QUEER STORIES OF REAL LIFE.

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 226, 24 September 1927, Page 23

QUEER STORIES OF REAL LIFE.

(By J. W. POYNTER.)

"I know all about that murder at the Bradley arm!" The speaker was a labouring man. The time wna one afternoon in the middle of jfay, 1857, and tine scene a small house in a humble street in Bilston New Tov/n, Staffordshire. The person addressed was the landlady of the house, the labourer being one of her lodger". H*v spoke in a hourso, excited voice, and t'»e woman backed away from' him in distfiayed astonishment. "Murder* What murder?" she exclaimed. "Why. Lizzy Hopley'e," replied the man, jn a eulkn tone. "She wnsn't murdered," aimwered the Undlfvjy. "It waß an accident" "X"sL it wasn't." went on the labourer. "It -was a murder. I saw it done. I know wlm did it!" then?'' was the woman's natural inquiry. "Why, Philip Clare," said the man. He refused to suy more than that, and ■went out of the house. The name of the labourer who had made thif extraordinary assertion was* Samuel Wall. He hed lodged at the Bilston hotwe only a short while, and was by no mean* of a character to excite favour. Sullen in temper, he wus also somewhat Bjyitcrious us to his past history. The landlady naturally went to the police and told them "h.it had been said. The rceult wuh tiint Naaiucl Wall found binuelt euiunioneil before the magistrate* to gi»'e I*" account of the matter, which led to the arrest of Philip Clare, a miner, on a charge of murdering Elizabeth Hopley, a young woinnn of eighteen years of Kge, on April 30. 1557. A few preliminary words are necessary at to event* which had happened before gainuel Wall made hie strange remarks to hie landlady. On the 30th of April, a labourer named George "Buclctey had been going to his work early in the morning, when he came to -what was known as the "Bradley arm." That "arm ,, was an intersection in the Birmingham canal, the two parts joining so •• to form a kind of fork. Buckley's attention was attracted by a body floating in the water below. Calling hell* Buckley, with the aid of men who had responded, hauled the body out: it «U at once recognised as that of Elizabeth Hoeley, nil attractive and good-natured worker iu the neighbourhood. At the inquest, the medical evidence •was that the young woman had died of drowning. The body showed no signs of violence. The girl hod last been seen alive at about ten o'clock on the evening befort. She had gone out of the house of her aunt (with whom she lived), without bonnet or shawl. Elizabeth—whose character was excellent and who was well liked by everyone who knew her—had worked for Philip Clare for a time, but had left hie service "Ihortljr before the tragedy, and had gone into the employment of a Mr. Moon The place where the corpae was found wm about halfway between Elizabeth s aunt's house and that of Mr. Moon, and waa therefore in the girl's natural route to the place, of her work. Nearby, was a "coke-hearth" in full wdVk, which gave a flickering and danling light. la Amaiint T*lt. la view of the evidence, the coroner's Jury came to the conclusion that the poor gh-f bad been on her way to her employer a when, daxxled by the coke fire on » dark night, the had slipped in the fork of the canal and,had fallen forward into the water. The canal wall waa two feet high at thlβ spot. 8o clear seemed the caae that an immediate verdice of "accident' was returned, and the case would have Veen acceped aa a pure mishap had not Samuel Wall, with his voluntary stateeents, produced a criminal trial. This was the amazing tale which Wall told in the witneaa-boz at the Stafford ■arises on December 14:— He knew Philip Clare. On the 29th of April he (Wall) waa near a railway bridge which led over to the Bradley arm, in the discharge of his duty aa a watchman. "All of a sudden," said Wall, "when I was about a hundred or two hundred yards from the railway bridge, 1 taw two shadows on the bridge. I crept gradually up until 1 was only fifteen or sisteen yards away. I then heard a woman's voice say, "Ob, Philip, don't kill me. Yon said you would kill me before." I then saw a man strike a woman so violently ss to knock her down. "I Went up to them and saw that the man waj Philip Clare. He waa putting the woman en hie shoulder. 'Philip/ I cried, 'you'll suffer for this.' "Up till now Clare had not noticed me, but he now turned and said: 'If you speak 111 serve you the same. . Frightened, I let him go on, but I followed. Clare car'leu the young woman over the bridge to the Bradley arm. He then turned down * c ¥\. r S ed between some cottage* and «Ml buildings. I waa following doee Behind. "Clare then ■tofffjd and turned to me m a threatening way and said: 'No then, ftJ 0,, tell anyone a word about thia affair ill murder j-ou. I will serve you the same *»r as I served her.' He then turned S- /i-u om me ' and « with me looking on, "« deliberately put the girl into the water •t. the fork. This was about twenty ■unutes after midnight." JESS*** coun,M!, what he then did - th » extraordinary witness replied: H«..T!T ? n w . Hh "y watthman'a work. eS^S , '* 1 " ebout five minuten Clare T e °f a L in - He bu " ied »• «» Ifeb* ! U V d he would at<ack me ' so intHdawn* , ' up in an engine houae aoSoM""?!* 1 thlt he had made «"> SGrSfswH* V*£" on the raattCT and came from Samuel Hawes. a railway watchbrfore ■• ■*"» that, at about an hour BrTSd wS 1 of - the night in « ueetion direction «f 7i Vo, ?, eg co ">«ng from the Wall l2i l/ he _ J rail , way bndee to which to&KsiSrt- * had seemed to him relliHg. ° d Of * man and woman auartsSteSSL!l" ttom hel Wall's case, *>»+£'£&££ ca,e . had been disposed 5* and no ■"■Picion atBWevCT £L° r *° W> nt - Clare and he « nem, «: «> the motive of •faV in .w5 WM ab * n t- The whole ahmi ' wmauia a psychological A Grim Remit. thitwteh'T ?L!&£ wcuaation waa "the 18 **-}?* : we* known aa the riS?^ th I"*' Ib thi "' however, wno Accused his fellow. man. •t ■^ r 2 r Pj \tsood-nted. houae " penunous habit* ud ww generally

