DEFENCE OF TOWNSEND

Taranaki Daily News, 19 November 1930, Page 3

DEFENCE OF TOWNSEND

MURDER CHARGE TRIAL PROCEEDS CONCLUSION OF THE CROWN CASE WAS ACT THAT OF INSANE MAN? I * The case for the Crown having concluded, a defence of insanity was raised yesterday afternoon on behalf of Alexander (Townsend, who was standing his second day of trial on a charge of murdering his wife Cora Alice Townsend at Fitzroy early on the morning of September 16. It is anticipated the proceedings will be concluded to-day. Occurrences in the Sackville Street house on the morning of the tragedy, the. actions of Townsend at Waitara and Onaero the next day, and what he said after his arrest were recounted in evidence led by Mr. C. H. Reston. Then Mr. L. M. Moss outlined the testimony to be given by the man’s brothers and acquaitances and by medical men. He submitted that at the moment of the act Townsend was insane. Evidence for the defence was given by several witnesses, including a doctor who had interviewed Townsend in prison.

THE NIGHT AT MRS. VICKERS’

EVIDENCE OF WOMEN IN HOUSE.

O’DONNELL TELLS OF TAXI RIDE. '# . ' Elsie Murray Vickers, a daughter of Mrs. Vickers, aged 18, said that on September 15 she returned from night school about 9.30. About 10 p.m. her sister Eva returned, and shortly after-, wards witness answered’ a knock at the front door. Townsend was there and asked if that were Mrs. Vickers’ place. On being told'Mrs. Townsend -was there he said he would like to speak to her for a moment. Mrs. Townsend went to the door and spoke "to Townsend. Then she asked and was granted the use of the light in the sitting room. They shut the door and Miss Patche( and she heard voices. After a while’ .they began to talk more loudly and Miss Patchel thought she would go in and ask them to speak more quietly. She was away a few minutes and then returned to the kitchen. Soon afterwards Mrs. Townsend came out and said her husband was going. Looking out they saw the lights of a car move away. They then shut the door, put the light out and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later Townsend returned to the kitchen. . ■ ” Witness went to her room and just before 11 returned to the kitchen. Townsend had gone. She said she was going to bed and she returned to her room. She heard the clock strike 12. She heard voices faintly from\the kitchen. After being asleep some time she heard voices in the passage. Townsend was talking and her mother asked him not to make so much noise. The telephone bell rang and someone came up the passage. Her bedroom door was pushed, partly open and she heard Mrs. Townsend say “Don’t go in here.” Her bedroom was practically opposite the sitting room. Next she heard Mrs. . Townsend, say “Don’t break my arras” and “Not with a pocket knife!” The voices came from the hall. Later a light was flashed on her face as the door was opened and then closed. There was a scuffling noise, after which Mrs. Townsend called, “Bella! Bella! Bella!” • . • ' Townsend said “I am a dead man now!” and his wife replied, “No you’re not!” She thought Townsend was trying to get out of the front door, but he° went back after his wife spoke. The light was turned on. Everything was quiet after that and later her mother came to take witness down to her .room.

Mrs. Cherry Isabella Vickers said she had known Mrs. Townsend a long time. Jean had boarded with her. She went out on September 15 just before Mrs. Townsend arrived. She returned home between. 10.30 and 10.40 p.m. and went into the kitchen, .where she saw Mr. and Mrs. Townsend and her sister* Miss Patchel. HE WAS QUIET AND CIVIL. Townsend spoke to her. Mrs. Townsend was seated and he was standing, eihe could smell drink strongly,, but he was quiet and' civil. He discussed family matters, saying he would not pay any more money for Jean’s board. She should have a job. Mrs. Townsend tuiid she had tried unsuccessfully. He wanted Mrs. Townsend to go outside out she refused. She thought Townsend seemed more concerned about Jean’s board than about her future. The Lathams had ruined him, he said. Mrs. Townsend spoke only now and again, her husband doing most of the talking. Sometimes his wife would speak loudly. When he asked his wife to go with him for a settlement, witness suggested getting a taxi for both of them. Townsend was willing to do this, but Mrs. To'wnsend refused and said something in an undertone. He went , away after telling his wife to put her hat and coat on as he would wait for her at the gate. , It might have been a quarter of an hour later that he came back and stood at the door. He was given a cup of coffee. Once more he spoke of family troubles and asked his wife to go with him. Witness thought Townsend complained Jean was going out too much; His demeanour had not changed in any way. His wife looked tired and weary of it all and appeared to become impatient. She spoke more loudly, but was not provocative. He was speaking more loudly and looked pale. He and his wife went down the passage towards the sitting room. Witness then took Elsie Vickers into her own room. , Mrs. Townsend said she would meet him in the morning about 10 o’clock. Arrangements were made that Mrs. Townsend and Miss Patchel should sleep in the sitting room. Witness then went to bed in a room with her daughter Rewa.

