THEY ALMOST ESCAPED

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 24, 29 January 1938, Page 8 (Supplement)

THEY ALMOST ESCAPED

8y.,. Percy Hoskins

GUN-CARRYING has never become widespread among the professional criminals of England. There was a period, a few years back, when there was a tendency for the habit to spread, but stern judges served out a few sentences of the "cat" and the practice was reduced. It was on a February afternoon in 1028, just before this period of discouragement, that Frederick Stewart, a 28-year-old bookmaker's clerk, strolled casually pa«t some houses in Pembridge Square, Bayswater. His pockets contained no money. The calling of bookmaker's clerk brought him no wages during the weeks between November and March, and he had to live somehow. So now and then during this bleak period he reverted to his former habit of making his war into other people's houses and helping himself to some of their property. On this day Stewart was toying with something in his right-hand pocket m he gazed round in search of a temporarily unoccupied house into which he could wander. lie was only a small man—just three-quarters of an inch over sft—and his lack of fttature had given him an inferiority complex. He wae bad y handicapped for any sort of struggle—a risk to which he was frequently subjected in this present calling—so he had acquired something for his protection. It was remarkable how cheaply one could pick up these foreign automatic pistols. He hoped the necessity to tiee it would never arise, but he thought it might bluff hie captor into letting him go if he wore taken unawares on any of his .excursion*. On this day Ste/wart had not been fortunate in hie selection of the houeee. At one apparently unoccupied house he had rung the bell as tuual and then from some basement room a servant girl had told him that no Mr. Smith lived there. An Old Lady's Inqmsitiveness H« had walked round a eeraer and his ever had rested on a more likely "crfb. , Dufik wai falling and there was not a light to be seen in the place. He had rung the bell twice and so far there had not been & sound. One mere for luck—he gave & third and, »« he hoped, a final ring. No. His lurk wae oat. Footsteps coming along the passage. The door opened and an elderly woman looked out. "Is the chauffeur abontf" inquired Stewart smoothly. "We have no chauffeur here," replied t*» old lady. "I am sorry, but I must have got the wrong address," eaid Stewart. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred that was Stewart's cue to depart. This mention of a mistaken address usually I ended the conversation but this old lady was more inquisitive than most. "Where do you com* fronsT" ahe asked. There wae no hesitation. "The Warwick Garage," Stewart told ber as he turned to go. The door dosed and Stewart resumed hie aurvey of Pembridge Square. At 5.30 on that February afternoon Mr. Bertram Webb, who owned a Bayswater hotel, was driving his 18-year-old son, Clifford, and his friend, Mr. Frank Sweeney, to hia flat in Pembridge Square. Taking some parcel* from the car, the men began walking up a few stairs leading to the flat. As they reached the landing Mr. Sweeney noticed broken glass on the carpet. A glass panel above the lock had been broken. Finding that the door opened only a few inches on the chain, Mr. Webb called out. "Is that you, Kitty?" sup-i posing that his wife was inside! It wae then that the three men saw a bowler hat. It could he ncen above opaque glass panels, and it was on the; head of someone who was moving towards the door. ° "Kun, Cliff, run for the police," shouted Mr. Webb. Both the bov and Mr. Sweeney turned swiftly to "obey. As they leapt down the stair* the'y heard someone say, "Put them up." '

This wae repeated, but the boy and ] his companion did not stop. They had < not gone more than 15 yards along the street before the sound of a shot i reached their ears. 1 Clifford turned back. As he did so ' he saw a man run down the eteps and disappear in the opposite direction—just • a vague shape vanishing in the < darkness. i Clifford shouted for help. Mr. Sweeney, ' who had been unable to find a police- 1 man, came, running back. Together they ' raced back to the house. Mr. Webb was lying on the stairs, his ; head towards the street door. He had i been shot through the left eyebrow, ■ and was unconscious. When help came ! j he was rushed to St. Mary's Hospital, h but died the next morning without uttering another word. j

No. XIV.

