The Eliza Armstrong Case: Bow Street – 3rd Day

Home » W.T. Stead & The Pall Mall Gazette » The Eliza Armstrong Case: Bow Street – 3rd Day

The Eliza Armstrong Case: Being a Verbatim Report of the Proceedings at Bow Street

(Pall Mall Gazette Supplement, October 3, 1885)


Tuesday, September 8, 1885.

This was the third day of the hearing of this case at Bow-street police-court, and, as on the former occasions, intense excitement was manifested. There was the same formidable array of counsel, Mr. Russell, Q.C., Mr. Waddy, QC, Mr. Vaughan Williams, Mr. Sutherst, and Mr. Overend for the defendants, with Mr. Poland and Sir A. K. Stephenson, Solicitor for the Treasury, representing the prosecution. Mr. Stead, who conducted his own defence, had Mr. Lickfold, of Messrs. Lewis and Lewis, to advise him. Mr. Vaughan entered the court at ten minutes to eleven, upon which the defendants took their seats in front of the dock.


Mr. Waddy having obtained the magistrate’s permission, the bail was renewed at once for the appearance of the defendants at every other adjournment, and the court proceeded with the 


Mr. Poland: When we left off yesterday you stated that you went with Inspector Borner on the 1st of August to the headquarters of the Salvation Army, Queen Victoria-street. How many times before that time had you been at the Marylebone police-court about the child?—I could not say, sir.

Had you been before the magistrate shortly before you went to Mr. Bramwell Booth?—Yes, sir.

Just describe what took place.—Mr. Bramwell Booth spoke first.

What did he say?—He asked me what I wanted.

What did you say?—I told him I wanted my child.

What did he say to that?—He said I could not have her.

What then?—I asked him for why.

What did he say to that?—He asked me if I had £100.

What did you say?—I said, “No, sir. I am only a poor woman.” He said that was the amount it cost him to send her away.

I then said, “What had he to do with it, because he was not the gentleman who sent her away?”

What did he say to that?—He made no reply. I said to him, “Be kind enough to send her back to England to prove by me, Mr. Broughton, Mrs. Broughton, and another witness, before a magistrate, that I never sold her.”

What did he say to that?—He said the girl would not know.

Did he say would not know what?—Would not know she was sold.

What did you say to that, Mrs. Armstrong?—I said a girl of thirteen would know. I said there was a scandal with the neighbours in the street that I sold my child for £5 for an improper purpose.

What did Mr. Booth say to that?—He said: “Before I sent the child away I had her examined by one of my physicians. I can show a certificate to prove that the child had not been tampered with.” He did not show the certificate, but one of the police officers said he would not dispute Mr. Booth’s word.

And the certificate was not shown to you?—No,


Now what more passed ? Did he say anything more about her?—He said: “You had a letter from her?” I said, “Yes, but there is no address on it.”

What then?—He turned to Inspector Borner and said: How much do you think a girl of her age would require for wages, two or three shillings a week?

What did Borner say to that?—That it was best known to her mother.

And then what did you do?—I made no answer. Mr. Booth put his hand in his pocket, and would have given me some money if I would have taken it. I asked him for the address, and he gave it me.

That is the address (handing Mrs. Armstrong a paper). The address is “Eliza Armstrong, care of M. The. Berard, L’Oriol, Drome, France”—Yes, sir.

Did Mr. Booth say anything more about it?—He asked me to consult with my husband, and see if it was not the best thing to let the child stay where she was, as she was in a good situation, and doing well.

What did you say to that, Mrs. Armstrong?—I promised him I would, and I walked out.

Did you leave then with the police-officers?—Yes.

After you consulted your husband you sent a letter to Mr. Booth?—Yes, sir.

How did you address the letter?—”Mr. Bramwell Booth, 101, Queen Victoria-street.”

Did you post it?—I did, sir.

Mr. Waddy: You should not put that leading question. You know we never received any such letter.

Mr. Poland: I have given you notice to produce it.

Mr. Waddy: Yes, you have gone through that farce as well as others.

When did you post the letter?—On Tuesday after Bank Holiday.

Did you receive any answer to the letter?—No, sir.

Mr. Poland: My learned friend says his client never received the letter.

Can you tell us what was in it as near as you remember?—Yes. 

You kept no copy?—No; I said:—

Sir,—Me and my husband have been talking about our little girl that went away on Derby day with the intentions of going to service with a lady named Rebecca Jarrett, which is proved she did not want a servant at all. Sir, I think it is a thing impossible that you could stand to send a child out of her own country into a foreign, country without the consent of the parents.

I don’t know how I continued. It was something about Jesus rewarding him for the money he had spent, even if did not.

How did you sign the letter? Did you sign it, “From the unhappy parents Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong?”—Yes.

Afterwards, when you got the address, you went before the magistrate again?—Yes.

And then did you write to your daughter at the address given?—Yes.

Just look, Mrs. Armstrong—is that the letter that you wrote to your child on the 4th of August, the date it bears?—Yes; that is the letter.

And that letter was addressed to the address given?— Yes.

Mr. Poland: That is one of the letters the child referred to, dated the 4th of August, 1885?—Yes.

Mr. Poland then read the letter:—

Me and father are pleased to hear from you, but not so pleased as we should be if we could see you. Write and let us know where that woman took you when you left me. I hope you are quite well, dear child, as we are broken-hearted about you. Your brother and sister were so pleased to hear from you, near child. Write and let us know how they talk about you. Write and let me know that you are happy. I am trying all I can to get you home again.

The date of the letter is the 4th. Did you know the date you posted it?—The witness: It was the day after, I think.

And then, some time afterwards, did you receive this letter from your daughter, and is this the envelope with it? (Letter and envelope produced.)—Yes.

Mr. Poland: This is the letter referred to by the child yesterday. The first part is written by the child and the second part by Miss Fielder, and the latter part again by the child. It is to this effect:—  “I send you all much love and many kisses. Your loving child, Eliza Armstrong. Write again soon, dear mother.”

Mr. Poland: An important point is the postmark. The French postmark is the 14th of August, while the London postmark is the 17th of August.

Mr. Vaughan: How long was it before that that she had heard from the child?

Mr. Poland: The previous letter is dated the 22nd of July.

Mr. Vaughan: She has not stated that.

Mr. Poland: Then clearly it must have been an emission on my part. I will look at the depositions.

Mr. Poland:  It was mentioned yesterday.

The Magistrate’s Clerk: It is not in the evidence of the mother.

Mr. Poland: Clearly it was an omission of mine. This letter you received on the 4th of August—you had received a letter from your daughter before this?—No, sir.

Just look at this letter—you had previously received that letter from your daughter on the 22nd of July?—Yes, this is the first one.

Of course there was no address to it, and you could not write?—No, sir.

You could not write until you had got the address from Mr. Booth on the 1st of August?—No, sir.

Mr. Russell: What is the date of Miss Fielder’s letter?

Mr. Poland: There is no date actually on the letter, but the French postmark is the 14th of August—the London postmark the 17th of August.

I suppose your husband saw this letter as well?—I don’t believe I read it to him. 

The last letter?—I don’t believe I did so.

But after you received that letter did you and your husband go to the office of the solicitor of the Treasury?—Yes.


And on Wednesday, the 19th, did your husband leave England with Police Inspector Von Turnow, to bring back your daughter?—Yes.

And on Saturday night, the 22nd of August, while your husband was away, did two gentlemen call at your house?—Yes.

You were out then, but on Sunday, the 23rd of August, two gentlemen did call upon you?—Yes.

Was Mr. Jacques one of the men?—Yes, but he then had moustaches and whiskers.

Mr. Jacques: I am the party. It will be explained why I have shaved. I have no desire to deny anything.

Mr. Poland: You also saw Mr. Thicknesse, the secretary of the Minors’ Protection Society?—Yes.

What did Mr. Jacques say to you?—He asked me if I would like to see my child.

What did you say to that?—I said, “Yes, very much indeed.”

What state were you in at this time?—What state I was in?

Just go on your own way. What took place then?—He said I should see her.

Well?—Mr. Thicknesse pulled a letter (produced) out of his pocket, and gave me it, saying, “This letter comes from Mr. Stead to you.”

He took another letter out of his pocket?—Yes. Mr. Thicknesse said it was my child’s letter, and he read it.

Your child’s letter—did he say how he got it?—No, sir, he did not.

What was it about?—I could not say now. Mr. Jacques pressed Mr. Thicknesse to give it to me, but he said, “No he was informed not to do so.”

Did he tell you to whom your child’s letter had been written?—No, sir.

Do you know to whom your child’s letter had been written? What was in it?—I really could not say.

What more passed about seeing your child?—He said I should go the next day to see the child.

