THE MURDER AT BABBACOMBE.
Public excitement in reference to the murder of Miss Keyse, an elderly lady, residing at the Glen, Babbacombe, early on Saturday morning, under circumstances already reported, continues unabated in the district.
The inquest was opened in the music room at Babbacombe Glen, the residence of the deceased lady, at eleven o’clock on Monday, before Mr. S. Hacker, county coroner. Fifteen gentlemen comprised the jury, of whom Mr. S. Radbury was chosen foreman. Superintendent Barber was present on behalf of the police.
The Coroner suggested that the death of the deceased lady occurred under circumstances of great suspicion, and as there was a person in custody charged with the serious crime of murder, he asked the jury to give their careful attention, and to approach the matter quite unbiased by what they had seen in the public papers or what they might have heard from persons in the locality. According to the information he had received it would be necessary to adjourn the inquiry before they came to any verdict. He proposed that the jury should view the body, and then adjourn to the Town Hall at St. Mary Church. The jury then viewed the body and also inspected the house and grounds, after which they adjourned to the Town Hall, where their arrival was awaited by a large crowd of spectators who thronged the large building to the door. The accused man, Lee, was brought up to the Hall shortly after eleven o’clock, and was placed handcuffed in one of the ante-rooms awaiting the assembling of the jury. He was afterwards called in and acquainted by the Coroner of the position he stood in.
Elizabeth Harris deposed: I live at the Glen, Babbacombe and was in the service of Miss Keyse as cook. The body now lying at the house is that of my late mistress. I was there on Friday last, the 14th, and saw the deceased for the last time at half-past ten in the morning. She then summoned the servants to prayers in the dining-room after breakfast—I, Jane and Eliza Neck, and Miss Keyse. John Lee was also a servant in the house.
Mr. Geo. Whitehead said: I live at Inverleith-road, Edinburgh, and follow no occupation. The body which the jury have viewed is that of Emma Keyse, my step-sister. I cannot give you her exact age, but she could not be less than 60. The deceased lived at the Glen before I can recollect. I have not searched the house for any papers. I have heard that she was about to make a will or to right [sic] silence. He did not think that she kept large sums of money about the house, as she paid her bills by cheque. I have examined the entrances to the premises minutely, and cannot find that any forcible entry has been made. On going to the bedroom on Saturday morning I found the room had been attempted to be set on fire by a light being applied to the corner of the bed. My sister’s clothes were in the room, but she had not occupied the bed the previous night. By a Juror— I know the Glen well. I am positive that no forcible entry was made of the house from the outside. The bed in which he slept that night was within about six feet from where the deceased fell. It was a moral impossibility that he should not have heard the noise in case there had been forcible entry.
Elizabeth Harris, re-called, stated—The prisoner Lee’s duties are of a general kind. He slept at night in the pantry downstairs, which is situated between the kitchen and the dining-room. I sleep upstairs alone, on a floor below that occupied by Jane and Eliza Neck. Feeling unwell I went to bed at five o’clock on Friday and slept until nearly eleven. Then I slept again after a short interval until between three and four in the morning, when I again awoke and smelt something peculiar as if a fire were raging. I got out, opened the door, and found the passage full of smoke. She then called the other two female servants, who, after she had mounted the nursery stairs, answered. I then went back to get up the other servants and while doing so I heard Miss Neck leave her room and go to the bedroom of Miss Keyse. After I was dressed I went to the nursery door and got some water, and when I was returning I met the prisoner, who had been aroused by the calls. (The prisoner [interposing]—That was after we called Mr. Gasking.) I took the water to one of the rooms. Jane Neck called to me to come into Miss Keyse’s room, but I could not see her, the place was so full of smoke. When I first saw Lee he was wearing only shirt and trousers. I don’t remember that he made any remark. I afterward went downstairs, where I found the dining-room on fire. In the front of the couch lying on the floor was the body of Miss Keyse. One side of the couch and the wall were on fire. The deceased was in her night dress, which was nearly burnt off her body. When Lee was downstairs I noticed that his arm was bleeding. He said he could not open the window and he broke the glass, and in doing so he cut his arm. The prisoner is my half-brother. I wash his linen. I am quite sure I did not hear any noise during the night of Friday. The socks produced belong to the prisoner. After the fire was got under he went to Compton. By the jury—It was five minutes after I called the other servants that I saw the prisoner. He is not hard of hearing. A person in my room could hear a noise that was caused downstairs, unless the noise was very slight. Half an hour elapsed between the time when I first raised the alarm and the finding of the body of my mistress. I did not know what had happened to her until I made the discovery in the dining-room. Up to that time I had feared she was smothered in her bed. I should think any scuffle or noise could have taken place at the door of the dining-room whilst the prisoner hearing it from the room in which he slept. If I had not gone to bed early and slept soundly in the early part of the night we should all have been burnt in our beds.
