GETTING THEIR PRINTS.

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXI, Issue 3161, 4 May 1931, Page 7

GETTING THEIR PRINTS.

A Matter in whioh Subtlety and Guile Play a Part. In certain cases, the police have the right to arrest on suspicion. There's a big gap, however, between suspecting a man of having committed a crime and proving he was the author. Frequently the gap could be filled by taking finger-prints of the detained person. But that cannot be done compulse ily~—the person has the right to refuse. Frequently, if inquiries fail to produce evidence, and the man or woman declines to surrender their fingers, then they go free, although the police may be morally certain of their guilt.

When that happens, It's up to those who have been investigating a case to get, somehow or other, the all-impor-tant prints. Should they correspond with any at the Yard then the identity and record of the person would be revealed. That might be useful. And, of course, if they were the same as those left on a weapon in a case of murder, or on articles handled during a burglary,* then the wheels of Justice would quickly move.

After two remands the magistrates discharged a certain man. The police had failed to get any evidence against him, and with a sardonic grin he left the dock. He had refused to allow his finger-prints to be taken. Careful trailing revealed that he patronised a quiet public-house. His beverage was a glass of bitter. He had five days of freedom, and was then arrested again. He bluffed a bit at first and then admitted he was the man who had burgled a house and savagely assaulted a servant. His finger-prints were the same as those he bad left in the house. A barmaid had been bribed at the public-house to serve his drink in a glass which 1 had been treated with a special and Invisible coating, and to keep the glass. He left some excellent "prints"! Two police officers —disguised as tram-conductors —went into another public-house, and after a while started up an argument. One asserted that a cigarette case he had was silver; the other sneered and said it wasn't As arranged, the first one ultimately turned to a man, whose finger-prints were wanted and said: "'Excuse me, sir, but my mate here says this case isn't silver. I say it is. If you're a , judge, sir, I'd like your opinion. He I took the case—which had been prepared in the same way as the glass—handled it, and said it was silver. There was more in the "Much obliged" than he realised! We had his prints, and he was arrested the next day. His language was not polite when he learned how he had been trapped. Prints of another man were got by » arranging to have the garden gate of a house varnished. The man lived in the road and when he passed he was asked by a police officer wearing blue spectacle and an eye-shade, who explained that he couldn't see, if he would mind opening the gate. He did, and the next second they were fighting. He had felt the stickiness. ... He was no match for the policeman, however. The prints on the gate were photographed, and they told all that was wanted. For him, they meant seven years' penal servitude. The credit for the following "print" belongs to a young colleague of the writer. He noticed that a man brought to the station was holding a pipe with a big bowl. Presuming that fingerprints might be refused, he annexed the man's pipe. When dusted and photographed, an excellent print was obtained. It connected the man with a crime which he admitted, and for which he got three years.