Leaves of a life, being the reminiscences of Montagu Williams ..
Williams, Montagu Stephen, 1835-1892
^' ^^ .<>^. J&^ ^y^^ fc^r>^^^Ck>^ i^ rf^C^*^,..,^^ ^^-a>»— c-^— ^-""^^-^-y %j ■C-t,-^^^ €' ^r-t^ '-f^^ ^^<^^ y'^'*-^-^^^^ J'.O nri- ^^ r v-^ ^ ^^=^7 /^/^ i^^^fn:^ ./^ ^^ '^^-IX ^Y m /^^'-t^i^'^ f^ ^, ^rc^ ^^t^ // / "^ ■ ' "^ /eA^^ ^ ^ ^^^,4^ A^^^;^^ ^^^'^^^^ fpL^ui^ z^-^^-w ^.t.1^ ^ /fty^*:^ X^^ ^/^'^z^y^'/^t^ U^ Jrr.^ A^ ><^w^ C;/ ...^^-,2^ -^^z^^ ^_^ ^ ^.^5^ ^^^ '^^^4^ Xr^-c__ J 4'i,^-^i^.-'^f^ y^^^-^u-W!^ ^<rz*-<_.^^ 'n_/ /^^ ^ ^ Z/-^:^ ^^^.^ ,;,^^^ .^^ /^-^. <^ ^^^-^ ^-^ ,^-^0^...^.^ /^ A.-....^^ ^-< ^^ A^ ^^^^ -^^A THE ANSWER. 175 Dearest, I trust this matter to you to aid me. I will face my trial as an innocent man should, and I believe God will restore me to you once more after this fearful lesson ; but should he not, the file would give a chance of escape with life, while if both failed, I should still save myself from dying a felon's death undeserved. By packing these, as 1 say, carefully, sending with them a tin of milk, etc., no risk will be incurred, as my things are, comparatively speaking, never examined. Get them yourself soon, and [an indistinct word is here omitted] and direct them in a feigned hand, without any accompanying note. If you receive this safely, and will aid me, by return send a postcard, saying: 'Dear P., Captain Lefroy has returned.' Send them by Friday morning at latest. "If not P. A., get arsenic powder from Hart or other (or through Mrs. B.); wrap up in three or four pieces of paper. "God bless you, darling. I trust you trust me. I can conceal several small things about me in safety." The other letter is as follows : " 23 Oct., '81. "My ever dearest Percy, " I am writicg this, hoping that Mr. will do me the great kindness of taking it to you, because I may not have another opportunity. Eirst I must tell you that the delay about what you mentioned has 176 A WOMANS COUNSEL. happened througli our being told that only two shops in London make them, but trust before you have this it wUl have arrived safely ; if so, say in your next : ' The little basket with butter, etc., came safely.' As to the other thing, oh, my darling, my heart is almost torn with the agony as to what to do about it. To think that / should be the means of putting you out of the world, or to think that it is I who leave you to an awful fate. Darling, can a suicide repent ? What is ANYTHING compared to our future happiness or misery ? God can and will pardon all sins, the hlachest and worst, if we are only sorry and believe in His power to save ; but how about one that you have no time to be sorry in ? In any case I could not get it from those you mention, nor the A. P. from Hart. If I were alone, no rish I incurred for youe sake I should think of for a moment; but it would be dreadful for the poor little ones were I taken from them for years, as I should surely be were it traced. I thought of Julia, but do not know whether it would be safe ; say what you think. If the worst happens, shall we be allowed to see you once in a room ? It would be time then. Darling, you know I would do ANYTHING for you I could, or that would not be BAD FOR you; but your soul is dearer and more precious than your body, and my one great, indeed, only comfort will be in looking forward to the time when we shall meet again ; my love, if it were not for that hope, my misery would be unbearable. Oh, do turn to Him in this time of awful trouble ; His arms A MYSTERIOUS REFERENCE. 177 are open to you. Whatever tlie verdict of the world may be, our dear mothers will rejoice to have you ; ONLY confess all you have to confess to Him, who is able to save to the uttermost, and believe in His • love. You know you have done many wrong things, and might have gone from bad to worse if this frightful calamity had not stopped you. VOL. II. N 178 THE COJiTVICl'S YOUTH. Has anything I have ever said, or done, or left unsaiJ or undone, helped you to do wrong ? I feel bitterly that I have not been the friend I might have beea in speaking more openly, etc., but I feared to hurt your feelings. Good-bye, my dearest, dearest Percy. Pray without ceasing that you may yet be restored to us in this world. God bless and comfort you. " Your ever loving and heart-broken " Annie. "I have tried through Smith to get a witness [?J for third person, but as yet have failed . . . All I can do I will, you may be sure. My belief in your innocence is genuine, for I feel certain it was not. intended. If by any merciful chance you succeeded with the implement, how should we know, to bring you things, etc. ? " Lefpoy's friends were in the habit of referring to him as a " shy, gentle, timid, good-natured boy." H& appears to have been of a romantic disposition, and to have found his chief delight in the companionship of books. It is said that all his friends and relatives were very fond of him, and that they had been very anxious lest his delicate state of health, and the weak- ness of his constitution, should have unfitted him for hard study and physical labours. Lefroy was in the habit of constantly visiting the theatres, and he wrote one or two plays, which however, did not prove successful. Nevertheless, he A STQEY WEITTEN BY LEFEOY. 