Jane Neck deposed: I lived with Miss Keyse at The Glen as a parlour maid. I have been with the deceased lady since 1836. Miss Keyse has lived there all that time. About half-past twelve on Friday night, or Saturday morning, she went to the deceased in the drawing-room. They had all been at prayers, with the exception of the cook, at half-past ten prayers. At eleven o’clock I took the deceased some tea and toast. At that time, the prisoner was in bed, and apparently asleep. After I had finished my duties I went into the dining-room at about half-past eleven and wished the deceased “good night.” She left her a cup of cocoa as usual in the kitchen. The meaning was that I left the dining-room as written in the diary. If she had any letters to write she would usually write them after I had gone to bed. I slept with my sister. We were awoke by hearing cries of the last witness, and went to Miss Keyse’s room, which I found to be in a blaze. I shouted for the deceased but did not get any reply, and on turning down the clothes of her bed I discovered she was not there. I also saw that the bed had not been slept in. The water bottle was at the head of the bed where it had been placed earlier in the evening, and the clothes were in no way disarranged. The deceased’s dress and under garments were hung up in the room. The bell pull was down. The deceased was never in the habit of using the bell. I left the room to go downstairs and met the prisoner at the top of the staircase, and he caught hold of me by the arm and assisted me. He said something about the fire—could not say what. So far as I recollect, he said “Good God! The place is on fire!” I am not sure whether the prisoner assisted me all the way downstairs, or whether he went to get water. I went down to the dining room, the door of which was wide open. The prisoner afterwards came in and in attempting to push back the shutters he got an injury to his left arm by the breaking of glass in the window. The shutters of the room were fast closed when I first went into the room. I asked the prisoner to go and call up Mr. Gaskin, and he went. Before leaving the room he said he had cut his arm with the glass of the window. By the Jury—The prisoner said he broke the window to let out the smoke. I found some blood on my nightdress, which I considered did not come from me. At the time the prisoner caught hold of me to assist me downstairs, I went and touched the body of Miss Keyse directly I entered the room. It was quite cold. I thought it my duty to seek the candlestick and ever got on the sideboard in the dining room, which I did on Friday night. It was
directly I entered the room. It was quite cold. It was my duty to see the candlestick right and set on the sideboard in the dining room, which I did on Friday night. It was also my duty to replenish the lamps, the oil for which was kept in the pantry closet in a can. I put it back there on Friday morning after filling the lamps. There was then some oil in the can, but on Saturday afternoon, after the occurrence, I found it to be quite empty. I purchased a gallon of oil a week before. My attention was called to oil which had been thrown on the stairs. We were all on very good terms in the house. The deceased did not intend to keep the prisoner in her service, as she could not afford to do so on full wages; but she was trying to get him to emigrate. The prisoner told me on Saturday morning that Miss Keyse was the best friend he had. The silver plate is still in the house in the box in the deceased’s bedroom, where it was usually kept. The deceased gave the prisoner half-a-crown a week salary with food. He entered Miss Keyse’s service last January. The prisoner was put out when his last quarterly payment was due that she did not give him more, so she gave him a little extra money. He did not use any kind of threat toward her, and was content to stay on. I identify the night dress produced as mine. I wore it on Saturday morning. There is blood on both arms of the dress. The prisoner touched me twice—once before the glass was broken, and once afterwards, when he was going out to get assistance. I think the blood must have come on my dress when the prisoner touched me after the breaking of the glass.