Who said?—Mr. Thicknesse.

Did Mr. Jacques say anything to that?—He said, “Suppose she has the afternoon with her, and then we will talk over matters together, and there is no doubt Mrs. Armstrong will let her stay.”—I said, “No, I shall take her away.”

And then did he not say where the child was?—No, sir, he did not. My eldest daughter came into the room, and he said, “Is this your daughter?” and I said, “Yes.”

The daughter in service?—Yes.

And then?—He (Mr. Jacques) asked if she would like to see her sister, and she said, “Yes, very much indeed.” He said, “Then you shall see her to-morrow.” He also said, “Whatever you do don’t say anything to the police.”

Mr. Jacques: Oh!

Mr. Poland: Who said that?

Witness: Mr. Jacques. I promised that I would not, and I did not intend to.

Was anything more said?—He asked me what time next morning it would be convenient for me to go.

Was it arranged?—He said, “Any time that will suit you; suppose we say eleven.” I said, “Very well,” and they both walked out.

And then one came back?—Mr. Thicknesse, and we then arranged for ten o’clock.

And this letter was left with you?—Yes, sir.

And some little time after they had gone, did Inspector Borner call on you ?—About a quarter of an hour afterwards.

And then did you show him this letter?—Yes, and he took it.

This is the letter, of August 22, on the printed paper of the Pall Mall Gazette, “Mrs. Armstrong, Madame,” and signed, “I am, yours truly, the Chief Director.”

I am informed to-day for the first time that you wished your daughter Eliza restored to you. She is well taken care of and very happy, but, of course, if you and Mr. Armstrong really wish to have her returned to you, I am, and always have been, perfectly ready to comply with your request. As yet, however, you have not informed anyone with whom I have been in communication—whether the police or the Salvation Army people—that you desired her to be taken from a good situation in order to have her back at home. If, however, you should now inform me that you want to have her back, I shall deliver her over to you on receipt of your letter to that effect. I would suggest, however, that it you only wish to satisfy yourself that Eliza is all right and safe, that you and Mr. Armstrong should see her for yourselves, and that then she should return to her situation, where she is giving satisfaction and doing very well.

Mr. Poland: On the following morning—Monday, the 24th—did Inspector Borner come to you at about a quarter past nine, and afterwards did Mr. Thicknesse and Mr. Jacques call on you?—Yes, sir.

Mr. Vaughan: What is the date of the letter?

Mr. Poland: The 22nd August. (To witness): What did Mr. Thicknesse say to you?—He came into the room. He hesitated for a few minutes.

Was Inspector Borner there?—Yes.

What did Inspector Borner say?—He said I am an inspector of police. I said to Mr. Thicknesse, “Before we go, where are you going to take me to?” He said, “To Wimbledon;” and then I said, “I wish this gentleman to come with me”—meaning the inspector. He hesitated for a little while, and then said, “Well, yes, if he likes.”

Did Mr. Thicknesse state who he was?—Mr. Borner asked his name, and he said he was the secretary of the Minors’ Protection Society.

Then you and your eldest daughter—she was with you, then?—Yes, sir.

And Mr. Thicknesse and Inspector Borner left the house and went to the top of the street, and there you saw Mr. Jacques waiting?—Yes.

And you went in a cab to Waterloo Station, and so to Wimbledon, all of you together?—Yes.

And went to Mr. Stead’s house. Cambridge House?— Yes.

You went into a room there and saw Mrs. Stead and Miss Green, who had brought your daughter over from Paris?—Yes.

It was arranged you should see your daughter alone?—Yes.

Where did you go to see your daughter?—In- the dining-room, I think.

Before that did any conversation pass between you and Mr. Jacques about your daughter?—No, sir.

You and your eldest daughter and Eliza were left to yourselves in a room for some half hour or so?—Yes.

This is the first time you had seen your daughter since she was taken away on Derby day, the 3rd of June?— Yes, sir.

Of course you asked her many questions about what had occurred with her?—I did.

Now, after this, did Mr. Jacques speak to you about your daughter?—Yes, sir.

Was that at luncheon, or after luncheon?—At lunch time.

You all had luncheon together—Mr. Thicknesse, Mr. Jacques, Mrs. Stead, Miss Green, and your daughter?— Yes.

What did Mr. Jacques say about your daughter?—He asked me how I thought she looked. “She looks pretty well,” I said, “and I think she has grown.”

Yes. What more?—He said, “You won’t take her away with you? Don’t you think it will be much better for her to stay, and I will get her a good situation?”

What did you say to that?—I said, “No, I shall take her away.”

And then?—He said I will get her a situation nearer home, in the Bayswater-road.

What did you say to that?—Mr. Thicknesse said, “Let the woman think it over. In two or three days’ time she may consent.” Mr. Jacques said, “I will call on you, if you like, in two or three days’ time.”

What then?—Jacques took me upstairs into a room.

Those two men and yourself were there?—Yes.

Did Mr. Thicknesse write something there?—He had been writing.

And what did he say?—Mr. Jacques says, “I will pay you your wages.” He said, “I will double them as-you have had so much trouble.”

Yes?—He put down £2 10s., and I signed my hand.

Yes; and then?—I signed my name to it.

The paper was all written out?—Yes.

Was there anything said about outrage in the paper?—No.

How came you to know what was in it?—He read it in this way: that I received my daughter from Mr. Jacques and Mrs. Stead. She had been well cared for when she had been away, and had been in the hands of good people. I signed the paper. It was left with Mr. Jacques. (Letter produced and identified.) The letter was read by Mr. Poland as follows.—

August 24, 1885.

I have received my daughter Eliza safe and sound, together with double the wages agreed upon for all the time she has been away. My daughter tells me that she has been very happy and comfortable, that the people with whom she has been have been very kind to her. I am quite satisfied that she has been subjected to no outrage or bad usage.—Elizabeth Armstrong.

Witness) Ralph Thicknesse, Hon. Sec. to Minors’ Protection Committee. 1, Stone Buildings, Lincoln’s Inn, W.C.

After you signed that was there anything said by Mr. Jacques about the child being examined?—Yes. He said did I wish her to be examined, and I said “No.”

You were satisfied with what the child told you?—Yes.

You took the £2 10s., of course?—Yes.

Then you went downstairs, and saw Mrs. Stead and Miss Green, and then they all drove you to the railway station?—Yes, sir.

They all joined at the station?—Yes, sir.

Then you all went to the office of the solicitor of the Treasury in Whitehall?—Yes.

With the exception of the two letters you have mentioned, one with no address and the other with L’Oriol on it, are you sure you had no other letter? Quite sure, sir.

I believe on one occasion you were taken by train to Winchester?—Yes, by Mr. Hales, a reporter of Lloyd’s Newspaper, to try and find the child, but without success.

Do you remember the date of that?—No, it was a long time before I went to the solicitor of the Treasury.

Mr. Poland: That is all I have to ask this witness. I may have something to ask after the cross-examination.

The witness’s evidence having been read over, Mr. Russell asked if the witness did not add something when in the letter said to be sent to Mr. Booth she hoped Jesus would reward him.

Mrs. Armstrong. said she hardly knew what she said. She said something about Jesus rewarding him because, as he was a religious man, she thought it would touch him and make him send the child back again.

Mr. Russell asked a question with reference to the reading of the paper at Mr. Stead’s house.—Witness said the paper was read to her, but “not to the effect that was in it.”

Mr. Vaughan: Do you mean that the reading of the paper today did not agree with the reading of it at Mr. Stead’s?—No, it did not, sir.


Eliza Armstrong. took her seat at the table.

Mr. Russell: I think you told us yesterday that you were thirteen last April ?—Yes, sir.

Were you asked about your age by Mrs. Broughton or Mrs. Jarrett?—No, sir, I am quite sure of that.

Mrs. Broughton is a neighbour of yours?—Of my mother’s.

And you have lived with your mother?—Yes, ever since I was born.

Did Mrs. Broughton know your age?—I do not know.

Has Mrs. Broughton lived long in the street?—About two years.

Was she intimate with your mother?—Not very intimate. They spoke to one another now and then.

Did they ever go into one another’s houses?—No, sir.

Was Mrs. Broughton at all a friend of your mother?— Not that I know of.

How did they address one another?—They called one another “Mrs. Armstrong.” and “Mrs. Broughton.”

Used they to go and see each other to each other’s houses sometimes?—No, sir.

Then how did you come to say that they were intimate?—They spoke to one another now and then.

Mr. Vaughan: She said “not very intimate.”

Mr. C. Russell: But they never went to each other’s houses?—No, sir. .

Was Mrs. Broughton at all a friend of your mother’s?— Not that I know of.

Then they were not very close friends?—Not as I know of.