17S sometimes succeeded in getting little things accepted by- small weekly papers. The following is a short story written by him, and published after his execution : "Two Boxing Nights. " Christmas time ! There was no doubt about it. Everything and everybody savoured of it- The light of Christmas fires shone through and gleamed behind closely-curtained windows, with merry leaps, sending showers of golden sparks up dark chimneys, to emerge more bright and dazzling than ever in the clear, frosty .air^ like fleeting souls hastening through the gloom and cares of life to shine in higher regions, " * Christmas ! ' cried the bells, as they pealed softly through the still night air ; ' Christmas ! merry Christmas ! — Christmas ! merry Christmas ! ' so merrily and cheerily that he must have been a man of stony heart who did not echo it, too, from sheer sympathy. ' Christmas ! ' murmured the dark river, as it lapped against the buttresses of the old stone bridge, and then sped away with many a secret in its gloomy bosom to the sea, where, in company with many others of its race, it murmured still of Christmas ; and " Christmas time ! ' pleaded inebriated gentlemen when questioned by stern policemen as to why they were sitting in frozen gutters at midnight. For that one day a sort of universal truce seemed to be established* Creditors forgot their debtorsj debtors forgot their N 2 180 lefeoy's story (continued). creditors; wives forgot to scold, husbands to abuse, and young husbands forgot their mothers-in-law, which was, perhaps, hardest of all. Conservatives and Liberals, Churchmen and Dissenters, ' old boy'd ' and ' old fellow'd ' each other to their heart's content, and the plea for all was — Christmas! But when the world got up next day, what a change was tO be seen ! Closed blinds, no church bells, shops shut — just as if every one was ashamed of his or her last night's festivity. " There wasn't much going on indoors to-day, for it was Boxing Day — that day sacred to Christmas- boxes, bills, and last, but by no means least, panto- mimes. And to go to one of these last the children were mad with hope long deferred. Papa and mamma affected not to like or care for such trivial amusements at all, but the children — sly dogs, those children ! — knew that when once within the cosy recesses of that ' lovely private box,' no one would cry ' bravo ' more loudly, or clap his hands more vehemently than papa. And what a lot of pantomimes there were, too ! Just look at the various hoardings : Robinson Crusoe, Jack the Giant - Killer, Aladdin, and many other well- known stories had been made to contribute to the common good. But first and foremost among the brightly-coloured bills was one that informed the reader ' that on Boxing Night would be produced at the Rotunda Theatre ' the grand Christmas pantomime. Jack and the Beanstalk Then followed the list of lefkoy's story (continued). 181 characters, scenery, etc., and at the end, in large letters, ' Clown — Jolly Joe Jeffs.' " The Eotunda must have been a well-known theatre for pantomime, for that night it was crammed from floor to ceiling. Everything had gone off without a hitch. The music was pretty, scenery magnificent, and the grand ballet had been pronounced by the crutch- and-toothpick genus in the stalls to be ' splendid,' and by an old lady in the pit to be 'beastly.' " And now, out of breath with honest laughter, warm, thirsty, and packed like sardines in a box, the great audience sat anxiously waiting for the 'grandest trans- formation scene ever attempted at the Eotunda,' vide bills. If there was excitement in front, so there was behind. Every one busy, excited, and nervous, the manager and stage-manager not being by any means in that happy condition described by the immortal Mrs. Jarley as ' cool, calm, and classical.' " Inside one of the principal dressing-rooms was a man, clad in a clown's dress, pacing moodily up and down, and listening with feverish impatience for a footstep which never came. It was Joe Jeffs, and the person he was waiting for was his wife. And she was a wife worth waiting for, too. Young, pretty, and loving, Nellie Eayuor, then only — and, indeed, up to within a week or so of the present time — a ballet-girl at a West End theatre, had brought some new joy and life to honest, hard-working Joe Jeffs, who, though nearly fifteen years her senior, loved 1S2 LEPEOY'S' story {cONTmUEI)). Her with a strong and passionate love, and would cheerfully have laid down his life if it had been ilecessary" to save her from harm. And this winter, when Nellie, through her husband's influence, got en- gaged at the Eotunda as columbine, Joe Jeffi thought that his cup of happiness' was full to the brim. " A knock at the door. ' Come in,' cried the clbwn. Mr. Flies, the stage-manager, entered. Flies was a