She could not say what time it was that her sister came to awaken her. She came out into the passage where she saw the two Townsends and Miss. Patchel by the telephone. Townsend was speaking rather loudly. He asked where the telephone was. Witness showed him, whereupon he broke off the receiver. Husband and wife then went

towards the sitting-room. “Bella! Bella! Oh, Bella!” called Mrs. Townsend, later. “I’m a dead man now,” said Townsend.

“No, mot yet, Alex,” replied his wife. 1 Witness heard neither of them speak again. She heard no sounds of struggling or fighting in the sitting room. She went into another room with her girls; the four of them were in the one room. To Mr. Moss: She admitted that what Mrs. Townsend said was “No, you are not,” in reply to her husband’s remark that he was “a dead man new.” (

“RING, NOW RING,” SAID THE MAN.

Ruth Isabella Vickers, 17 years of age, a daughter of Mrs. Vickers, was called to say that while occupying the back bedroom in the house in Sackville Street she was awakened early in the morning of September. 16. It was 2.40 by her watch. There was a sound of voices by,the telephone. “Ring, now ring!” said a man. There was a scuffle of feet up the passage, and a woman spoke in a . moaning, piteous voice. Then, witness got out ot bed, turned on the light, and looked at her watch. ‘

Witness went to her mother’s room, where she was informed Townsend was in the house. 1 Returning to her own room, she listened through the partly opened door. A light shone from the sitting room into the kitchen. Then Mrs. Townsend put it out. She was sure> it was Mrs. Townsend she heard running towards the switch. A man’s voice was raised angrily. She heard voipes in the passage.

“Don’t kill me,” said Mrs. Townsend. “If yon must, shoot me, shoot me.” “Shoot you?” said the man. “What do I want' to shoot you for?” “I would rather go that way, please,” was the reply. There were sounds of bumping, following which Mrs. Townsend said: “Don’t fireak my arms.” Witness next heard the switch in the sitting room moved.. The‘light went out. Townsend was talking a lot, mostly abusing Mrs. Townsend. She could not hear what was said. Mrs. Townsend did not reply. Ths light went on again about five minutes later. There was a few seconds hesitation before'Townsend went to the front door and rattled the lock. “I am a dead man now,” he said. ' “No, you’re not, Alex,” called his wife from the sitting room. “I’ll fix you,” said Townsend. From the sounds he appeared to walk back to the sitting room. Quiet followed. The next she heard was Townsend again rattling the front door. Then the sound of liis steps indicated he had turned and was running down the passage and past her window. She heard nothing more. She looked at her watch. It was ten minutes to 3.

“Where you wearing your watch, Ruth?” asked Mr. Moss.

“No, it was beside my bed,” she said. “Was-the light on?” “I pulled it on.” “And you stood by the open door during this conversation?” ■ . “Yes.”

She considered her mother and the others should have-, heard Townsend say “Ring — now ring.’? “You. see, you’re the only one who tells us of that,” observed counsel. She admitted her mother’s room was closer to Townsend than was her own. “You’re not serious when you say you could tell who, turned, the light out?” said counsel. “Yes.” “Was there a. carpet, in the sittingroom?” .. • . “Yes.” “I put it to you you were guessing when you said it was Mrs. Townsend?” “More or less.” AT WAITARA NEXT MORNING. Townsend’s visit to Waitara on the morning of September 16 was the subject- of evidence by George James Walsh, porter at the Masonic Hotel. He said Townsend called at the hotel a few njinutes before 6 o’clock. Townsend asked him if there were any chance of a drink. Witness said no. \ ■ He had been out duck shooting, said Townsend, and had got wet. He again asked for a drink but was again refused. “What was he doing when he spoke to you ?” asked Mr, Weston. “He was filling his pipe.” “What was his condition?” “Like a man who had had a booze and wanted a booze. I would not say he was drunk or sober.” Thomas Gardner Mallett, pensioner, living at the Bridge Hotel. Waitara, said he did odd- work about the bar. Townsend had stayed at the hotel at the end of 1929. On the morning of September 16 Townsend was seen by witness just after 6 o’clock and again about 6.45; On the first occasion Townsend went into witness’ room.

