Well, her husband told me not to let her have a bed with any other man but himself. She did not come with any man that night. I never saw her with a man that week. The last time the pensioner and deceased were together at the lodging-house was Sunday week, I do not know whether they left together. The man appeared to be about 40 or 45 years of age, and was 5ft. 6in. or 5ft. 8in. in height. Sometimes he was dressed like a dock labourer, and at other times he had a gentlemanly appearance. He was rather dark. I believe she always used to find him at the top of the street. She was always on good terms with the other lodgers, and I never had any trouble with her until the week before last, when she had a bit of a row with a woman in the kitchen before I was up. I afterwards saw the two women outside the house quarrelling. On Thursday, August 30, I noticed that deceased had a slight touch of a black eye, and she said, "Tim, this is lovely ain't it?" She did not say how she got it.
John Evans, watchman at 35, Dorset-street, deposed that he had identified the body of the deceased as a woman he had known as Annie Sievey from her coming to the lodging-house. He last saw her on Saturday morning last. She left at about a quarter to two, and witness followed her to the door and saw her go through Paternoster-row into Brushfield-street. She then turned to the right towards Spitalfields Church, and never returned. She was the worse for drink, but not badly so. She used to be out on the streets every night; but witness only knew of one man, the pensioner, who used to stay with her. He called at the lodging-house on Saturday about 2.30 p.m., and inquired about deceased. He had heard something about the death, and came down to see if it was true. Witness told him it was, and he then went straight away without saying a word. He had never heard any man threaten her.
The inquiry was then adjourned until two o'clock on Wednesday.
A shocking case of attempted murder was perpetrated in Northampton, on Saturday night. A woman named Davidson has been living as the paramour of a shoemaker named Cartwright, who is nearly 70 years of age. The man has been drinking badly, and the woman left him, refusing to return. He met her, on Saturday, in St. Giles's Churchyard, and cut her throat among the tombs. The police have arrested him. The woman is lying in the hospital in a dangerous state.
At the Thames Police-court, this morning, before Mr. Saunders, presiding magistrate, William Seaman, a builder, of 11, Princes-street, Whitechapel, was charged with attempting to kill and slay John Simkin, chemist, of 82, Berner-street, Whitechapel.
Charles McCarthy, labourer, of 11, Ellen's-place, Ellen-street, Whitechapel, stated about 12 o'clock on Saturday night he was walking along Ellen-street. He heard a scream in the direction of Berner-street. He went into a chemist's shop at 82, Berner-street, kept by John Simkin. He saw Mr. Simkin with his white beard all over blood. He was behind his counter, and the prisoner was standing in the shop. Mr. Simkin said to witness, "Here is the hammer he hit me with," and gave it to witness. The prisoner made no attempt to escape, and made no remark. The police came and took the prisoner into custody.
Constable 85 H said the prosecutor was dangerously injured, and was confined to his bed. When he arrested the accused, he said, "I shant tell you what I did it for, but I will tell the magistrate." He had been drinking.
Mr. Saunders ordered the accused to be remanded.
Two women waited upon Mr. Biron, at the Westminster Police-court, on Saturday, and complained that their husbands contributed nothing towards their maintenance, and now threatened to sell the furniture which had been purchased by the applicants themselves with their own money. Having ascertained that their marriages took place before the passing of the Married Women's Property Act, the magistrate informed the women that they had no remedy.