little short man, with a round red face, with very- short black hair, so short that it always stood on end, as if each hair was desirous of looking over its neighbour's head. " ' I'm very sorry, Mr. Flies,' said the clown, humbly, ' very sorry ; but Nellie told me to-night she wasn't well, and would lie down for a bit, and would come later on. I sent a boy to our place some time ago, and she must be here in a minute.' " ' Minute ! ' roared Mr. Flies, 'what's the good of a minute ? I — who the devil's that ? ' as a hand was laid on his arm. " It was the harlequin, in the bills Eoberto Tayiori ; out of them. Bob Taylor, an old friend of the clown's. •"I've got an idea," said the harlequin, givinc a kindly, unseen nod to his friend. ' Saj a few words to the public, and let my girl Bella go on for the part to- nigbt ; she's about Mrs. Jeffs' size, and I've taught her the trip long ago.'' "Miss Bella Tayiori was in the front row of the- ballet, consequently could dance wel! and look pretty ; LEFEOY's story {aONTINUED). 183 Ibut, best of all, was there on tiie spot, so to speak. The stage-manager didn't take long to make up his mind. " ' Bob,' he said, to the harlequin, ' you're a brick. The very thing. Get the girl dressed at once, and I'll get the guv'nor to speak to them.' Them being the audience, who were now in a state of noisy impatience. Mr. Flies hurried off, " ' Tell your missus it's all right, old man,' said the friendly harlequin, as he hurried away. " The clown was about to reply, when a light footstep was heard approaching. A happy smile lighted up his face. ' At last,'' he said, with a sigh of relief, as the footsteps neared the door. Quickly he turned the handle and threw it wide open, bitt only to start back with a cry of disappointment, for the new-comer was not his wife,, but the boy he had sent an hour previously; * Well,' cried the clown, ' what did she say ? '' " The boy shook his head stolidly. " ' I didn't see her, sir,' he said ; 'only the landlady, and she guv me this.' The clown held out his hand, and into it the boy put a tiny note, on which was written, in a woman's hand, ' To be given to my husband.' " ' You can go,' said Joe Jeffs, in a voice which was so hoarse and strange that for a moment it startled the lad. When the door was again closed the clown looked at the tiny missive. Was she frightened that he would be angry with her for remaining so long behind the time, and so did not eare to come at all, but wrote instead ? That must be it. With trembling hands he 184- LEFROY's story {CONTINUED). hastily tore it open, and read: ' Husband, good-bye; I' shall never see you any more. I am going away witli some one that loves me very much. You were always too good for me. May God forgive your poor lost' Nellie ! ' Nothing more. Only an old, old story, with a vulgar clown and his wife as hero and heroine. " Joe JeflFs raised his head. Was it paint alone that, gave that awful deathly look to his face and fixed glassy eyes ? Was it clowning that caused the strong man's-; hands to shake as if he were suffering from the palsy ? And, above all, was it art or nature which made that bitter cry of agony arise from the uttermost depths of a : broken heart ? " At that minute the call-boy's shrill voice was heard,. ' Mr. Jeffs, the stage waits ! ' Mechanically the clown reeled to the door and opened it, down the narrow, dark passage, and staggered through the wing on to the' brilliantly-lighted ?tage, and then, in a voice more re- sembling the croak of a raven than the utterance of a human being, gave vent to the time-honoured utterance, , ' Here we are again ! ' " How the house roared at the strange voice and staggering gait ! Such quiet humour ! So dry, very dry ! And then, after such a capital commencement, , the great audience settled down with keen anticipation, for the fun that was to come. And come it did. WitL what zest did Jolly Joe Jeffs trip up the policeman, steal the sausages, and go through the hundred and oue odd tricks which go to make up the sum total of a- LEFEOY's STOBY {continued). 1S5 harlequinade ! The ' gods ' were in one continual roar ;' even the stalls and circle were mildly excited, while as for the pit, the opinion of that black, seething mass of humanity may be briefly summed up in the words of an excited old gentleman, who, carried away by his enthu- siasm, flung his neighbour's hat into the air, crying, ' Splendid, sir, splendid ! Grimaldi was a fool to Jolly Joe ! ' And tumbling, grimacing, tripping up, now dancing on a] spade, a minute later cracking sly jokes, the clown went through it. Only the clown, though, for God's beautiful creation — man, was gone. When his poor, aching head swam for a moment, and he fell, heavily to the ground, what a shout went up ! DrolL fellow, that Jefi" — very droll ! And their laughter reached its culminating point when, during a hornpipe by the pretty columbine, two large tears stole down the clown's painted face, as he, in burlesque fashion, at- tempted to imitate it. ' He's a-crying with laughter ! ' roared the excited gallery, and they cheered him to the echo for entering so heartily into the spirit of the thing. At last the end came. One last wild trick, clouds of smoke from the coloured flres, a last mad ' rally,' and, amidst tremendous applause, the pantomime was over. As the band commenced to play the National Anthem, Jolly Joe Jefis staggered ofi" the stage, as he had staggered on. Ere he could reach his dressing-room two men stopped him. One was Mr. Flies, the other Mortimer, the manager. 