“Get up,” said Townsend. Witness refused to do so. Then Townsend went away. Townsend came a second time about half an hour later. “Come on, come on, it’s time to get up,” lie said. As it really was nearly time witness got up. Townsend said he wanted a drink. “Are von a boarder ?” asked witness.

“Yes,” said Townsend. His condition seemed all right. He was sober and quite pleasant in his

manner, just the same as when he stayed at the hotel. Witness and Townsend went into the bar. They had two drinks. Townsend had bottled beer. Then David McPncrson entered the bar and the three of them had a drink. “Have you been at the dance?” asked witness. “Yes,” said Townsend. They had had one drink each before McPherson came in aud two afterwards. At first they talked of the races. “Come and have a drink,” said Townsend when McPherson arrived. “It’s the last drink we’ll have together.” . “Why? Are you going away?” asked one of them. “No,” lie said. “You'll see in the morning’s paper.” Later he had made another remark. “I have killed a woman,” he said. Continuing, he said lie had not finished his job yet. He had some more to clean up. . “SWING, I MUST SWING.” “Swing,” said Townsend in the bar, “I must swing.” He repeated that two or three times. If one policeman came along' he would go quietly, lie said, but if a whole lot came he would shoot them. He told them ,he was going back to town and /would be having a free, ride. Neither ‘of them knew what ha was referring -to. Before McPherson arrived, Townsend had asked for a taxi to take him to Onaero. Witness got the porter to telephone O’Donnell.

When the taxi came Townsend wanted to get a parcel, which he said he had had.

"You had no parcel when you eariie here,” said witness. ‘

“Yes, I did,” was the reply. They looked in the two rooms but found no parcel. Next Townsend went to the back of the hotel and returned with a double-barrelled gun similar to the one produced. Townsend got into the car. “And you .had the same number of drinks as Townsend and McPherson?” said Mr. Moss. — • “Yes.” . . i '“And you started the day on . whisky ?” “The first drink I had was whisky.” “You were surprised when he said he had killed a woman?” “I was.” ' “Did you ring the police?” “We didn’t know till just as he was leaving.” Duncan' David, McPherson, Wellington, said Jie was formerly a hotelkeeper and had held the license of the Bridge’Hotel, Waitara. On September 16 he was boarding there. Townfiend was an excellent boarder and a very moderate drinker. He got on very well with the boarders. He did not confide his family affairs in witness or his wife. He knew 'nothing about these. There was nothing'peculiar about his manner. He always had plenty of money. Witness corroborated Mallett’s evidence. He understood Townsend had said he had killed his wife.' by cutting her throat, and “committed a murder,” as Mallett had said. He ■ said he would swing for it. He paid for the drinks with a pound . nbte. He had walked to Waitara, he explained. “What was.'his condition when you first entered the bar?” asked Mr. Weston. “He seemed quite normal,” replied McPherson. ' Answering Mr. Moss, witness admit--ted he had riot taken Townsend seriously in his references to his movement on the previous night. “Don’t talk nonsense,” he had said. .’ .;. IN A TAXI TO ONAERO, ‘ The taxi driver, William Alfred O’Donnell, said that as a result of a telephone, message he went to the Bridgb Hotel on the ’ morning of September 16, about .7.10. Townsend was in the passageway asking for a parcel. Witness' stodd'at ’ the door. The 'parcel was eventually found by , Townsend, who went down the passage. He returned and gave witness a doublebarrelled .shotgun.: .■< ■ • •: j Witness shook hands with him and asked him where he wanted to. go. “To Onaero,” replied Townsend. Asked what he was going to do v with the gun, Townsend, said he was going duck shooting at Onaero. “There are no ducks out there to shoot,” said witness. , “Well, there, are plenty of hares,” replied Townsend. Witness put the’gun in the back seat and agreed to have a drink, but. Towns- 1 end was refused a drink by Mallett. “Oh, well we will get away now,” said witness. He wanted to get back again as soon as. possible. They stopped at a bowser. Afterwards Townsend asked him to pull up at the Bridge Hotel to have a drink. They both went in, but Townsend was again refused.