Does your father rent the whole of the house?—No, sir, only his room—one room on the first floor.

Has he only the one room?—One room, sir.

And you and your father and mother and your five sisters and brothers live in one room?—Yes, sir.

And is that the cooking-room, and living-room, and all?—Yes, sir.

How many others live in the same house?—Four more persons.

It is a cottage house?—Yes, there are two floors. Mr. and Mrs. Woodward lived in the room below, Mr. and Mrs. Austin in the back, and Mr. and Mrs. Thompson on the first floor.

There are six persons then, and with your family there are fourteen in all?—Yes, sir.

Does any one in your family earn money except your father and sister?—No.

Does he work for those who care to employ him?—Yes.

Sometimes busy and sometimes not busy?—Yes.

Where is your sister in service?—Spring-street.

Where is Spring-street?—Crawford-street.

How long has she been in service?—Four years.

In the same place?—Yes.

Do you recollect the person where she is in service?— Mrs. Long.

Do you recollect the number of the house?—No, sir.

You had been sent to the Board school as often as you could be spared?—Yes, sir.

There was no one at home to help your mother except yourself?—No, sir.

She had you only to nurse the baby?—Yes, sir.

You brought the baby into the street as much as possible in order that it might get the fresh air?—Yes, sir

And you were in the street on the morning of the 2nd. Of June?—Yes.

Playing with the other children in the street?—Yes.

You know a little girl named Alice?—Yes.

Who was she?—She was the little girl who was asked first.

Where did she live?—In the parlour.

Whose parlour?—It was not her mother, but her aunt.

With Mr. and Mrs. Woodward?—Yes.

Who was her aunt?—Mrs. Gurney. 

She lived in the parlour downstairs?—the parlour downstairs where you told me Mr. and Mrs. Woodward lived?—Yes.

And she lived in the parlour downstairs?—Yes, along with the little girl.

Who. is Mrs. Gurney?—She is our landlady, and lives a long way off.

You say the child was niece of Mrs. Gurney?—Her father and mother were dead, and she was brought to Mr. and Mrs. Woodward, and ever since she called her aunt.

But how has Mrs. Gurney to do with her?;—You asked me who was our landlady.

You mistake; I did not.

Were there any other children in the house?—No, sir.


How did you know Alice was the girl wanted?—Mrs. Woodward told my mother.

Was that on June 2?—Yes.

And wanted by Mrs. Jarrett?—Yes.

And asked by Mrs. Jarrett?—Yes.

And Mrs. Broughton?—Yes.

Did you know that Alice had been at Mrs. Broughton s, and seen Jarrett there?—I don’t know, sir.

Had you been told so?—Yes.

Mrs. Woodward would not let her go?—She was too old, sir.

What age was she?—She was going on for fifteen years.

And were you told that what she wanted was a little girl over thirteen?—Yes, sir.

Who told you that?—Mother.

And Mrs. Woodward told your mother that Alice was too old?—Yes, sir.

You heard her tell your mother?—Yes, sir

That what the woman at Mrs. Broughton’s wanted was a little girl just over thirteen?—Yes.

And you heard Mrs. Woodward tell your mother that?—Yes.

Was Mrs. Woodward willing to let her go?—Yes.

But Mrs. Jarrett would not have her because she was too old?—Yes, sir.

Was Mrs. Woodward an intimate friend of Mrs. Broughton so far as you know?—No, sir.

So far as you know your mother had not seen Mrs. Jarrett in her life before Tuesday night?—No, sir.

And so far as you know your mother had never seen Mrs. Jarrett before the Tuesday?—No, sir.

Was it Mrs. Woodward that suggested that you might do?—No, sir.

Who suggested that you might do—did anybody?—Mrs. Jarrett.

What day was it that Alice was at Mrs. Broughton’s and found she was too old and would not do?—The same day as I went.

What time in the morning would that be?—Ten o’clock in the morning.

You had seen Alice go into Mrs. Broughton’s?—No, sir.

I suppose Alice told you all about it afterwards?—I did not see her.

When the question of Alice going from Mrs. Woodward’s was on, was Mrs. Jarrett at Woodward’s at all?—No, sir.

But when the question of your going was up, did Mrs. Jarrett come to your house?—No, sir.

Did all take place at Mrs. Broughton’s both as regards Alice and yourself?—Yes.

Was the arrangement about you made through Mrs. Broughton ?—Yes.


But just before I go into another matter just tell me about one or two of your letters that have been read. Your attention has been called to one or two of your letters?—Yes.

The letter written to Mrs. Sullivan, read to you yesterday, did this letter state truly what you felt about the situation?—No, sir. I was frightened to put it in, because I feared that they would not send it. I was frightened to put that they were not kind to me.

Do you say any one was not kind to you?—I used to work very hard.

Well, you know you had to work very hard at home? —I had to wash for all.

Beyond having to work hard do you suggest that any one was unkind to you at all?—No, sir. 

You were comfortably clothed, comfortably fed?—Yes. 

And a comfortable bed to sleep on?—No, sir. 

You know you had not been accustomed to luxury?— I had to sleep in a cellar. 

Where?—Upstairs. (Laughter.) 

But where?—At Mrs. Berard’s. 

In a cellar up stairs?—Yes, at the top of the house. 

It is an attic, perhaps you mean?—Yes. 

Do you object to sleep in an attic?—No. 

Then you have no complaint to make about that?—No, sir. 

Have you to complain of how you were treated in Paris ?—No, sir.

You have no complaint to make at all?—No, sir.

You are strong and better?—Yes.

And much better fed than you were able to be at home with your parents?—Yes.

Mrs. Jarrett left you in Paris on the 5th of June. She was kind to you up to her leaving?—Yes.


After Mrs. Sullivan left Paris you wrote a letter saying the captain was very good, and that Mrs. Combe had gone away. Is this the letter?—Yes.

3, Avenue Lemoine, Pails, June 10,1885.

My dear Mrs. Sullivan,—I wright (sic) these few lines to you hoping you are quite well. I am very happy the Captain is very good to me. Mrs. Combe has gone away for a little time she is gone about her business she is soon coming back again. I hope you are getting on all right. I have asked the lord to bless you every night and I hope you are soon coming to see me, and I am getting on all right. I as plenty to eat and drink and if yon want to wright me a little letter do so I will be very pleased to have one from you and I hope I shall be able to go and see my mother soon and my little brothers and sisters. The Captain is going away for two months, and I am going to be a good girl while she gone, Well, that all I got to say at pleasant (sic) good by and god bless you for my sake. As I was laying in bed some little thoughts come in my head. I thought of one I thought of two, first of all I thought of you. (Three lines of kisses.)

I see on the top of the letter the handwriting is not yours.—No; it was Miss Green’s.

Did Miss Green address the letter?—I did. Miss Green wrote the address and gave it to me, and I addressed the letter.

Can you remember if the address was High Cliff, Winchester?—I think so.

Did you get an answer to the letter?—No, sir.

Was what was in the letter what you honestly thought and felt at the time?—Yes, sir.

Was Mrs. Combe kind to you?—Yes, sir.

Did you write to her?—Yes, sir.

Did she write to you?—Yes, sir.

You also received a letter from Mr. Combe, her son?— Yes, sir.

Do you recollect when it was you received the letter from Mrs. Sullivan?—I think it was when I was in Paris.

Now I want to go back, please, to Tuesday, the 2nd of June. What time was it that you were called in to Mrs. Broughton’s, No. 37, Charles-street?—About eleven o’clock.

Has Mrs. Broughton a room in the house or the whole house?—She has got a room in the front part.

Does she live there with her husband?—Yes.

They have got no children?—Yes, sir. I don’t know the other people that live in the house.


Had ever Mrs. Broughton called you into the house before that day?—No, sir.

How long were you there before you went to your mother?—About five or ten minutes.

Your mother was in the house at the time?—Yes, sir.

Did it not occur to you as odd that Mrs. Broughton did not go to your mother?—No, sir.

Like a prudent little girl you went to your mother?— Yes.

You would take an engagement if you could get one?— Yes.

Your father has rather hard times of it?—Yes, sir.

Is your sister able to send anything home?—No, sir.

“What are her wages?—Five shillings a week.

And she finds herself in clothes?—Yes, sir.

She is seventeen years of age?—Yes, sir.

You went to your mother and she came at once:— Yes, sir.

Do you recollect what you said when you went to your mother?—I said, “A lady wants a little girl to go, to a place.”

Now, was it before that that you heard that Mrs. Woodward told your mother that the little girl must be thirteen years of age?—It was after that.

And then your mother went to Mrs. Broughton’s?—Yes, sir.

And did you stay in the house?—Yes, sir. 

How long was your mother there?—She stayed a quarter of an hour, and I remained in the house with the baby.