'My boy,' said the latter, taking him by both hands, and shaking them warmly. 186. lefeoy's story {continued). 'you've surpassed, yourself. If only your wife could have seea you ! ' That was enough. For a minute Jolly Joe stood erect, and then, with a wild, gasping cry, fell, heavily to the graund. The clown was goine, but the man was there. "NIGHT THE SECOND. " Ten years rolled by. Ten long, weary years they had been to Joe Jeffs, who had never given up the search for his lost darling. A few weeks after his great loss an old relative had died, leaving him a small annuity. On this he had lived, or rather existed, wandering aimlessly about the country in the hope of one day finding his wife, whom, in spite of all, he loved as fondly as ever. " And this Boxing Night, he was walking down the little High Street of Milford, weary, hopeless, and sick at heart, to all appearance a bent, careworn, old man, a mere wreck of the merry fellow who ten years before had made a great theatre resound with peals of laughter at his drollery. Quickly the clown walked on, for the night was cold, and the biting east wind seemed to pierce his bones to the very marrow When within a few yards of the little inn at which he was staying, his arm was touched. " ' Buy a box of lights, sir ; do buy a box, please ! ' " He turned. A woman, wretchedly clad, and with death stamped in every feature, stood at his elbow. lefeoy's story (cONTmUBD). 187 No,' ansM'cred the clown, roughly ; ' I don't want any,' and he walked on. "But the beggar was not so ■ easily shaken off. She detained him again, and as the wind lulled for a minute, her voice rang in his ear : "'Buy a box, sir; just one box!' "At the sound Joe Jeffs turned. " ' Let me see your face,' he cried, hoarsely ; then, as the pale light of the moon fell upon it : ' Nellie, dearie, don't you know me ? — Joe, your husband ? ' " But there was no reply, for his long-lost wife lay insensible in his arms. " She was dying, the doctors said — dying of cold and want. So they told her husband, sitting by her bedside in the little inn. " ' Can nothing save her ? ' asked the clown. '"Nothing on earth, my poor fellow — nothing on earth.' And the old doctor looked out of the window and blew his nose violently, for a kind-hearted old man was the doctor, and knew something of poor Joe's story, and felt for him. " 'Joe.' "'Yes, darling.' "■ ' Are you sure you quite forgive me ? ' '* A loving kiss was the only answer. '■"Nellie, I won't be long,' cried the clown. " 'Listen ! ' Aad by a great effort the dying woman raised herself up ; then suddenly : 188 LEFROY's story (CONTINUED). " 'Joe, dear, what day is it ?' " ' Christmas Day, Nell.' " ' Ah ! so it is. More light, for God's sake, more light ! ' " The doctor made a movement of his hand, and the attendant drew back the curtains from the little window which looked upon the sea, on which lay a broad path of gold, formed of the last rays of the setting sun upon the water. " ' How bright it all is, Joe,' cried the dying, woman, as she sank back upon her pillow. ' At last, at last ! Joe, darling husband ! good-bye ! ' " And with a sweet and happy smile upon her face, Nellie went down with the sun. " Joe Jeflfs still lives at Milford, but he is wonder-, fully changed, though. People say he is mad, and so he is, in a sad, harmless way. For as sure as Boxing Night comes round, he paints his face and dresses just as clowns do, and there in the little tap-, room of the 'Red Lion' he sings 'Hot Codlins ' in a little, thin, cracked voice, and tumbles in a mild and feeble way, and plays a few clownish tricks. How the villagers laugh ! They know he is mad, but that doesn't take away from their enjoyment; and one of old Joe's funniest tricks is to address them all as •ladies and gentlemen,' and apologise for the non- appearance of the columbine. But when all the merri- ment is over, old Joe, with his clown's dress still upon him, creeps down, whatever the weather may leproy's story {concluded). 