Eliza Neck said:—I live at the Glen, Babbacombe, and have been waiting on Miss Keyse for a number of years—more than forty. I was present at family prayers on Friday night with her sister, the prisoner, and the deceased. That was the last time I saw deceased alive. After prayers she went up and put a water bottle on the pillow in the deceased’s bedroom; also took up a jug of hot water. I put her nightdress on the hot-water bottle. The bell pull was then, so far as I can remember, suspended in its proper place. My sister and I went to bed together, about a quarter past twelve. My sister bolted the doors of the house—all except one leading to the passage, which I bolted myself. The doors were all fastened the last thing before we went to bed. After we were aroused in the morning by the calls of the cook we came down to the dining room. I met the prisoner coming out of the pantry to go to the hall, and he said: “What’s the matter?—this smoke is choking me.” I could not see into the room because of the smoke. In the dining room, I saw in a blaze of fire everything in the room, and I went to the pantry, got a jug of water and threw it on the floor. A candlestick lay a little distance off the one that the last witness had prepared for the deceased to go to bed with. I can identify the chair covering and belong-ings to a chair in the hall. It is covered with blood. I also identify the petticoat produced. The deceased wore it on the evening in question, but would take it off on going to bed. It was found on her body partly burnt. I cannot identify the socks produced, which are saturated with paraffin oil, as the property of the prisoner. By the jury—I do not know that the prisoner is a heavy sleeper, or hard of hearing. The prisoner had gone to fetch assistance when the body of the deceased was found. I can identify two towels produced, which bear marks of blood, as belonging to the deceased; they were hung up in the pantry and scullery.
Elizabeth Harris, re-called, said—I didn’t know where the oil was kept, and have not touched it. I saw the prisoner washing his hands early on Saturday morning in the scullery. I cannot state what the exact time was. The wound in his arm bled very much.
ADJOURNED INQUEST.
FURTHER DISCLOSURES.
Mr. S. Hacker held an adjourned inquest on Tuesday at the Town Hall, St. Mary Church, on the body of Emma Whitehead Keyse, an aged single lady, residing at “The Glen,” Babbacombe, who is supposed to have come to her death by foul means at an early hour on Saturday morning, the body having been found in the dining-room of the deceased’s residence under circumstances already reported, the throat cut from ear to ear, and three severe fractures on the head. John Lee, 20, a servant of the house, is in custody on suspicion of having murdered his mistress. The Court was again thronged, and the proceedings excited the most intense interest. The accused man occupied a seat near the jury. The Chief Constable and the Superintendent for the Division watched the case for the police.