What took place between your mother and Mrs. Broughton and Mrs. Jarrett you, of course, cannot tell us?—No, sir.

Were you present at any discussion that took place between your mother and Mrs. Broughton?—No, sir.

Are you quite sure?—Yes, sir. 

Neither on the Tuesday or Wednesday?—No, sir. 

Are you sure there is no mistake about that, child?— Yes, sir.

I do not want you to be under any misapprehension. Were you, either on the Tuesday or Wednesday present at any discussion that took place between your mother, Mrs. Jarrett, and Mrs. Broughton as to where you were going to service?—Yes, sir.

You told me a moment ago you were not?—I did not understand you, sir. It was Monday when mother went into Mrs. Broughton’s and said I should not go.

Up to this moment no one has said anything about Monday. Do you know what day you went in the bus to Albany-street?—I think it was Wednesday.

Had you been spoken to about going at all the day before?—Yes; on the Tuesday.

Up to that time had you been present at any conversation that took place between your mother, Mrs. Broughton, and Mrs. Jarrett, as to your going into service?—No.

Did you go back to Mrs. Broughton’s on the Tuesday?—No.

Nor saw Mrs. Broughton nor Mrs. Jarrett on the Tuesday ?—No.

Then so far as Tuesday is concerned you were not present at any discussion at which your mother was also present:—No, sir.

I do not wish to flurry you, child, I want you to collect yourself. Are you clear that on the Tuesday you were not present at any discussion with Jarrett and Broughton about going into service?—Yes, sir.

What happened on the Wednesday?—Mother went up to Mrs. Broughton’s about twelve o’clock.

Did you see her go?—Yes. I was against the door in the street, with the child.

Had Mrs. Broughton sent for her on the Wednesday morning so far as you know?—No, sir.

She went to Mrs. Broughton’s not knowing whether Mrs. Jarrett was there or not?—Yes, sir.

Did she tell you what she was going about?—No, sir. 

You did not go with her?—No.

Did she come back?—Yes, sir; she was away about half an hour.

And you, standing against the door, could see her there, and saw her come away?—I was upstairs when my mother came away.

Did she then tell you that you were to go to service?—Yes.

Just tell us what she said.—She said Mrs. Broughton said it was all safe; she had known her so many years.

Was any one present besides yourself, your mother, and the baby?—No.

You had not seen Mrs. Jarrett or Mrs. Broughton that morning up to the time your mother came back?—No, sir. 

You are quite sure of that?—Yes.

And when she came back she said you were to go, and it was all safe?—Yes.

Up to that time you had not been present at any discussion between Jarrett and Broughton as to your going into service. You are clear about that?—Yes, sir.

I must ask you, child, how did you come to tell us, as you did yesterday, in answer to this gentleman, that after Mrs. Jarrett had asked you if you would go into service, you went and spoke to your mother, and that you went with your mother to Mrs. Broughton’s. And that she asked your mother if you could go into service, and your mother said, “No; why can’t you get servants where you live?”—and that she said she could, but that she thought a poor girl would like a good place;—is not that something your mother told you?—Yes.

You were not present at a word of that?—No.

“My mother said ‘ No,’ and then I left the house with my mother.” That is not correct?—No, sir.

How did you come to tell us yesterday that you heard all this, and that after it took place your mother said she would not allow you to go to service?—My mother told me all that.

And did she tell you to state that here?—Yes.

Then how did you come to state it yourself?—I made a mistake.

And did she tell you to state that here?—Yes.

Then how did you come to state it yourself?—I made a mistake.

And how did you come to state that you left with your mother?—There was a mistake there. She told me that after she left the house.

Your mother told you all this. Do you know that you are solemnly swearing to what you say?—Yes, sir.

How did you then give it to us that you left with your mother?—I was mistaken.

How did you make the mistake?—No answer.


We have it that your mother went to Mrs. Broughton about eleven in the morning. That you saw with your own eyes?—Yes.

And after a little time, being first against the door with the baby, you went upstairs, and your mother came back, and said you were to go to service, and it was all safe?—Yes.

Now, you told us that your mother told you to get ready to go and see Mrs. Sullivan at Broughton’s?—Yes

Did you do so?—Yes. I washed myself, and went to Mrs. Broughton’s.

Did you take your hat and boots with you?—Yes, sir. 

Ready to start at once, in fact, if wanted?—Yes, sir.

Did you think that you were to leave at once with Mrs. Sullivan?—Yes.

Do you know where your father was that Wednesday morning?—He was out, sir.

What? Do you know where he was?—No, sir. 

Did you see him on the Wednesday up to eleven o’clock?—I saw him at breakfast time.

Just think. Was one word, so far as you know, said to your father about your going away with any one?—No, sir.

Or about your having been to Mrs. Broughton’s the day before?—No, sir.

Did your father know nothing at all about it so far as you know?—No, sir.


After you had tidied yourself up, did you then go across to Mrs. Broughton?—Yes, sir.

Your mother, too?-Yes. My mother was with me.

Did your mother leave you there?—No, sir.

You along with your mother remained there about a quarter of an hour. Do you recollect what took place in that quarter of an hour?—Mother showed Mrs. Sullivan my clothes, and she said they was not good enough to go in.

They we’re rather shabby, were they? What next?—Mrs. Sullivan said she would buy me some, because her husband was a particular man. Is there anything else, child, that you can recollect?—No, sir.

Was one word said about wages?—No, sir.

Your mother never told you that you were to get any wages?—No, sir.

And you were never told?—No.

So that you think nothing was said about wages? You are clear about that?—Yes.

Was anything said about stopping the clothes out of the first month’s wages?—No.

Or about advancing a month’s wages?—No. I am quite sure of that.


Was anything said about where you were going to?—Yes she did mention the name to mother.

Are you clear about that?—Yes.

Can you recollect the name?—No, sir.

Would you know it if you heard it?—Yes, sir.

Do you know that yesterday you mentioned the name?— No. 

What? — No, sir.

You were only examined yesterday, child. Do you not remember that yesterday you did mention the name of the place? Just try and think. — Winchester, I think.

That was not the name of the place you mentioned. Just try and recollect again?— At first she told me she was going to take me to Albany-street.

Was that when you went over with your mother after tidying yourself?—Yes.

Was your mother there?— No, she had left then.

Except telling you that she was going to take you to Albany-street, did Mrs. Sullivan say anything at all in your presence about where she was going to take you to?— No.

You are sure of that?—Yes.

Did you not yesterday say that Mrs. Sullivan mentioned about her taking you where she lived?—Wimbledon, I think it was.

Mr. Russell then read the shorthand notes of the previous day, by which it appeared that the girl was asked, “Did you hear where the good home was situated?” and replied, “At Wimbledon, I think.”

Mr. Russell: Now, child, you have told me you stated a good deal yesterday not of your own knowledge but what your mother told you. Up to the time that you were taken away by Mrs. Sullivan in the bus you had not heard from your mother or from anybody else where you were going to?—Yes.

And it had not been mentioned in your presence, or in your mother’s presence that you were going to any particular place? All you knew was that you were going with Mrs. Sullivan?—Yes, sir.


Then you were taken out to get clothes. You were taken to various places for the clothe. To begin with, you got outside  clothing. A frock?—Yes, sir.

A hat, which was not trimmed, but ribbon to trim it?—Yes.

Was it a smart hat ?—Yes, sir. 


And a scarf or necktie ?—Yes.

Then the same day you got a complete change of underclothing? Or, in fact, your clothes were entirely new? They cost a good deal of money, child?—Yes.

Two or three or four pounds? Do you know what they cost?—No, sir. The boots was 3s.11d. (Laughter.)

Mr. Russell: You saw Mrs. Sullivan pay for the articles? Oh, well, I have the price of them, and I will see whether you are correct. I am told the boots were 4s.6d.

Witness: Three and elevenpence halfpenny. (Laughter.) 

Mr. Russell: You tried on several pairs? 

Witness: I think the frock was 8s. 6d. (Laughter.) 

Mr. Russell: It was of a dark maroon colour. Oh! you have it on. Well, I am told that was 9s. 11d. (Laughter.) These figures may not be accurate. They are only from recollection. A hat, one and elevenpence halfpenny, and the trimmings cost a good deal more than the hat. Then you had the underclothing, and the day before you started the cloak you are now wearing. After you had got this clothing you were a bright, smart-looking girl, and quite pleased with yourself?—Yes, sir.

And you went back home, did you not, to show off your finery?—Yes.

Did you not see your father at home at dinner time?— No, sir.

Did you not see your father at all?—are you sure?— after you had bought the clothes?—No, sir. 

Was he not at home at dinner?—No, sir. 