CASES OF FALSE ACCUSATION

believed to have a store of money hidden away. She kept a little ehop, for the sale of groceries and tobacco, in her part of the house. Behind the shop she had a parlour; behind that a bedroom, and at the back of the building was a yard. The rest of the house was occupied by a lawyer named Catchpool, and by a shoemaker named Samuel Yarham, a young man of twenty-seven, whose wife also acted as servant to the attorney, Mr. Catchpool. The yard at the back of the house was divided into two by a wall, bo that half belonged to Mrs. Candler and the rest to Mr. Catchpool. The end wall of the yard backed on to a street. About the beginning of November, 1844, Mrs. Candler received from Norwich, a parcel containing a large sum of money. She made no secret of that fact: indeed, she even told various people how ehe would spend the money. At two o'clock of the morning of November 18, however, two policemen on the beat noticed that the door of Mrs. Candler's shop was open. Entering, the men found behind the counter the dead body of the widow. It was near where the shop till should have been, but the latter was gone. The hand of the poor woman had been terribly battered, as though by a hammer, and, to crown all, her throat had been cut in a manner severe enough itself to have caused her death. Under her body was found a half-ounce paper of tobacco, so the theory was held that the murderer had hit her suddenly after first having distracted her attention by asking for a email purchase. She had evidently gone into her ehop from her eupper, which wee found half-finished. The missing till was found near a chest of drawers in her bedroom.