Chief Inspector Horwell soon found traces indicating the presence of the professional housebreaker. A gold bracelet <set with diamonds was missing. In the hall was an attache ea>e parked ready for removal with valuables taken from the rifled roome. A pedestrian with whom the vanishing housebreaker had almost collided in his haste to get away told the detecti%es that the fugitive had thrown something into the garden of No. 21, Pembridge Square. Detective Digby was sent to make a starch, end it* was not long before he wae back, carrying—carefully to avoid destroying fingerprints—a .32 automatic pistol of Belgian manufacture. Unfortunately for Defective Dijrbv'e precautions the assaatamt had obviously worn gloves. One cartridge had been fired; another had jammed in the mechanism, and the pistol held feur more. The famona nodn operand! tystem of Scotland Yard can usually identify individual housebreakers by characteristics of their work, such * a* the way they handle a jemmy or the method used in picking a lock. The system was of little use in this investigation. Xothing could be found in the rifled flat which could be checked by records. It was then that the Yard bronght the next etage of its crime-fight in- system into action. Detectives were eent out to ascertain whether on this day atir man had been "sounding the drums."' " The officers soon found the old ladv and heard her version of the conversation with the man from the "Warwick Garage." Where was the Warwick Garage? The officers could find no one who knew They searched, but eventually had to report that there wa* no such business in the locality. Another dead end? j Chief Inspector Horwell did not think so. Why, he asked himself, when a man ie suddenly put to it to invent an excuse should he automatically think of a garage that does not exist ? Why should the name Warwick leap into his mind? The whole murder equad wa* summoned to the chief's room. They wero told of the eijmificance of the word Warwick. Did any of them know a housebreaker who had any connection with the word Warwick? "I know of one," broke in a veteran ! detective-sergeant whose service had ! taught him all the hijrhwaye and bv- i ways of Xotting Hill. "Frederick Robin- I son, or Stewart, I believe is his real \ name. He doesn't live there himself, but I he has relatives in Warwick Road." I Out from the criminal record office I came the doeeier of Frederick Stewart. I or Robinson. j "Certainly on the email size for a I murderer/ , was the comment of one detective as he read Stewart's height j oft Jin. Xolw which had been written on the! dossier said that he was "„ harmless I commonplace housebreaker." The papers! showed that he had been in the hand* I of the police only the previous year He ! had taken part in a hurglarv at the ! County Hall, Westminster Bridge. He had. unfortunately for him chosen, with a companion." to force way into th» building on a night when

Detective-Inspector Wood and another officer had been secreted on the promise*. The two officers had been sitting in * room shortly after midnight when % flashlight from a window shot a beam through the darkness. "It's all right," came a low voice tl* window was forced, and the men 'had crawled into the room. The detectives rose arid one <rrabb.'d what lie believed were the Iwo men, but in the darkness he was unaware that he wa; hoidinocolleague and one of the intruders. 0 The second detective w« -ropincr f or an eW-tric swiuh and a* he passed thrm.jrh the door to the corridor watchmen came rushincr up. One, think- • in? a burglar wn = cnrainj out, struck at the detective with his baton. When the lishts were turned on ft was found that only om> burglar had been caught. The other (Stewart) had vanished in the darkness. There are four miles and a ha lf of corridors in the buildin?. and the search lasted more than two hours. Eventually Stewart -was found m the basement. He had crawled under the boilers, but bis hiding-place became so hot that he crawled out ajrain just as the detectives came into the room. For that exploit he had received twelve months. The important question now was: I Where was Ste.vart? The dossier added that he was continually at ?veyhound tracks, and from friends the detectives discovered that his favourite track was Southern!. j Detoetive-Senreantu MeTassart and I Welsby were dispatched to make a thorI ou?h comb-out of the town. For davi j they searched without finding the slight. ' est trace <.f Stewart. " ° j On the day that they had decided t» .abandon the sparch and return to Lon--1 don. Detect ive-Serfreant Welsby decided to have a final look into one of the bi<» public houses on the promenade. As h« ! pushed open the door it struck a email wian who had hi» back to the detective and caused him to spill his drink.

Surprise For A Detective The man turned rmind, exclaiming: "My fault, old man. I was in the way." The detective wu too astonished to reply. He was face to face with Stewart. Without telling him why be wu wanted, the detective took Stewart back . I to London. Ry the time the police car I reached I'addinjrton (Ireeji police etajtion, Stewart wanted to talk. Hβ I admitted to Chief Inspector Horwell that Jhe had been in the flat at Pembridge j Square and then gave this Terßion of what he called the "accident": "I unchained the door, but before doing so I said. 'Hands up:' at the same time I taking from my liip pocket a email ; pistol. j "I made a dash out. I didn't eee anyone then, but as I reached the top of > the stairs I received a blow on the face. ! I fell with my head on the banister, and j as I fell I heard a bam. I was holding the pistol in my right ~hand. I did not see anyone, hut I heard a gasp. "I was flabbergasted because I thought everybody had gone downstairs. I - thought I had frightened them all. I did [not see anyone fall. I scrambled np and | ran downstairs out of the house," [ After hearing the medical evidence, the jury decided that Stewart's version did not tally with the facts, and he was hanced. I He might have escaped if be had not j troubled to satisfy an old lady's [curiosity. j Stewart's career as a bookmaker's , clerk was responsible for introducing j into a condemned cell the excitement of I an approaching Derby. His first request to his gaolers was for j a copy of "Paiff's Guide to the Turf" and ; a number of sporting papers. J Derby Day was only three weeks off : and he wanted to study form. A few j days later he wa<= informed that the authorities had fixed June 6. the day of ■ the Derby, as the date of his execution. J "Cant they give me r>ne mr>re day?" , j he pleaded with the prison governor. i J lie day nnd the moment arrived, and as the wanler-s were hustling him aloni j tlie passage to the shed Stewart sa : d: • -'Good-hyp, boys. Have a few shillings on Felstead to-day." . Many hour? later, when his body was being prepared for burial within the prison walls, the result of the Derby reached the warders. Felstead had won at 33 to 1.