But your mother was, and you showed off the clothes to her?—Yes, sir; they was in a parcel; I did not have them on.

You brought them to her to show them, and then you look off the old clothes, put these on, and your mother assisted you?—Yes.

And now will you tell me, please, did you have dinner at home; were any of your brothers and sisters there? —There was three little brothers and one little sister, and me and my mother. I cannot recollect whether my father was there or not.

I must really put it to you. Was he there?—Yes. 

Why did you not say so at once, child? You did not recollect it before, but you do now?—Yes, sir.

Did you show him these nice things?—No, sir; they was in Mrs. Broughton’s room, and mother went in to look at them.

Mr. Russell: Oh, I beg your pardon. I misunderstood for a moment. Had you them on when you went to dinner?—No.

They were left at Mrs. Broughton’s?—Yes.

Was it not an odd thing that they should be left there, and not brought in to your mother’s?—She told me to get myself ready, and put them on in Mrs. Broughton’s room.

Did not that strike you as an odd thing, that you, going away, should be dressed in another person’s room?—No, sir. Mrs. Jarrett said that she would put the clothes on me all right.


I want to know are you sure that you had not on the new clothes when you went to dinner?—No, sir; after.

Child, attend to this: You said yesterday, in answer to my learned friend, this gentlemen here: “Jarrett afterwards took me out to buy the clothes. We went back to Mrs. Broughton’s, where I put off my old things and on the new things. I then went home, where I had dinner with my father and mother.”—I did not have the clothes on when I went to dinner.

Then how did you come to make this statement yesterday?—I don’t know, sir.

Now, are you really certain of what you say now?—I went to dinner before I had my clothes on.

Did you go to your own house after you had your clothes on?—Yes.

Did you see your father and mother?—I saw my mother.

Before you got your dinner you did not have your new clothes on that had been bought for you?—Yes. 

I suppose you told your mother about it? Your mother had been over to Mrs. Broughton’s to see them?—Yes, sir.

Did you not put on the boots at the shop and walk away in them?—Yes, sir.

When you went home to dinner after the clothes had been bought was it mentioned to your father that they had been bought?—No, sir.

Not a syllable said about it by your mother or by you?—No.

Were you told to say nothing about them?—No.

How does it come, then, that the fact of having them was not mentioned to your father?—I didn’t tell him nothing about it.

And nothing was told him about your going?—No.

Was he told, so far as you know, either about your new clothes or about your going away from home?—Yes.

When?—In the morning on Wednesday.

What time?—When mother come from Mrs. Broughton’s. That was a little after eleven o’clock.

Were you present at any time when anything was mentioned to your father about your new clothes?—No, sir.

Was anything ever mentioned to your father about your new clothes?—Mother said I was going away to a place; that is all.

You stated before that your father was only there at breakfast, but not after. You now say that he was in the house at eleven o’clock?—Yes.

You had forgotten before?—Yes.

If your mother has said that she did not mention the matter to your father she said what was incorrect?—Yes, sir.

Did you hear it mentioned to your father, or has your mother told you —Mother told me.

When your mother came back at eleven o’clock and said you were to go, you went to buy the clothes?—Yes. 

And came back about half-past one to dinner?—Yes. 

Then you went across to Mrs. Broughton’s and got on the things?—Yes, sir.

Was it mentioned you were to start at three, or about three o’clock?—Yes, three o’clock.

Your mother was to come and see you off?—Yes. 

You did not give your father a kiss and bid him goodbye?—No.

Did you not think that was odd?—I thought that I would see him again.


Your mother did not turn up when you went away?— No.

She was to go round to the Board school to give the key to your brother to let your father in?—Yes.

Your mother intended to go part of the way?—Yes.

Do you know what became of your mother that night?

Mr. Poland: She did not see her mother.

You were disappointed at not seeing your mother. She was a long time gone, and you could not wait on her?—No, sir.

Were the schools—Board schools—close by?—Two or three minutes distant.

Do you know a public-house close by called the Black Man?—Yes.

Did you see where your mother went when she said she went to the Board school?—No.

Of course you don’t know whether your mother went to the Board school or not?—No.

I think Mrs. Sullivan and Mrs. Broughton went to a public-house?—Yes, The Sailor.

What took place in Albany-street? You saw Mr. Stead there. Was he kind to you?—Yes, sir.

Did he speak to you about leaving your miserable home for a comfortable home?—I cannot remember, sir. He asked if I went to the Board school.

At all events you were pleased with the change?—Yes.


Now can you recall when you were taken to Milton-street to see Mdme. Mourez, whether there was any difficulty in getting in?—No difficulty.

And the same thing when you got to the place in Poland-street. You were admitted by a woman, and there was no difficulty?—No.

I have only one question to ask you about that. You told us about Mrs. Sullivan giving you something in a bottle and telling you to sniff it?—Yes, sir.

Did she put it to your nose?—Yes, sir.

And then you took it in your hand and sniffed it?— Yes, and threw it away.

You did not go to sleep at all, I think?—No.

And I think there was a light in the room?—Yes; but I could not see round the bed.

Of course, I quite understand; but there was a light in the room the whole time?—Yes.


When did you first see Mdme. Combe?—On the following morning, before we went to the railway station, in the house where Jarrett and I had slept.

Whom else did you see?—Another young lady.

The one you referred to as being present at Albany-street?—Yes.

Mrs. Combe was kind to you, and spoke kindly to you?—Yes.

And you felt safe in going with her?—Yes; she said she had children of her own.

And you afterwards found this to be true?—Yes; but the children were not in Paris, they were at school.

You first said no, but afterwards you rather took to the idea, and thought you would like to be in her service?— Yes.

Was Mdme. Combe dressed as she is now?—She had on a cloak.

You know what the Salvation Army is—you know you were one of the army for a time.

Mr. Poland: She was a raw recruit.

Mr. Russell: But a recruit belongs to the army.

You have seen them marching in the streets of Marylebone, perhaps—(a laugh)—and know the uniform?— Yes.

In the house in which you breakfasted I think she told you she belonged to the Salvation Army, and when you agreed to go into the service, you knew where you were going, at any rate so far as the Salvation Army is concerned?—Yes.

Was it she that brought you clothes to travel in?—No

The other lady?—Yes.

Mrs. Sullivan went on to Paris with you, and bid you “Good bye” on the 5th of June?—Yes.

That was the day after you got there?—Yes.

And when you desired to write to any one were you allowed to write?—Yes.

And you wrote to several people?—They were all read before I sent them.

You have never been at boarding-school, I suppose? You did write several letters to your mother?—Yes.

Did you write more than once to Mrs. Jarrett?—No.

Did you write to Mrs. Combe?—Once.

Then you wrote four or five letters during the ten weeks you were away?—Yes.

And no objection was made to your writing to anybody you desired to write to?—No, sir.

When Mrs. Sullivan bid you “Good bye,” did she tell you to be a good girl and attend to directions?—Yes.

Did she give you good advice?—She said they were all good people.

Just see if you can recollect anything else Mrs. Sullivan said to you before she went away?—She said that Mrs. Broughton never gave me up for a servant; she gave me up for something else.

For something worse?—Yes.

Did you believe her?—No, sir.

Why?—Because Mrs. Broughton seemed to be a nice woman.

But Mrs. Sullivan was kind and considerate to you? Yes.

And seemed to have your interest at heart?—Yes.

You are sure that on Friday, the 5th of June, Mrs. Sullivan made that statement to you?—Yes.

That Mrs. Broughton had not given you for a servant, but for something worse?—Yes.

Did she say anything else that you can recollect?— No, sir. She said Mdme. Combe would buy me some more underclothes.

And these clothes were bought for you afterwards?— Yes.

And was that all she said, child?—Yes.

Are you sure?—Yes.

Did she ask you to write to her?—I cannot remember that, sir.

Try and recollect whether she did not do so, in order that you might let her know how you were going on, and whether you were happy?—Yes.

And it was because she asked you to do that that you wrote to her that letter that I have put into your hand?—Yes.

She bade you “good-bye” and kissed you. And she was affectionate and kind to you?—Yes.

And did she say where she was going?—She told me that another lady would fetch me soon, and that she was going to get her place all ready.

Are you sure she said that?—Yes.

This interview was on the 5th of June?—Yes.

And you wrote to-her a letter five days after?—Yes.

You did not hear from her in the meantime?—No.

You were content to remain where you were?—Yes.

And were not at all disappointed at not being sent for at all?—Yes.

You make no allusion to her not having sent the lady to fetch you?—No, sir.

Are you sure she said it?—Yes, sir.

But you were quite happy and contented to remain where you were, and had given up any idea of going to Mrs. Sullivan’s?—Yes.

You then went to L’Oriol?—Yes.