William Gasking said—I am landlord of the Cary Arms, Babbacombe. About four o’clock I was awoke by my niece calling me, and I got up and went to the house. Outside I saw the prisoner. I said, “Well, John, what is the matter?” He said, “Oh! Miss Keyse is burnt to death!” I said, “Where to?” and he replied, “In the dining-room.” He was then trying to get water. I left the prisoner and went to the dining-room, the door of which was open, but the shutter of the window closed. There I found the deceased lying on the floor. I called to the prisoner to come in and help me. He came into the room, and I asked him to take hold of her. He hesitated at first, but afterwards came over and put his arm under the deceased on one side, and I put my arm under her on the other side, and together we removed the body as far as the kitchen door. The garments were burning when I went in. When I first saw the prisoner he was dressed in his trousers and shirt, with his braces hanging down behind. With the assistance of a fisherman named Harris I afterwards removed the body to the boathouse adjoining the premises. I then assisted to extinguish the fire in the dining-room. I sent the prisoner for a hatchet to chop away parts of the ceiling, and in less than five minutes he brought one. I expect he got it from the woodhouse. I found a pane of glass in the dining-room window broken. The prisoner told me afterwards that he broke it. I did not smell any paraffin, but I believe since that some must have been used to cause the fire in the dining-room. I did not get any blood about my clothes by removing the body of the deceased. I could not see for the smoke whether there was any blood upon the prisoner when I first saw him. I did not observe at any time that the prisoner’s arm was cut, and he was not lame, also o’clock that he told me of it. I noticed a pool of blood in the passage just after the fire had been extinguished. My attention was drawn to it by Elizabeth Harris, the cook. The prisoner was wearing the trousers produced, which smell of paraffin oil, by the prisoner. I asked someone to fetch a pole, and I think you fetched it, I don’t remember who knocked down the ceiling. I carried the deceased out by holding her by the left side. Her head was towards the door when I first saw her. When we had carried out the body I asked you to fetch a carpet, which you brought. I also asked you to fetch water. I did not ask you to throw water over the breasts of the deceased because she was burning. I don’t remember the Police Sergeant speaking to you. I didn’t remember your saying while the ceiling was being broken down that your arm was hurt. After breakfast you said you had been to see the doctor and have your arm dressed. That was the first time I knew you had a wound on the arm. I did not see you again after you left the kitchen until Monday evening.
Richard Harris stated—I live at Beach Cottage, Babbacombe, and am a fisherman. I was called on Saturday morning and got to the residence of the deceased about five minutes to four. I met the last witness and the prisoner bringing out the body of the deceased from the dining-room. I noticed that her clothing was then on fire. It was too dark for me to observe whether at that time the prisoner had any marks of blood upon him, or any blood dropping from the left arm. The prisoner told me later that he had cut his arm by breaking the glass of the dining room window. He said this about five o’clock. A quarter of an hour afterwards he left the house to go to the deceased’s sister at Compton, and returned in about an hour. At my request the prisoner showed me the wound on his arm, which I recommended him to wash, and he went to the scullery for the purpose of doing so. He did it afterwards and he should go and see the doctor about it. I noticed shortly after the police arrived that four or five panes of glass in the dining room window were broken.
Jane Neck recalled, said—It was my duty to bolt the doors and windows of the house. I did so on Friday evening. I shut all the doors about six o’clock and fastened them, some with bolts, others with locks, and others again with iron bars. I made all the windows fast except that of the dining room. That the deceased used to fasten herself before going to bed. I sent the prisoner to Compton to tell the deceased’s sister what had happened. I have only been supplying two lamps from the gallon of oil purchased a week ago, of which I found there was none left on Saturday. The comb found in the hall (produced) covered with blood belonged to the deceased.
John Salter deposed—I am an ironmonger, &c., of Fore-street, St. Mary Church. I supplied one gallon of oil, Alexandria oil, to the deceased on Nov. 6. The empty can produced is one of that oil. There is no leakage in it. I cannot smell any oil on the clothes produced.
George Pearce said—I am one of the Coastguard stationed at Babbacombe. On Saturday morning I was awoke by voices of persons rattling the door and calling. I got up and went downstairs, where I saw John Harris, the fisherman, with whom I went down to the house of the deceased. I went straight through the kitchen to the dining-room, where I saw Mr. Gasking and the prisoner. Gasking was throwing water from a jug on the ceiling, and the prisoner had a pole knocking away the burning pieces from the other parts of the room. I noticed some blood in the hall. I went upstairs and helped to put out the fire which was raging in the deceased’s bedroom. I did not notice any blood on the pole. I took it from the prisoner, at the direction of Mr. Gasking, who, as he had been working with it some time, appeared to be fatigued. By the prisoner—I sent you for the hatchet. I did not see you after you brought it. I don’t know what time it was. It might have been a few minutes to five. There were no servants in the house at the time. I did not see you leave the house to go to Compton.
