Offence: Theft > burglary
Verdict: Guilty > no_subcategory
Punishment: Death > no_subcategory
340. JOHN ALBERSON, alias Green , was indicted for burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Dark Pimm, on the 27th of December, about ten o'clock ia the night, at St. Mary, Lambeth, with intent to steal, and stealing therein 2 coats, value 30s.; 2 pairs of trowsers, value 1l.; 2 waistcoats, value 7s.; 1 handkerchief, value 2s.; 1 pair of gloves, value 1s.; and 1 memorandum book, value 1s.; the goods of the said Henry Dark Pimm.
EMMA PIMM . I live with my brother at No. 2, Hooper-street, Westminster-road, in the parish of St. Mary, Lambeth. I went out about half-past nine o'clock in the evening of last Saturday week, the 27th of December—I came home about ten o'clock, and found the stable window broken open—it joins the house—it is a spare room which we make a stable of—the hinge was broken off, and half the window ledge taken out—I found the street door open which leads to the stable—I found it open when I came to it to go in—the street door was shut at half-past nine o'clock when I left home, and the stable quite secure—I had seen the window of the stable about half an hour before I left, and I passed it as I went out—I had fastened it before I went out—I returned about ten o'clock, and found the street door open—I went in, and found the clothes taken from the bureau—I missed two coats, two pairs of trowsers, 2 waistcoats, a silk handkerchief, a memorandum book, and a pair of glaves—the bureau was in the parlour—the drawers of it were shut when I went out, but not locked—I had seen the things safe
ten minutes before I went out—I went to the door and gave an alarm—a policeman came, and I gave a description of a person whom I suspected—the prisoner was employed by my brother, who keeps a coal shed—it is my brother's house—his name is Henry Dark Pimm—the prisoner had been in his employ three or four years, on and off, I believe, to carry out coals—he did not sleep at the house, but lodged in the same street as the coal shed is in—I had left nobody in the house when I went out—my brother was out—I live with my brother—his shop is in the same street as the prisoner resides, but we live in the next street to that.
Prisoner. The stable window was not shut at all. Witness. It was.
ELIZA PIMM . I am the sister of Emma Pimm, and live with my brother in Hooper-street. The prisoner left the shop about nine or a quarter after nine o'clock—I was in my brother's shop at the time—he was going home to his tea—he had just come back from taking some coals out—I called him back from his tea afterwards to take out some coals, and by the time he had weighed the coals my two sisters came by—it was then about half-past nine o'clock—they hallooed out to me, "Eliza, I shall not be long, I am going into the New Cut to get something for supper"—he asked me who that was—I said my two sisters, saying they should not be long, they were going to get something for supper, in the New Cut—he then said he would take the coals out—he took them, leaving me in the shop—as near as I can guess, he was gone about ten minutes, and when he came back he said he had not finished his tea, and would go home and finish it—that it was on the hob—he went home as I thought, and I never saw him from that time till the policeman took him—it would not take five minutes to walk from my brother's shop to the house.
WILLIAM DRIVER . I am a policeman. I received information from Emma Pimm, and went to the house hearing her give the alarm of robbery—I found the stable window, which is attached to the premises, had been broken open—I examined it—the lower part of the hinge was torn from the stone cill, and the stone cill was laying on the ground—the window is about three feet from the ground—the stone cill was torn out—that must have required some force—the front of the house is considerably dilapidated, and it would not require a great deal of force to get the cill out—I went into the parlour with the first witness, and she told me what she had lost—suspicion rested on their boy who carried out their coals—I went into Francis-street, which joins Hooper-street, and overtook the prisoner going home—I knew him—this was about a quarter or twenty minutes after ten o'clock—I said to him, "I have a charge of housebreaking against you"—he answered, "I do not know what you mean"—I told him his master's house had that night been entered, and he was the supposed youth—he said he had not been near the premises, for he had been on an errand for his mother—I took him into custody—he had none of the clothes about him which had been stolen—he unbuttoned his jacket, and said he had no clothes about him—I did not search him in the street—I had mentioned clothes to him—on our way to the station-house I was walking on his left side—I felt him tear something from his trowsers with his right hand, and he said to a boy who was walking on his right hand, "Here, Jem, take this, I will give it to you"—I immediately stopped him in the street, and his hand was between his thighs—I had hold of the other hand—I took from his thighs a watch fob—he had let go of it—when I took it from him, it was between his thighs—there was half-a-sovereign, three half-crowns, and two shillings in it, which I produce—I asked the boy what he had
handed to him—he said he did not know—the boy merely called out," Here, policeman, he has offered me something," and the prisoner took his hand from the boy, and put it between his thighs—this fob must have been what he offered him—at the station-house I asked him to account for the money—he said a Mrs. Perry, in Baker-street, had given the money to him to give to his mother, to take care of, for she did not wish her husband to know she had that quantity of money about her—after he was locked up, I went to Mrs. Perry's, in Baker-street—she is not here—I went to ten different pawnbrokers' shops that evening, and could find no property—on Monday morning, the 29th of December, the prosecutor and myself were in the yard at Queen-square office—at that time the prisoner was locked up at the office—he sent a messenger to his master that he wanted to speak to him—the prosecutor and I went to him, and all the prisoner said was, "Henry, I will tell you where the clothes are"—that was the first that passed—neither of us said a word to him before that, for we could not see him—he was in the cell—we did not say a word to him except giving him to understand Henry Pimm was at the door—he said, "They are at the nearest pawnbroker's shop, on the left hand side of the Surrey theatre, in Blackfriars-road"—I went to that pawnbroker's shop, and found all the property except two waistcoats.
Prisoner. Q. Did not the prosecutor say he would not hurt me, if I said where the clothes were? A. He did not—I am positive he never said any such thing.
Prisoner. My mother was there at the time. Witness. His mother was not there.
HENRY WILLIAM RUSSELL . I am a pawnbroker. I took these coats in pawn from the prisoner between nine and ten o'clock on Saturday night, the 27th of December—he pawned them for 1l.—I gave him a duplicate—I gave him 19s. 10d., charging 2d. for the ticket—my shop is about a quarter of an hour or ten minutes' walk from Hooper-street; but I do not exactly know where it is—I questioned him very closely about the clothes, as they were of different sizes—he said one coat belonged to his father, and the other to his brother—he came into the boxes, to that I could not see his dress very well.
EMMA PIMM re-examined. These are my brother's clothes, and all that I missed except the waistcoats, which are not here—I had seen them that same evening, about ten minutes before I went out, when I went to the bureau to take a cap out—I did not examine each article, but they were all packed in very tight—I had put them away there myself the same day—this fob does not belong to the clothes.
ELIZA WARMAN . I live at No. 33, Francis-street, opposite the prisoner's house. I had occasion to go into my back apartment, which looks over to Mr. Pimm's dwelling-house, in Hooper-street, and saw the prisoner standing at the door of the dwelling-house, or the stable—I am not sure which it was—he stood with his hands in his pockets—it was last Saturday week, between niue and ten o'clock—I could. not see whether the door was open—the stable window looks into the same Street as the door.
GUILTY— DEATH . Aged 13.
Fourth Jury, before Mr. Justice Bosanquet.