And there your principal business was nursing the baby?—Yes.

And then the family left for the country?—Yes.

And you went to them afterwards?—Yes.

The next thing was a visit from “Captain” Raby and another gentleman, who said you were to go to Paris?— Yes.

You were very sorry when you heard that?—Yes.

You liked the country?—Yes.

And you began to cry?—I did not want to go along with the men.

You were not sorry to leave the place; you would have been willing to go with ladies?—Yes.

What objection had you to go with the men?—I don’t know. They told me that they belonged to the Salvation Army, and as I was told they were very good men, I left off crying.

And were you content to go?—Yes.

But you had grown rather fond of the baby?—Yes.

And you were rather fond of Mrs. Berard and the family?—Yes.

They had been kind to you?—Yes.

You went with these two gentlemen to Paris?—With “Captain” Raby.

I hope he was kind and attentive on the journey?— Yes.

And he brought you safely to Parts?—Yes.

Then afterwards you left Paris and reached London on August 23?—Yes.

And you had talks with Mr. and Mrs. Stead and Miss Green?—Yes.

They seemed to be kind to you?—Yes.

And interested in you?—Yes.

Did they seem to be advising you for the best?—Yes.

They seemed to be taking an interest in you?—Yes.

I think Jacques said that you had better go to a respectable place than back to a drunken home?—Yes.

You said nothing to that?—I said I would ask mother I knew his face when he came into the garden.

You recognized him as one of the people you had sect at Poland-street?—Yes, sir.

And when he said you had better go to a decent place than to a drunken home, you said nothing?—I said would see what mother said.


Your mother does drink, I am afraid, child?—Not very often; for she goes to work sometimes.

You mean to say that she does not get drunk very often?—Yes, sir.

Does she send you to the public house?—She never sent me, sir.

What was the house she went to?—The Black Man sometimes. Father asked her sometimes if she wanted a glass of anything, and sometimes she went with him for a glass.

No other public-house?—No, sir.

The Sailor?—No, sir. She never used to go there.

Do you say the only house she went to was the Black Man?—Sometimes the Phoenix.

Where is the Phoenix?—In Union-street.

The Phoenix and the Black Man?—Yes. But she never seemed drunk.

Never seemed drunk?—Yes.

I am sorry to put it to you, but she did seem to be “fuddled”?-No, sir.

What do you mean, did not seem drunk?—She never seemed drunk to me.

She did not take you about with her?—No, sir.

Have you heard of her being fined for drunkenness?— No, sir.

Nor for using improper language?—No, sir.

Nor riotous conduct?—No, sir.

You never heard of any of these things?—No, sir.

Since you came home have you learned that your mother——


Mr. Poland (interrupting) objected to Mr. Russell taking such latitude, for he was now asking the child what she had been told.

Mr. Russell said he did not know anything about latitude or longitude—he claimed his rights simply and nothing more.

Mr. Poland: That is quite sufficient.

Mr. Russell denied that he had been allowed any latitude in any sense. He had simply exercised his rights; he had not enjoyed any privilege.

Mr. Poland: I am not suggesting it for a moment.

Mr. Russell: Very well.

This concluded Mr. Russell’s cross-examination.

Mr. Waddy said as to cross-examination, as at present advised, he thought Mr. Russell had gone over the whole ground.

Mr. Vaughan Williams (for Mr. Jacques) said he did not care to put any questions to the child. Some questions had been put as to his client’s identity, but there was no question of identity; his client avowed all he did.

Mr. Stead said he would consider whether he would put any questions after the adjournment, but probably he would have none.

The court adjourned for luncheon at ten minutes past two o’clock, and resumed at three o’clock.

Mr. Russell said there were two other points he wanted to ask the child, and the child was brought back into court.

I forgot to ask you when you told me as to the letter you wrote to Mrs. Sullivan, did you get an answer from her? Just see if that is it?—Yes.

Mr. Russell said this was a letter written to the witness by Mrs. Sullivan.

Mr. Poland: Either left behind her or taken possession of.

Mr. Russell: Either left behind or taken possession of; I cannot tell.

Hope Cottage, High Cliffe, Berend, Winchester.

My dear Child,—I received your beautiful letter wich (sic) I have been longing to get from you, for I forgot your address and Mrs. Combe promised to write to me about you, so I was expecting lo hear from you. I am not coming to see you but you are coming to me. A lady is coming to fetch you from Paris straight to me. I will meet you at the station when you get out of the train. You are to come to my nice little cottage with me, and later on you shall go to see your mother and brothers, but you are God’s child now, I hope you are trying to be good for Jesus; and then you can go home and tell your mother and father what Jesus has done for you. I pray for you every night and morning, my dear child, and ask Him to watch over you and lake care of you. I must say goodbye, my dear child. God bless you is my earnest prayer for you till you come to me wich (sic) I think will be the end of next week or the beginning of the week after. But Captain will tell you when. My love to all and the Captain. I am your true friend, Mrs. Sullivan.

Mr. Russell: There is no date to this, but it’s an answer to the letter of the 5th.


You recollect leaving Wimbledon on the Monday and coming to an office at Whitehall?—Yes.

Did you make a statement there?—Yes.

Were you asked questions and answered them?— Yes.

Will you tell me who was in the room when you were asked those questions and answered them?—Mother.

And who else—Inspector Borner?—Yes.

Another inspector?—Yes.

And who else?—Father.

And the gentleman who took your answers?—Yes.

And who put the questions?—Yes.

Was there any one else besides Mr. Pollard assisting him?—No.

Was your mother asked questions?—Yes.

In your presence?—Yes. After I gave my statement she gave hers.

Were you present during her statement?—Yes.

Your father was present at both statements?—Yes. Father made no statement.

During your examination did your mother ask any questions?—No, sir.

And your answers were taken down in writing?—Yes.

Did you sign it?—Yes. I signed the paper.

Which was read over to you, I suppose?—Yes.


Mr. Overend: Did you see any one outside the house in Milton-street after you left Albany-street on the Tuesday?—Yes. Some gentleman.

Do von know who that gentleman was?—No.

Did that person come and speak to Mrs. Jarrett or to you?—To Mrs. Jarrett, before we went into the house.

Did you see any person when you came out of the house?—No, sir.

Did Mrs. Jarrett knock at the door?—Yes, sir.

By whom was the door opened?—A servant opened the door.

What kind of a room were you shown into?—A place with green baize curtains all round and about the bed.

Were you shown into another room?—Yes; there was a doorway with some curtains.

Are you quite sure it was not some curtains that separated the rooms?—Yes; but there was a door as well.

When you went into the first room was there anything said to you about the French lady?—No, sir.

Was there anything said to the French lady by Mrs. Jarrett?—No, sir.

How long did you remain in the first room without any conversation occurring? —About half an hour.

At the end of the half-hour who was the first to speak?:—Mrs. Jarrett. I cannot remember what she said.

Did the French lady or Mrs. Jarrett say anything?— No.

Did you again stay silent for half an hour?—Yes.

Was anything said to you by Mrs. Jarrett?—No.

Who was the first to speak again?—They both got up, Mrs. Jarrett and the French lady, and went into the back room, taking me in with them.

Did Mrs. Jarrett or the French lady say, “Come into the next room”?—The French lady.

Did Mrs. Jarrett say anything then?—No, sir.

Did Mrs. Jarrett say anything to you in the next room?:—No, sir.

Was there anybody in this room?—I did not took round.

Was there a bed?—Yes. I was not placed on it.

How long did you remain in the room?—About a quarter of an hour.

And where were you during the time you were in this second room?—Standing up.

Was Mrs. Jarrett standing up?—Sitting down. I think.

Can you say whether Mrs. Jarrett was in the second room at all?—I don’t remember.

Was the French lady in the second room?—Yes, sir.

Was she sitting down or standing up?—She was kneeling down.

Before she knelt down did she say anything?—No.

Will you tell me what happened after she knelt down?—(Witness then described the examination.)

Did she say anything to you while she was doing this?—No, sir.

Why did you not call out when she did this?—Because I was too frightened.

Mrs. Jarrett could hear you even if you were in the other room had you called out?—Yes.

You were not hurt in any way, were you?—No,

How long was the French lady kneeling before you?—About two minutes.

I think you said you were in this inner room with the French lady for a quarter of an hour?—Yes. She never said anything, she looked at me.

Did you say anything to her?—No, sir.

Who left the room first?—We both left together.

Did you say anything when she went out?—Yes, sir. I told Mrs. Jarrett that the French lady was a dirty woman.

Did you tell Mrs. Jarrett the circumstances of your being in the next room with the French lady?—No, sir.

Are you quite certain that Mrs. Jarrett never spoke to the French lady of your being her niece?—No, sir, they went up to a room together. I do not know what they said.