189 be, to the little churchyard, where, with his poor old gray head pillowed on a little marble slab inscribed ' Nellie,' he pours out a bitter prayer that heaven may take him soon to her he loved so well, and ere he leaves the tomb, with great tears upon his painted face, he softly prays for Nellie too. But the end must soon come. " Each Boxing Night old Joe goes through the same performance, and the people laugh as vociferously as before. But every year he gets more feeble. He can't tumble as he used to, and his sight and memory seem failing fast, and the absent look in his face seems to denote that his thoughts are far away. " And now when people meet old Joe Jeffs, they shake their heads sadly, for they know that soon, very soon, the curtain must fall." According to a statement Lefroy left with the prison chaplain, he spent almost his last penny, on the day of the murder, to buy the railway ticket that placed him in a situation to commit the crime. He said he had no knowledge of Mr. Gold's habits, and no par- ticular reason for supposing that that gentleman had money or valuables in his possession. Just before his execution, a document was handed, at his request, to one of his nearest relatives. In it he stated that he had been desperate, owing to his want of money, and that, upon the morning of the murder, he rose early- with the intention of obtaining funds. -190 lefhoy's confession. even though his efibrts to do so involved murder. From this document it appears that, on arriving at the railway station, he walked up and down the plat- form, and looked into all the carriages, in the hope of discovering a lady likely to have some money in Jier possession. JSe stated that he thought he might succeed in robbing a woman by threatening her, and added that if he could, in this way, have avoided murder, he would have done so. He felt, he said, that if he offered the lady the alternative of giving up her money or her life, she would at once have yielded up the former. He could have coerced her by pointing his pistol at her, and, if necessary, he could .have dealt her a blow which would have caused her to swoon. Seeing no lady whose appearance be- tokened the possession of any considerable sum of money, he entered a carriage which contained one gentleman, and immediately nerved himself for the commission of murder. In conclusion, Lefroy admitted that the finding of the jury was just and right. CHAPTEE XX. IMPIA SUB BULCI MELLB VBNENA XATENT. A remarkable case of murder — George Henry Lamson — The young cripple at Blenheim House, "Wimbledon — An affectionate letter — How the property was divided — Lamson's pecuniary diffi- culties — His visit to the school — The sweets, the Dundee cake, and the gelatine capsules — An agonising death — Interesting scientific evidence — Experiments with the mice — My lines of defence — The prisoner's demeanour on hearing the verdict — Devotion of Lamson's wife. The next case of murder in which I defended was one of even greater interest, in my judgment, than that of Lefroy. The accused was George Henry Lamson, a surgeon, twenty-nine years of age. He was charged with the murder of his brother-in-law, Percy Malcolm John, who met his fate on the 3rd of December, 1881. The trial took place before Mr. Justice Hawkins on March 9th, 1882, and the five following days. The Solicitor-General, Sir F. Herschell, Mr. Poland, and Mr. A. L. Smith appeared for the Crown ; while I, Mr. C. Mathews, and Mr. E. Gladstone defended the accused. Percy Malcolm John, a lad of about nineteen, wha was a sufferer from paralysis of the lower limbs, and 192 THE TEIAL OP LAMSON. unable to walk, was a pupil at the school of a Mr. Bedbrook, Blenheim House, Wimbledon. Two wheeling chairs were kept for his convenience in the building. One was for use on the second floor, where he slept, and the other in the basement, where he remained during the day. It was the custom for one of the boys to carry him downstairs every morning, and to carry him up again at night. On Friday, the 2nd of December, he stated to his schoolmaster that he expected a visitor. No visitor, however, arrived. He had received a letter, dated December 1st, which ran as follows : "Nelson's Hotel, Gebat Poktland Street, " London. "My deae Percy, " I had intended running down to Wimbledon to see you to-day, but I have been delayed by various matters until it is now nearly six o'clock. By the time I should reach Blenheim House you would probably be preparing for bed. I leave for Paris and Florence to- morrow, and wish to see you before going, so I purpose to run down to your place as early as I can for a few minutes, even if I can accomplish no more. " I am, dear boy, " Your loving brother, "G. H. Lamson." On December 3rd, the lad was carried down in HOW THE PROPERTY WAS LEFT. 193 the usual way to the basement. He appeared to be in his ordinary health. His mother had died in 1868. All the children had been wards in Chancery, and, previous to 1881, one of his brothers and one of his sisters had died under age. Another sister had married the prisoner, a medical practitioner of Bournemouth. By the will, the children, when they came of age, or married, were each entitled to an eighth portion of a certain property. The share of those who died under age passed to the survivors. At the time of his death, Percy John had property in expectation to the value of about £3,000. In the event of his death as a minor, it would be divided among his two married sisters. Mrs. Lamson, at the time of her marriage, had made a settlement to her