Mary Blatchford deposed—I am maid to Mrs. McLean, sister of the deceased. The prisoner called at the back door of the house on Saturday morning and aroused me. I looked out of the window and asked what was the matter. The prisoner said “Come down, Miss Keyse’s house is on fire!” I asked him if it was burning much, and he said the dining-room was on fire. I asked him where Miss Keyse was. He did not answer for a moment, and then said she was burnt. I repeated the query, when the prisoner said, “Her? dead.” I said, “It is not possible.” He replied, “It is.”
Ann Bolder stated—I am cook to Mrs. MacLean. On Saturday morning the prisoner came to the house of my mistress. In reply to my question as to what was the matter he said that the deceased’s house was on fire and she was burnt to death. I asked him how it had happened, and he said he did not know. His arm was bleeding, and he said it had been caused by his breaking the glass.
Dr. Steele said—I am residing and practising at St. Mary Church and Babbacombe. In consequence of a message I received early on Saturday morning I went to the deceased’s house. I found the body in an outhouse. It was wrapped up in sheets without any other clothing. I observed that her right foot and leg were very much burnt. The left leg was also burnt a little. Her abdomen was considerably burnt, her chest more so, and the hair of the head was singed. There was a deep gash across the throat, which had divided all the main arteries and the windpipe. I am of opinion that the throat was cut before the deceased was quite dead. I found three wounds on the head. The wound on the back of the head was about an inch in length; the second, on the top of the head, was about an inch and a half long and had fractured the skull; and the third wound was on the right side of the head. It was large, square, and it also showed a fracture of the skull. Any one of the three wounds named would be sufficient to cause insensibleness. There was an enormous loss of blood, which I think caused death. The wound would have had a fatal result had the throat not been cut directly afterwards. Had the throat been cut when the heart was acting strongly the blood would have spurted all over the place, whereas it all lay in one pool near the door of the dining-room. It was a blunt instrument which caused the wounds on the head; the same instrument probably caused all three wounds. I cannot say for certain whether the blows were delivered from behind. The gash in the throat might with a strong powerful arm have been caused by a small knife, such as the one produced. None of the wounds could have been self-inflicted. The body smelt strongly of paraffin. I examined the hatchet produced this morning and discovered on the iron part marks which I consider to be stains of blood. The marks were very visible to the naked eye. I can discover no marks on the handle. In my opinion the wound on the right side of the head is such as might have been caused by this hatchet produced. The top of the iron part of the hatchet fits the impression of
the wound. The other wounds might have been caused by the same instrument. It would have been impossible for the deceased to have got into the dining-room by herself after receiving such wounds. The first blow on the head would have caused her to fall heavily. I have examined a knife shown me by the police, and I find stains of blood upon that also.
Thomas Bennett stated—I am principal officer of coastguard at the Babbacombe station. I was called at four o’clock on Saturday morning, and proceeded to the scene of the fire. I there saw the prisoner, who was in his shirt and trousers carrying water to extinguish the fire. After I had gone upstairs I saw the prisoner again in the hall. I noticed then some blood on his left arm. He said he had cut it in breaking the window of the dining-room to let the smoke out. I heard P.C. Nott ask the prisoner questions before his arrest. He stated that he was home at eleven o’clock, went to his room about a quarter of an hour afterwards, and was in bed and asleep before midnight. By the prisoner—It was not light enough when I first saw you to see the fastening of your shirt exactly, but I think you had a stud or button in your shirt. I heard the sergeant ask you what time you came home, and you said it was eleven o’clock. You did not say you were in at prayers at eleven o’clock. I saw you leave the house at twenty minutes past seven to go to have your arm dressed. You went up the steps. You asked me in passing which was the nearest way. There was some one a few yards in advance of you.
Geo. Phillips deposed—I am in the coastguard service at the Babbacombe station. On Saturday morning I was called, and went to the fire about four o’clock. I assisted in extinguishing the fire in one of the upstair bedrooms. On coming downstairs and going into the dining-room I found pieces of broken glass on the carpet near the window.