The police at once roused the house. Samuel Yarham. the shoemaker, put his head out of hie bedroom window and, addressing one of the policemen who had gone out into the street below, asked what was the matter. "Murder is the matter," said the officer. Come down here." Yarham called Mr. Catchpool, and the police soon put the two in possession of all the facts. Yarham said he himself bad heard no noise, though lie had sat up till one o'clock. The case was clearly one of murder with the motive of robbery, but there seemed no clue to the identity of the criminals. The "Danes" was a large sandy tract of ground stretching from the town to the sea and the mouth of the rjver Yare. At one of the gun-batteries thereon was stationed an old artilleryman named Dick. It was well known that thieves were in the habit of concealing stolen property in the Danes, of which the sandhills formed convenient "caches." That being so, the Dicks (Mrs. Dick and her daughter also lived at.the battery station) kept a sharp eye open after the news of the murder was known. A Slender Clue. These two women were making their way homewards on the day after the crime, when they noticed new footprints near one of the sandhills. Looking further, they saw a piece of string sticking up from the sand. They pulled it; and up came three bags which, on being opened, were found to contain gold, silver and copper coins. One of the bags had on it the name of Mrs. Candler. Just then, as the two women were in the midst of their discovery, three men came up. They were Dick the artilleryman, a miller named Tolley, and a man named ? A L * enera ' conversation ensued, and all the five people went away together. The bag* were given to the police. In due course the latter arrested the man Koyle, the shoemaker Yarham, and two other men named Hall and Hapes. Eventually all four were committed for trial at the Norwich spring assizes, 1845. Just before the time for the hearing, however. Yarham made a voluntary statement. That statement implicated the other three prisoners, and Yarham appeared aa a witness against them at the trial. He denied that he had had any share in u- u^s , v? "f" , that » on the ni & ht <> n which it had been committed, he had looked out of his bedroom window by chance and had seen Royle, Hall, and Mapea come out of Mrs. Chandler's shop. He had noticed the strangeness of their appearance, and* listening he heard Royle aay he had killed the old woman. Astounded (said Yarham) he had gone to the shop, had seen the body, and then had returned to his own room. Three months after, Captain Love, superintendent of the Yarmouth police, received from Mrs. Dick a statement that she had a full confession of the crime, Yarham being the culprit. The police made inquiries; the shoemaker waa arrested; and hia trial took place at the Norwich aueizes on March 27, 1846. He pleaded "not guilty." From the evidence of Mrs. Dick, it would seem, that Yarham'a previous discharge had lulled him into a false sense of security. He had overlooked the fact that he had not' been finally and positively declared not guilty of the crime, for he bad appeared as "Queen's evidence." He was, therefore, by no means free from liability to further proceedings. Apparently unaware of that fact—or perhaps, unable to control his, tongue because of the burden of his conscience—he had said to Mrs. Dick (if, indeed, her evidence waa truej these things which she communicated to the police. Mrs. Dick'e Strange Story. Thia was Mrs. Dick's strange evidence: "I waa," went on Mrs. Dick, "at the battery in the afternoon after the inquest. A man came up to me where I had found the money. He said: "All they have to do is to find.the murderer/ I answered: 'I wish I could! I would walk twenty miles to find it out, even if I was lame.' He said: 'I am the murderer.' I said: "What is your name?' His coat collar was buttoned up high. He said: *You know me.' I said: 'I do not.' He said: 'Yes, you do,' and went away toward the town. I told the Mayor about it. and he said it was only some person tampering with justice. At the trial in 1845. I did not recognise the man in Court. After the trial, however, I went home with my husband, and we seen Yarham and hi* wife. I said: 'Good God! If that be Yarham, that is the main who spoke to me!' 'About three weeks later, Yarham came to me. saying he had had to get money from the workhouse to go out of Yarmouth. I said: 'You are either the murderer or you know who did it.' He then said: 'I will tell you all about it.'". Mrs. Dick then related how Yarham had told her that Koyle. Hall, and Mapes had plagued him to get Mrs. Chandler's money; how, after making them promise not to hurt her, he had let them in by a. back door to get the booty while the widow was out; how she, returning unexpectedly, had caught them, and Boyle and Hall had feeled her. Yarham himself, then, had cut her-throat; but (he said), "should not not live, she had been beaten so much by Royle and Hall." , The judge (Mr. Justice Mauls), in his summing up, made this remark: "If Mrs. Dick is to be believed, the case is proved. It is for "the jury to decide whether she could .have come into Court, with a deliberate design of. swearing away the life of Yarham. who bad certainly done hei* no : injury." The jury, however, found Yarham "guilty/ He persisted, nevertheless, to assert his innocence; lie did so right up t to the end. He'was executed in front, of Norwich Castle on , April 4, in the presence of a huge crowd; for public executions were not abolished until 1808. .«•'■•' Public opinion, at the period, held that the conviction of Yarham was. just. From my point of view, the whole story is sordid snd pitifully mean aa well as brutal.