While Mrs. Jarrett and the French lady were together are you quite sure Mrs. Jarrett never used the words aunt and niece?—I do not know, sir.

Why did you not complain to Mdme. Combe?—I never told them anything.

Why did you not tell her?—I don’t know.

Why did you not make a complaint to Miss Fielder or to Miss Green?—I don’t know.

Why did you not make a complaint to your mother in Mr. Stead’s house?—Because she knew.

You say your mother knew—you had not told your mother. Were you not a whole half-hour at least with your mother and your sister?—I told her when I got home. I was going into Mr. Stead’s house, but mother said she knew all about what they had done to me.

What were the exact words your mother did say?— She asked how I was treated.

You have already told us that you were kindly treated?—Yes, sir.

Did you tell any one what occurred in Milton-street?— No, sir.

Very well, how did your mother know?—I don’t know.

When was the first occasion when you told any one about the Milton and Poland street matters?—I told Mr. Pollard.

And was Mr. Pollard the first to ask, or did you volunteer to tell him?—He asked me.

Mr. Stead: I have no desire to ask any questions. I am perfectly satisfied with the crucial manner in which the cross-examination has been conducted.

Mr. Poland’s re-examination.

Re-examined by Mr. Poland: You told the whole story at the Treasury of everything that occurred from the Tuesday down to the end?—Yes, sir.

Questions were asked of you in your mother’s presence?—Yes, sir.

And you told everything about it?—Yes, sir.

You said you knew Mrs. Combe was a lady in the Salvation Army?—Yes.

She said she had young children of her own?—Yes.

Did you understand you were to go into Mrs. Combe’s house or into the service of the Salvation Army?—Into Mrs. Combe’s house.

You never knew until you went to Paris that you were going to the Salvation Army?—No.

Now, you said there was no objection to your writing letters; but at both places were they always seen by the people at the house?—Yes.

And you were told by Mdme. Combe not to put the address on the letters because she said she had some reason for it?—Yes.

Did she tell you what the reason was?—No, sir.

In this letter of yours to Mrs. Sullivan I see the address in not in your writing?—No; Miss Green addressed it.

You don’t know the address?—The address was 3, Avenue Lemoine, which is the headquarters of the female training department of the Salvation Army in Paris.

You have said the woman Jarrett was kind, and considerate, and affectionate to you. Was she that when she took you to Poland-street?

[Counsel for the defence was understood to object to this question.]

Do you mean she was kind to you except what took place on the Tuesday and Wednesday?—Yes, sir.

This concluded the examination, and the girl’s evidence was read over to her.


Mr. Russell: I stated yesterday that there were important reasons why Mrs. Jarrett should be out on bail. These will involve her going to Paris. I presume there is no difficulty in her doing so.

Mr. Vaughan: No.


Mrs. Armstrong was then brought in to undergo her cross-examination.

Mr. Russell: Between the 3rd of June and the 34th of August you had not seen your child?—No.

When did you first become uneasy about her?—When I got the Gazette.

That was about a month after she had gone?—Yes.

Mr. Russell: The Pall Mall Gazette’s article was dated July 6. You don’t yourself ordinarily read the Pall Mall Gazette?—No, I never read it before or since.

Some neighbours called your attention to it?—Yes.

Who was the neighbour?—Mrs. Featherstone, who lived opposite me.

Had you known her long?—For many years.

Had you previous to that any anxiety about your child? —Yes, because I had not heard of her.

But you have just said you were first anxious when you saw the Gazette?That made me more anxious.

Then you wish to correct that answer?—Of course I do.

Why of course?—Because I do. (Shouting in a loud voice.) Well, you are not going to baffle me. You are not going to cross-examine me as you have done my child. (Applause at the back of the court.)

Mr. Vaughan: Just keep yourself quiet and answer the question.

Mrs. Armstrong: Am I bound to answer these questions?

Mr. Vaughan: Yes; keep yourself quiet, and quietly answer the questions, and be careful to consider the answers you give.

Mr. Russell: It might perhaps be as well to let Mrs. Armstrong go on in her own way. It is no pleasure to me, Mrs. Armstrong, to put to you these questions, but I have to do it. You told me in answer to my first question as to when you first began to be anxious about your child that it was when you read the Gazette. Do you wish to correct that?—I was anxious before, but I was more anxious then.


Well, we will begin again. When did you begin first to be anxious about your child?—About a fortnight or three weeks after she had gone.

That would be about a week or ten days before you saw the Gazette?—Yes.

When did you first go to Mrs. Broughton to inquire about the child?—Two or three times in the first month.

Was it a fortnight or three weeks after the child had gone?—It may be so.

Can you speak with any more accuracy?—No, I cannot. 

Before seeing the Gazette how often were you at Mrs. Broughton’s?—I can’t say. When I read the Gazette I went a third time.

What inquiry did you make when you went to Mrs. Broughton?—I asked if she had any letter from my child. She said: ” No,” she had no letter.

Was that all that was said?—Yes.

After that you got anxious, and you asked for your child’s address?—No. Mrs. Broughton said she would bring me the letter if one came.

That was the only extent to which you went as to ascertaining where your child was?—Yes.

Did you never ask Mrs. Sullivan for the address of your child?—No.

Did you know her address at any time?—No.

“I did not ask the address.”

When she left you did you not ask to what address you should send to her in case you wanted to do so?— I was not told. I thought Mrs. Broughton knew all about it.

If that be so, why did you not get the address if you wanted to know where your child was?—I learned from the letter which came that Mrs. Jarrett was in Winchester, and I wrote to Manchester instead. That was my mistake.

Why didn’t you go to Mrs. Broughton and ask for the address?—I did not think there was any use. Mrs. Jarrett had said that her husband was a commercial traveller, and as they were travelling about I thought they would have no address.

As a matter of fact, you did not inquire of Mrs. Broughton as to whether she had the address?—I did inquire.

I thought you told me scarcely a moment ago that you did not inquire the address?—I said when the letter came to Mrs. Broughton from Winchester, and she brought it to me, I wrote to Manchester. I gave the Winchester letter back to Mrs. Broughton, and my reply came back to me, “Not known.”

But your reply would come back in the course of a day or two?—No; it did not come back for a week.

You say that that letter with the Winchester address came a week after your child left. That brings us down from the 3rd to the 10th of June, and the letter returned from Manchester took a week to come back, which brings it down to the 16th of June. Now, finding you had made a mistake about the address, did you go to Mrs. Broughton?—No, I did not tell her I had written the letter.


Had your neighbours spoken to you about the disappearance of your child?—Yes, two or three of them did, and said how strange it was I had not heard from her.

Tell me one who said this to you?—One was Mrs. Stallard, who lives opposite to me.

Another?—Mrs. Nudds, who lives opposite to me. And there were several others, but I cannot exactly say who they were. But a good many people stopped me in the street and asked me about the child, when they knew I had not heard.

Did any of them say to you that you had sold your child?—They did not say that I had sold my child, but they said it seemed very much like it after the story in the Gazette.

But before the Gazette did some of them say if you had not sold your child it looked very much like it?—Yes.

And then, when you saw the Gazette, it made you more uneasy?—It did.

You read it?—I read it.

Did you think a case there described referred to your child?—It said the child was taken away on Derby day for the purpose of going into service, and that made me think it was so.

That was the article which described how a child of thirteen was bought for £5?—Yes.

But you had not sold your child for £5?—Certainly not, but when Mrs. Broughton admitted having had a sovereign I began to think there was something in it.

You mean to say you thought money must have been paid for the child?— I thought so.

Let me go with the article—”At the beginning of the Derby week”—Did that make you think it was your child?—Is that the “Lilly” case?

This is “How a child was bought for £5″—Is that the case of “Lily”?

“Lily’s” name is mentioned later. I want to see what are the parts which made you think it could refer to your child.—Yes; I did think that it was my child.

Whom did you understand by (reading from the the account of “Lily”) “an old hand in the work of procuration,” Mrs. Jarrett?—Yes; I did think so.

What made you think that she was “an old hand” at the work?—I don’t know what made me think so, but I did think so.

You, cannot recall what made you think so?—No, I cannot.

Was there any conversation between you and Mrs. Broughton about Mrs. Jarrett? Did Mrs. Broughton not tell yon that she had known her in former years?—Mrs. Broughton told me that she had been a servant with her, and that she owed her some money, and that she gave her a sovereign to get rid of some old debt.

You read, “At the beginning of Derby week an old hand in the work of procuration”. That could not make you think of Mrs. Jarrett—That could not make you think of her as an old hand in the work of procuration.   Tell us what made you think of that?— I cannot tell you what made me think so, but I did think so.

But had you suspicion of that on the 3rd of June?—No, I had not.