Elizabeth Harris said—I live at Beach Cottage, and am the wife of Richard Harris, the fisherman. On Saturday morning I followed my husband down to the house of the deceased about four o’clock. I saw the prisoner about half-past four, when he told me he had cut his arm. I saw that there was blood about his hand.
Geo. Russell deposed—I live at St. Mary Church, and am a chimney sweep. I saw the prisoner at half-past five on Saturday morning walking from St. Mary Church towards Wellwood. I did not know him, and said “hullo” when he passed, as I thought he was a policeman. He said he was going to Captain McLean’s to tell him about his sister, Miss Keyse, who, he said, was burnt to death. I said, “I am very sorry to hear it,” and he replied, “So am I.” I asked him how it occurred. He replied that he did not know, adding that if it had not been for the cook, his sister, they would all have been burnt to death. He said the sofa of the drawing-room had caught fire. He also repeated that he was sorry Miss Keyse was dead, and that as she was dead it would never be known how it was done. By the prisoner—When you met me first I said “Holloa, I thought it was a policeman.” I did not say I thought you were going to work. You did not say that the servants called me up with their calling out. I met you; we were not going one way. You mentioned to me where you had been, or where you were going. I could not say whether you said you had been to Mrs. McLean, or that you were going there. You did not say that your sister smelled smoke and came downstairs.
Wm. Richards said—I am a postman, and live at 2 James’s Cottages, Babbacombe. I have known the prisoner six years. Some time ago—I think about two months ago—I saw the prisoner near Vine Cottage. In a conversation he told me that he was tired of the place, and said, “If Miss Keyse did not get him a better place she would —— wish she had done so”—(sensation). The prisoner also said he would put an end to one in the house. I advised him to be careful, and said he would get locked up if anything should occur. The prisoner replied, “I don’t care.” I have seen the prisoner walking with a stick with a large knob on it. He remarked to me afterwards, “It would give anybody one in the head, wouldn’t it?” I said I shouldn’t care to have it. This conversation occurred at Miss Keyse’s back door. I repeated the words used by the prisoner to my wife before this occurrence.
A Juror remarked that it was a pity the witness had not told others, for he would then have saved Miss K.
The Coroner thought it was too soon to come to that conclusion.
The witness, resuming—I could not say whether the prisoner was in earnest. His conversation was serious.
By the prisoner—I cannot give any better time than two months since when you said this. I am sure the words I have repeated were spoken by you. You had a large black stick with a round knob on the top. It was not a brown stick with a shining knob on it. I have seen the stick many times on the kitchen table, and have seen you carrying it. I don’t remember whether it was a knotted stick. If I saw the stick I should know it again. You were in the croquet at work when the first conversation occurred. You said you were tired of your place, and made other remarks as I have stated. I told you to be careful, as if the words got to the public you would get locked up. I am certain as to the words.
ACCUSED BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES.
At the Torquay Police Court Wednesday, before W. T. Bridges, Esq. (in the chair), E. Vivian, L. B. Bowring, H. B. Samuelson, P. B. Delinkwater, W. H. Kitson, W. F. Splatt, and L. Porter, Esqs., John Lee, 20, servant in the employ of the late Miss Emma Ann Whitehead Keyse, of “The Glen,” Babbacombe, was brought up in custody charged on suspicion with killing and slaying his late mistress early on the morning of Saturday last. Mr. Templer watched the case on behalf of the accused man, who preserved the same air of unconcern as he manifested when at the Coroner’s inquest.