husband ; therefore, her share would come into his hands. Herbert John, one of Percy's brothers, had died in 1879, and the prisoner had received, as his share of the deceased child's property, £479 in India Stock, and £269 in Consols. Percy, though a sufferer from paralysis, exhibited no symptoms of serious bodily illness. He was a boy of remarkably good temper, and of very fair intelligence. It appears that the prisoner's career had been some- what of a chequered one. He had struggled with great pecuniary difficulties, and, in spite of the money he received by Herbert John's death, an execution had VOL. n. o 194 THE CAPSULE. been put into his house. At the time of the murder, he was admittedly in straitened circumstances. Lamson had appeared to exhibit the greatest solici- tude for the welfare of the deceased, and had seemed to take a professional interest in his case. On the 3rd of December, Lamson visited the school at Wimbledon, at about seven o'clock in the evening. He produced a parcel, and explained to the schoolmaster that he had brought his young relative some sweets and a cake. He also stated that he had some gelatine capsules which he had brought from America. Eemarking to Mr. Bedbrook that they would enable him to administer nauseous medicines to his pupils, he prevailed upon that gentleman to take one himself, just to see how easily they could be swallowed. Cutting the Dundee cake with his penknife, Lamson gave a piece of it, together with some of the sweets, to the schoolmaster, and, during the whole of the interview, he munched the cake him- self. Percy John also had some sweets and some of the cake. While Lamson was descanting upon the virtues, of the capsules, and the schoolmaster was examining them, the former filled one with sugar from the basin in front of him, and handed it to his young brother- in-law, with these words : " Here, Percy, you're a swell pill-taker ; take this, and show Mr. Bedbrook how easily it may be swallowed." The boy placed the capsule in his mouth, and swallowed it with one gulp. The prisoner observed: AK AGONISING DEATH. 195 " That's soon, gone, my boy ; " and then he added : " I must be going now." Just before leaving the school, he said he intended to catch the tidal train for Paris. About twenty minutes afterwards, Percy complained of heartburn, and was carried up to bed. In a little while he became worse, and vomited violently. He told Mr. Bedbrook that he felt as he had done in the previous August, when the prisoner had given him a pill. It was clear that he was suffering great pain, and those who attended him had the utmost difficulty in keeping him down in bed. Every remedy that was tried seemed of no avail, until the doctors injected morphia under the skin, which seemed to give him temporary relief. The operation was repeated several times, but, in spite of this, and the other remedies employed, the poor lad died within four hours of swallowing the capsule. At the bottom of one of Percy John's boxes a pill-box was discovered. It contained certain pills, and on the label was written : " George Henry Lam son, M.D., care of Messrs. Gilling and Co., 499, Strand." Upon analysis, those pills were found to contain aconitine. A post-mortem examination was conducted by Dr. Little and Mr. Bond, who could not, however, discover anything sufficient to cause death, the only traceable disease being the long-standing curvature of the spine, in itself innocuous. A chemical analysis of the stomach o 2 196 PUKCHASING POISON, and other parts of the body was then conducted by Dr. Stevenson and Dr. Dupr^, who came to the certain conclusion that death was due to an irritant vegetable poison. They declared that this was aconitine, a deadly poisonous vegetable alkaloid, containing tbe active principles of aconite, distilled from the root of monk's-hood. Suspicions fell on the prisoner, and they were greatly strengthened when it was discovered that, on the 28th August, 1881, he had purchased, of a chemist at Ventnor, named Albert Smith, three grains of sul- phate of atropine, and two grains of aconitine. The chemist stated that, knowing Lamson to be a medical man, he had sold him the poison without making any inquiries, contenting himself with labelling the bottle " Aconitia." In addition to this, it was dis- covered that, on the 24th of November, 1881, the prisoner asked for two grains of aconitine at Messrs. Allen and Hanburys', of Plough Court,. Lombard Street, and that the assistant, having referred to the Medical Directory, and found that Lamson was duly qualified, had supplied him at once with the poison he desired. Evidence was also forthcoming that, on the 20th of November, Lamson had attempted to purchase some aconitine at Messrs. Bell and Company's, of Oxford Street. The principal interest of the trial centred in the possibility of detecting, by chemical tests, the presence of vegetable poisons in the human body 'after death. LAMSON GIVES HIMSELF UP. 197 In this connection, the evidence of Dr. Stevenson and Dr. Dupre was of