When did you begin to have a suspicion?—When I read the Gazette, I tell you. 

“An old hand at the work of procuration” (reading again)—She may have been for what I know; it seems very much like it.

Mr. Poland asked Mr. Russell to read the entire article at once. 

Mr. Russell said he would take his own course.

Mr., Poland asked whether this kind of cross-examination was to go on.

Mr. Russell: I have a perfect right to take this step by step and ask her why she thought it referred to her child. This is an important point. She says when she read the Gazette she formed the opinion that the person there described as “an old hand at the work of procuration” was Mrs. Jarrett, and I am entitled to press her to state the grounds on which she formed her opinion.

Mr. Vaughan: She came to a certain conclusion on reading the article. Perhaps the whole article should first be read.

Mr. Russell: Well, let it be read.

The clerk then read the article, “How n Child was Bought for £5,” published in “The Maiden Tribute.”


Mr. Russell then asked the witness:—Will you tell me in your own judgment, what part of that refers to your child? On the 6th of July you read the Gazette, and accept that the Derby day is mentioned as being fixed for the delivery of the child, is there anything else that makes you think it refers to your daughter?—There are two or three things that make me think that it was my child.

Well, what are they?—One is that she went away on that day with the intention of going into service.

What next?—That the child is thirteen and called Lily.

But your child is not called Lily?—I thought perhaps they gave her the name of Lily instead of Eliza. (Laughter.)

Anything else?—Yes, the reference to the sovereign, because Mrs. Broughton had a sovereign that day.

Anything else?—Nothing else.

Just the mention of Derby day, the mention of the age thirteen, the mention of the sovereign, and of Lily, which might have been Eliza? You have one daughter called Elizabeth and another called Eliza?—Yes.

You saw Mrs. Broughton with sovereign on the same day as the girl went away on the Wednesday?—Yes.

When did she first tell you that?—On the Wednesday.

You notice that the pound referred to here is a pound said to have been given to the girl’s mother?—I never received none, I tell you.

The statement here is “Then came the chance of Lily’s mother.” You were fancying yourself as Lily’s mother. “The brother keeper sent for her and offered here a sovereign for her daughter. You had not been offered a sovereign for your daughter?—No; I had not. But there something as made me think that was my child; that’s all.

I want to see where it was so much like it. “At the beginning of Derby week a woman, an old hand in the work of procuration, entered a brothel in ——— street, M———, kept by an old acquaintance, and open negotiations for the purchase of a maid”. Now you say that Mrs. Jarrett, you thought, was the person there referred to, and that you thought she was an old procuress?—I did. I knew what she was.

What ground had you for believing her to be the person referred to?

Mr. Vaughan: Do you know what a procuress is?—No, I do not.

Mr. Russell: Then how did you come to think that the statement applies to you? 

Witness: You see the verses—well, you see the same verses is in my child’s letter.(Cheers from the back of the court.) That was not the first letter my child sent me.

Mr. Russell: Do you suggest that you received a letter before the 6th of July with any such verses in it?

Witness: Well, I have told you—I am trying—Oh, you beauty! (here the witness turned towards the dock and shook her fist savagely at Mrs. Jarrett)—I should like to get hold of you. You would want to join the Salvation Army if I got hold of you for a few minutes. (Laughter.)


Mr. Russell: Do you suggest that Mrs. Broughton’s is a brothel?—No.

Mr. Russell (reading): “One of the women who lodged in the house had a sister who was living in the house, and in all probability would be seduced and follow the profession of her elder sister,” Do you know any such persons as those referred to?—Mrs. Broughton has a sister, and the sister has a daughter.

Does she visit Mrs. Broughton’s?—The girl goes there, but I believe she was too old.

What was the name of Mrs. Broughton’s niece? — H’m; stop a minute, the girl is here, she will tell you her name. (Laughter.)

Will you kindly tell me? What age is she?—I should think about fifteen. She was too old.

Who told you that?—She did herself.

Who?—The girl.

Was the name Jane Farrer?—No, that is another girl.

Where did Jane Farrer live?—She is at Mrs. Broughton’s house every day. She was there the day this pretty beauty came. (Laughter.)

What does she do there?—I don’t know, I’m sure.

The other young woman is Mrs. Broughton’s sister?—Her daughter.

Jane Farrer is not any relation?—No.

And what brings her there?—I don’t know.

Was Eliza Stevens the name of the girl you are thinking of, do you think?—No; that was another girl who was too old to go.

Where was she seen?—In the street. 

Where did she live?—At No. 11.

And whom did she live with?—With her sister. 

And were all these talked of in reference to Mrs. Jarrett?—Farrer, Stevens, Woodward, these were all girls who were top old? — Yes , and there was another girl named Margaret Fann.

What was Stevens’s address?—11, Charles-street

And Fann’s?—29, Charles-street.

That would be opposite your house. Did Woodward live in your house?—Yes, her name is West.

Where does Fann live?—In Harrow-street.

What number?—I do not know.

Had all these been noticed by Mrs. Jarrett at Broughton’s?—She had been asking them if they wanted the situation, but they were too old; what was wanted was a girl between thirteen and fourteen.

Did Mrs. Broughton tell you that on the Tuesday or the Wednesday?—The children told me themselves; these young girls. They came and told me “I was asked to go, but we was too old.”

Can you explain this? Your daughter has sworn this morning that she was told by you that you had been at Mrs. Broughton’s, and that Alice West was too old, and that what was wanted was a girl just over thirteen?—Well, if she did I didn’t hear it. 

You did not tell your daughter so?—No, never.

She could not have invented it?—I don’t know, I’m sure. I didn’t tell her. Alice told my daughter herself.

She swears that you told her?—No; I did not tell her.


You have been in trouble once or twice, have you not?—In trouble for what?

Well, you know what I mean.—I have never been a prostitute and never a thief. As for anything else, I can stand to it, and you can ask me.

Well, I want you to tell me.— Well, what do you want? I’ll tell you. (Laughter.)

Have you been charged with an assault?—Yes; a good many years ago upon my sister-in-law, and I would do it again if she pulled my hair.

Have you been charged with drunkenness?—Very likely I have; but I have never been in prison.

Have you been fined?—I have, and paid it. (Laughter.)

Your husband has paid it?—He might have done; it was very kind of him if he did. It has nothing to do with this case what I have done (vehemently), and I’m going to answer any further questions, and there you are. (Cheers from the back of the court.) 

Mr. Vaughan: I cannot allow this.

Mr. Russell: It is very nearly time, your worship. It is to be hoped that the crowd at the back are not to be the judges in this matter. (To witness): Have you been charged and fined for using obscene language in the streets?—Oh, I often swear. (Laughter.)

On the day your child left her home on the 3rd of June were you taken up drunk in the streets with your baby in your arms?—No; I were not.

Were you fined the next day?—Yes; all through my husband abusing me. It was all through this case, for letting the child go. That has nothing to do with this case. (To Mr. Vaughan): Am I bound to answer these questions?

Mr. Vaughan: Just preserve your temper and answer the questions quietly.

Mr. Russell: Were you drunk on the 3rd of June?—I might have been. They said I was.

Who was the magistrate?—Mr. Cooke. 

Who was the constable?—I don’t know.

Had you your infant in your arms?—Well, if I was so drunk of course I couldn’t recollect.

Do you say you were so drunk?—No, I don’t. I was not. 

Now, you have introduced your husband’s name in this matter?—Yes; he came home and abused me for letting the child go.

What time did he come home?—Well, it was dark.

What time?—I don’t know.

How did he ill-use you?—By knocking me about.

Did you bring any charge against him?—No.

Were you summoned for being drunk, or were you taken into custody?—No; I was took.

What time were you took?—I don’t know, I’m sure.

About what time?—At night. 

What time at night? Were you kept in custody all night?—No ; I was bailed out.

Were you bailed out by your husband?—No, another man.

By whom?—A man who kept a public-house.

The Black Man ?—Yes.

And then you were fined next morning 5s. or forty-eight hours?—Yes; I don’t know about the hours.

How often altogether have you been fined —Three times, I think.

Do you swear to three times?—That is all. 

For drunkenness?—Yes.

How often for assaults?—Once; a good many years ago.

How often for being disorderly and using obscene language in the streets?—Once.

Mr. Vaughan was understood to suggest that learned counsel might pursue his cross-examination further.

On Mr. Russell explaining that he could not remain longer, the court adjourned until Saturday.

Mr. Overend explained that the gentleman who had been bail for Mdme. Mourez was a stranger to her, had only offered the bail in consequence of the absence of the friend of hers who was now in court and willing to take up the bail. The court would no doubt agree to the change.

The learned magistrate assented, and the court then adjourned.