Mr. Chilcott, surgeon, was called, and the evidence he gave at the inquest was read over to him, and he confirmed it. He now added: Deceased’s night dress and gown had a strong smell of paraffin. I dressed the prisoner’s left arm on Saturday morning. He had two surface wounds. There was no blood on the sleeve of the shirt. The wounds in the throat of the deceased would drain the body in a few minutes. My impression was that the chair cover was used to put over the throat before the deceased was placed in the dining room, because the cover was partially burnt. The overcoat produced was shown to me by P.C. Nott. There are marks of blood on the left arm, but no cut. The coat smells strongly of paraffin. I also noticed blood on the right arm of the coat. The marks might have come from the wounds in the arm of the prisoner. There is a patch of blood on the trousers produced, which also smell of paraffin. The wound in the throat may have been caused by a choppery instrument, but I think it more probable it was inflicted by a knife. There is blood on the knife produced, both on blade and handle. There are also blood stains on the hatchet produced.
P.C. Nott deposed: I produce a hatchet which I found in the deceased’s dining-room on Saturday morning. It has been in charge of the police ever since.
Dr. Chilcott, recalled, said—There is blood on the thick end of the iron part of the hatchet. The blows on the deceased’s head might have been caused by the hatchet produced. I don’t think the head bled very much after the blows were struck, and I should not expect to find more blood upon the instrument used than I find upon the hatchet. Cross-examined—I do not consider that the small knife produced, if used with the greatest force, could have inflicted the wounds on the deceased’s throat. It was only this morning that I examined the hatchet. I cannot say whether it is human blood.
P.C. Rounsavell produced a knife and some paper which he found in a drawer in the pantry of the deceased’s residence, which was occupied by the prisoner. The knife was wrapped up in paper. It had the appearance of having recently been rubbed in the earth. There was blood on the knife and on the paper. Cross-examined—I would not swear that the knife was wrapped up in the paper, but I was turning over the drawer and the knife and paper came out together. It was a waste paper drawer.
Dr. Steele repeated the evidence he gave at the inquest. He added—The immediate cause of death was loss of blood. The blows on the head rendered the deceased insensible. I think it possible that the deceased might have cut her throat, but as the throat was cut after the blows were given it was quite impossible that the wound in the throat could have been self-inflicted. The wounds on the head were inflicted with a heavy weapon such as the axe produced. There would not be great effusion of blood from the head externally. I have examined the hatchet under a microscope. I find marks of blood on the obtuse end of the iron part, and some scattered about the blade—altogether about six or eight distinct stains. I find no stains on the handle. I differ from Mr. Chilcott in thinking that the wound on the deceased’s throat could not have been caused by the knife produced. I think such a knife quite capable of inflicting such a wound, which consisted of one deep cut made by a powerful hand. The trousers produced were shown to me by P.C. Nott. On examination I found stains of blood on the waistband, inside the pocket, and on the legs of the garment. Some of the stains produced might have been caused by the blood dropping from the wound on the prisoner’s arm, but I do not think all the stains could be so explained. Some of the stains appear to have been rubbed over in an attempt to efface them. I cannot distinguish between the blood of a man and a cow or any mammal, but I could tell between the blood of a human being and that of a bird.
Cross-examined—The stains in the pocket of the trousers might have been caused by a person suffering from a wound in the arm.
Re-examined—On examining the trousers a second time I found a strong smell of petroleum about them, or some mineral oil.
Eliza Neck, one of the household of the deceased lady, recapitulated her evidence before the Coroner. She added—I went into the pantry late at night on some errand. I saw the prisoner in bed. My sister was in the habit of preparing a cup of cocoa for the deceased, which was left in the kitchen. When I went to bed I left the deceased in the dining-room. There was no fire in any room in the house except the kitchen. I found the cup into which the cocoa had been put in the deceased’s bedroom, so that she must have come down to the kitchen before retiring to her room. The deceased’s bedroom, the bedroom which my sister and I occupy, and the cook’s room were on a floor upstairs. The deceased’s room was nearest the top of the stairs, my room next, the cook’s next that. I did not hear Miss Keyse come upstairs before I fell asleep on Friday night. The prisoner did not come in immediately I called out that I had found my mistress’s body, I did not see him. The body was lying across the room with the head towards the fireplace and the feet towards the door. I let the prisoner out at the kitchen door to go and call Mr. Gasking. I unbolted the door. My mistress might have found fault with the prisoner sometimes, but they had no serious dispute. I have never known him go out at night and come back without my mistress knowing it.