a most scientific character. They stated that they had conducted experiments with extracts from the boy's body, having injected drops of those extracts under the skin of mice, which had died of the operation. The little creatures had, the doctors said, exhibited the same symptoms before death as would follow from injections of pure aconitine. It appeared that the prisoner, having heard that suspicions were aroused against him, went, on the 8th of December, of his own accord, to Scotland' Yard, where he saw a police inspector, named Butcher. That officer gave evidence as to what transpired at the interview. He said : " When the prisoner came there and saw me, he said : ' Mr. Butcher ? ' I replied : ' Yes.' He then said : ' I am Dr. Lamson, whose name has been mentioned in connection with the death at Wimbledon.' After I had asked him to be seated, he continued : ' I have called to see what is to be done about it. I considered it best to do so. I read the account in the public papers in Paris, and came over this morning. I have only just now arrived in London. I am very unwell and upset about this matter, and am not in a fit state at all to have undertaken the journey.' I then com- municated with Superintendent Williamson, who said to the prisoner : ' You will have to remain for a time.' I remained with him, and his wife was also present. He conversed on various subjects for some time, and 198 POLICE EVIDENCE. then he said : ' Why is the delay ? I thought I would come here and leave my address. I am going into the country — to Chichester — so you will know where to find me ; and I will attend the inquest. I have tra- velled from Paris vid Havre and Southampton. I went over vid Dover and Calais,' After this I again saw Chief Inspector Williamson, who called the prisoner into another room, and said : ' Dr. Lamson, this case has been fully considered, and it has been decided to charge you with causing the death. I therefore take you into custody, and charge you with causing the death of Percy Malcolm John, at Blenheim House, Wimbledon, on the 3rd of December.' The prisoner said : ' Very well. Do you think they would accept bail ? I hope the matter will be kept as quiet as possible, for the sake of my rektions.' I told him he would now be taken to the Wandsworth Police Court, and that the question of bail would rest with the magistrate. I then conveyed; him in a cab to the Wandsworth Police Station. On the way, he said : ' You will have my father here in a day or two. I hope it will be stated that I came to Scotland Yard of my own free will. I came from Paris on purpose.' I said : ' Certainly.' In a box of the prisoner's, which was found at Euston Station, certain pages were discovered, on which was written a description of the effects of acrid vegetable poisons." This was one of the most difficult cases that I ever had to deal with, because it required so much medical MY DEFENCE. 199 knowledge. For days before the trial — or rather, for nights ; my days being fully occupied — I spent hours in study, being assisted in my task by Professor Tidy, the celebrated analyst. My speech for the defence lasted for the greater part of two days. I had to deal with the analytical and medical evidence with extreme minuteness. I laid great stress on the admitted inability of the scientific witnesses to rely on any other tests than those applied to the mice ; declared that their action was a leap in the dark ; and pointed out that they had to traverse a region of science which had hitherto been unexplored. What, I asked, was the evidence of any knowledge having been obtained as to aconitine ? Who could speak of its properties and character ? — and Echo answered "Who V What was it ? — the root of monk's-hood. Up to the present time, with the exception of one reported case, there was no authority on the subject. After exhausting the evidence of Dr. Berry, who attended the boy when first he was taken ill, and of Dr. Little and Mr. Bond, who con- ducted the post-mortem examination, I passed to the testimony of Drs. Stevenson and Duprd, whose testi- mony, the former said, rested upon the tests of the eifects of the solution on mice. I pointed out that Dr. Stevenson had admitted that most of those results were consistent with causes other than poisoning by aconitine. I endeavoured to ridicule the tests upon mice, and quoted the remarks of Lord Coleridge, who 200 THE TESTS ON MICE. had said that tests upon animals were always most unreliable, and of Dr. Tidy, who had written that, though useful in arriving at results, they sometimes failed, and were "not at all reliable." If, I said, the jury used their common sense, they must see that those observations were sound. So delicate was the constitution of a mouse, I pointed out, that one of those experimented upon had died because the injecting needle had been stuck into its body a quarter of an inch too far. Mice would sometimes die even from an injection of water; and therefore, could the mice experimented with be declared positively to have