Cross-examined—The prisoner appeared to be asleep when I saw him in bed on Friday night. Presuming that my mistress had any order for the prisoner late at night she would probably leave a note in his room rather than wake him up. The stairs leading from the hall to the upper apartments are steep, and I cannot say how many steps there are—too many. Upon discovering the body of the deceased I called to the other servants, and asked the prisoner to go and call Mr. Gasking.
Jane Neck, another servant of the deceased, was the last witness. She deposed—I was my duty to shut up at night. I did so on Friday night, closing all the entrances except the window of the dining-room, which at the deceased’s request was left open. I shut all five doors and fastened them. The front door was shut next morning, also the conservatory door, but I could not say about the other doors. When I left the deceased at half-past twelve in the dining-room she was making her journal. I remarked to her that I did not think there was enough oil in the lamp, but she replied that there was, as she did not intend to sit up long. I am certain there was oil left in the can when I last filled the lamp, but on going to the can on Saturday morning I was surprised to find it empty. The can was kept in the pantry closet, near where the prisoner slept. The dining-room and my mistress’s bedroom were both on fire. The two rooms were separated by some distance, and the bedroom could not have caught fire from the dining-room. The knife produced was like one used by me in cutting candles. This was kept in the pantry in a drawer with some waste paper. I never wrapped it in paper. The deceased had a similar knife, but much sharper, which she used in the garden, and which was kept in the hall. I never cleaned the knife with earth.
P.S. Nott produced a knife which he found in the passage outside the deceased’s bedroom door with some rubbish.
Witness, resuming—I think this was the deceased’s knife, but I am not quite certain.
P.S. Nott produced a blood-stained chair cover which he found in the hall near the pool of blood. The cover was partly burnt, although there was no fire there.
Witness—This cover was placed loosely on a chair near the hall table. There was a sharpening-stone in the hall near the front door.
Cross-examined—Except the deceased I was the last person to retire for the night. I heard the prisoner cough once while I was with the deceased, just before I went to bed. He was then in his bed, and he frequently coughed during his sleep. The plate used by the deceased from day to day was kept in the dining-room closet, the remainder in a closet in the honeysuckle room. On examining both places, I find that the plates had not been disturbed. A person could get to the oil can in the pantry by passing the prisoner’s bed.
Elizabeth Harris, half-sister of the prisoner, gave evidence next. She identified the socks produced as belonging to the prisoner.
William Richards, postman, Babbacombe, repeated the evidence he gave at the inquest as to conversations with the prisoner, in which he stated that if the deceased did not get him a place soon he would —— well wish she had, and that he would put an end to one in the house before he left. The prisoner was sober. On the 29th of last month the prisoner told witness that he and the deceased had had a row, and that she had threatened to leave the place, but that the deceased had prevailed upon him to stay a few days longer, as she was about to sell the place to a gentleman, who might take him as a servant.
Cross-examined—I did not state this last conversation at the inquest because I was not asked to do so.
George Pearce, a Coastguardsman stationed at Babbacombe, said the hatchet produced was the same that the prisoner brought him to knock away parts of the ceiling in one of the rooms which was on fire.
Thomas Bennett, chief officer of Coastguard, Babbacombe, afterwards gave evidence. The witness was asked whether he considered that the house was set on fire, or had caught fire.—Mr. Templer objected to the question on the ground that the witness was not called to give his opinion, but to state facts.—The Chairman of the Bench allowed the question to be put, and on Mr. Templer again interposing, the Chairman told him to sit down.—The witness stated that, in his opinion, the fire in the dining-room and that in the deceased’s bedroom were two separate and distinct fires.
The Bench remanded the prisoner to Tuesday.