died from aconitine poisoning? Upon the question as to whether, if aconitine had been given, it had been given by the prisoner, I commented strongly on the fact of his poverty having been pressed against him, and called the attention of the jury to the facilities which Lamson would have had to take the boy's life, had he been so minded, during the summer. I drew attention to the fact that the supposed murder took place in the full light of day, in the presence of the schoolmaster, and that there was no evidence to show that the prisoner had brought the capsule with him ready charged. He must evidently, I said, have manipulated it in the schoolmaster's presence, and I pointed out that it was not at Lamson's request that the powdered white sugar was brought into the room. As to the pills, where did they come from? No pills were given to the boy by the prisoner, for THE prisoner's "WIFE. 201 Mr. Bedbrook was present throughout the whole of the interview, and saw none exchange hands. Where was the boy all the afternoon ? He had been down- stairs, in the room where the pills were found. It was well known that, in contravention of the rules of the establishment, Percy John kept, and took, medicine privately ; and what, I asked, was more likely than that he should have taken the pills for heartburn, from which he was suffering ? At the conclusion of my speech (which is printed at the end of this volume), the Solicitor-General replied, and the Judge summed up. I was very much impressed during this trial by the conduct of the prisoner's wife. She remained entirely staunch and faithful to him until the end. She had sacrificed everything in the way of money to obtain the means to defend him. Day by day a thin little figure sat half concealed behind the jury-box, and, as the public were leaving the Court every evening, at the end of the day's proceedings, this little figure would steal almost unobserved from its hiding-place, and, standing close underneath the dock, would take the prisoner's hand and kiss it most affectionately. This shows how true a woman can be, for I have but little doubt now, from many circumstances that came to my knowledge after the trial, that she full well knew her husband to be 202 ANOTHER CRIME. guilty. Nay, it is probable that sbe knew more than was proved before the legal tribunal. There can be little doubt that her other brother, Herbert, by whose death Lamson came into a considerable sum of money, was also murdered by him. I am under the impression, indeed, that, before his execution, the convict made a full con- fession of both crimes. CHAPTER XXL MIEABILE DICTU. A remarkable matrimonial case — Lord Euston's marriage with Kate Walsh Smith — The settlement — Froggatt, the solicitor, convicted of larceny — His lordship leaves the country — Doubts and inquiries — The man who went down in the London — Matters take a fresh turn — Eemarkable coincidences — The result of the proceedings. That truth is stranger than fiction was never better exemplified than in an important divorce case in which I figured as one of the counsel. The Honourable Henry- James Fitzroy, commonly called the Earl of Euston, petitioned, and Kate Walsh Smith, otherwise Fitzroy, and Countess of Euston, responded. Mr. Charles Russell, Q.C., Mr. Murphy, Q.C., and Mr. Lehman were counsel for the petitioner, while Mr. Inderwick, Q.C., and I represented the respondent. Even in the annals of that remarkable tribunal, the Divorce Court, I do not think a more extraordinary story was ever unravelled than this case brought to light. The petitioner was the eldest son of the Duke of Grafton, and he sued Kate Walsh Smith to have a 204 A REMARKABLE DIVORCE CASE, decree of nullity of marriage pronounced on the ground that, at the time he went through the ceremony of mar- riage with her, she was a married woman whose husband was then living. In the year 1870, the petitioner, then the Honourable Henry Fitzroy, met the respondent, who was known by the name of Kate Cook. She was alleged to be a woman of gay habits, who had taken her name from a person connected with the circus, with whom she had lived for a number of years. After the petitioner had met her, he lived with her for some time, and, even- tually, on the 29th of May, 1871, they went through the ceremony of marriage. The respondent gave her name as "Kate Walsh," and stated that she was a widow. In the certificate of the Eegistrar of Marriages she was described in that way. The friends of the petitioner learnt of his connection with this woman some time before the ceremony was gone through, and they were very anxious to prevent it. The marriage took place in a parish church at Worcester, and, at that time. Lord Euston, who was entitled in his own right to £10,000, settled the amount upon the respondent. Unfortunately for her, she was introduced by some friends of his to a solicitor named Froggatt. The reader will remember that the solicitor in question was one of the defendants in the second Turf Fraud case, and that he was convicted. 