“What was his condition at that: time as regards sobriety?”, asked Mr. Weston. : “Well, I had. not seen the man for three or four .months.,”, said; O’Donnell. “It seemed to me he was under the influence of liquor.” About a mile out of Waitara Townsend produced two pound notes and some silver. .'"“You had- better take this , one for. car Jure,’’ said Townsend, giying him one of the notes.;./ . ' .'. . Witness said ■ there would be some change las the fare to Onaero .was less than. £l. Town.send told him he .could keep it, as it was no good to him. ■ Somewhere. between the Waipapa factory and the Motonui school .they picked up a man named Huggins, who got into the back;seat. ~ jL. L " “Buildup and give him a- ride,/’. Said Townsend .when the.suggestion ;wa? made to him.

On the way out Townsend said he had been fleeced all his life by “old Latham” and relatives. “They’ve rode me for the last four years,” he said. He had no time for the Huses, he continued, and had “a business to fix up with them.” '

“I am a man of principle, and have been all. my life,” he said. “So is my brother.” Witness -was not certain whether he said brother or brothers. “1 have always paid my. way and never robbed anybody,” continued Townsend. “They have, robbed me of all I had and threw a crippled woman on me. Those robbed, me,” he added.

O’Donnell stopped his ear as directed. As.soon as Townsend stepped on to the road witness slammed the door and went straight on. He did not like the way Townsend was talking and thought he might do some harm. He considered he had better look at the. gun; so he drove to the top of the hill.

WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THIS MAN ?

He then turned to the man in the baek scat. “What do you make of this man I have brought out ? Open that gun and see if there is anything in. it.” They found two live cartridges in it. These he placed in his pocket and later gave them- to Constable . Lapouple! . After six minutes Townsend' - Tefurned, apparently very excited. He stamped his foot, saying: “I can’t do it on principle. The little girl Barbara hung on the motherls legs and cried.” He seemed to be in a bit of a rage. “Oh, don’t talk nonsense,” said witness. “Jump in the car and we will go to Urenui and have a Spot.” ’ ■ “j think—l think—l think we will, boy, as this will be the last one we will have together,” replied Townsend. They drove, towards Urenui. Witness-had not taken . much notice of what was said as Townsend seemed

—- to be tinder the influence df liquor; could not say he was drunk,” said wit- ;?/. ness, “but it appeared as "if he had been out two or three nights drinking.” They stopped outside the Urenui . ■ Hotel/ Townsend got out- of the car and . bought sonic matches at the store. While 'A.: he was away witness - spoke to Healy and his wife,"licerifiees bf'l'he hotel, about L / the matter. Townsend came over and ' asked for a drink but was refused.' Witness asked Heal}' to give him. one, but he ibid them to get out 61 it. “Have ■’// you the morning paper as. 1 warit to see it?” said witness. The paper had not ’ j arrived then, however. Eventually Townsend was given a small beer. '/,

Townsend told them lie had spent a good deal of money on his. daughter, Who went to dances. He did not approve ot it. The mother had' encouraged the girl to go out at night-time. He 'had done his best-for the girl,, he said. He was fairly excited. . They drove back towards 'Waitara. Townsend said he had to finish his business at Onaero, after which witness could take him to Constable Lapouple. He commenced to talk about fhe Lathams and hjs wife on the way back to 'Onaero.

“You still Jive with your wife, don’t you?” asked witness. “No, not for the last four yedrs,” said Townsend. Replying to a further question Townsend said lie did not think she was'still alive. “No, I don’t think so after last, night,”'he said. ' ' He asked if witness still had his parcel in the car and the reply was in the affirmative.. He told witness to stop at the house at Onaero as he wanted to finish his business in there. ' THE ARREST OF TOWNSEND. AVitncss, at Townsend's request, said he would stop on the hill, but he went on instead, Townsend saying nothing.After turning' the corner he saw Constable Lapouple and he’stopped the car opposite Httse’s lower gate. He tooted the horn and the-constable 'came over. The constable when first seen had been going into Huse’s gate. . , . : L f By the time the car stopped the constable had the door opened on . Townsend’s side. Townsend was then arrested. “You had no .idea there had been a murder till late’r?” asked Mr. Moss. ‘None whatever,” said O’Donnell. “So your impressions .were based, on-: just what you saw.” ' “ y es-’ ’ •• . ' It was not, tiie thick speech of a ' drunken man, said witness in describiiig Townsend’s condition. He ,spoke clearly enough, but rambled/ He walked quite' steadily. ‘He was in my car about one hour and 20 minutes,” said O’Donnell.

“This rambling conversation riiust have been going on practically the whole time?’’ said counsel. “Yes.” ,- ' ■ “You were not interested in his family troubles?” 1 -.

■ “No. I only asked him .two'questions,’’. His eyes were sunken and he seemed to have been drinking for. several nights, continued witness. He said he- had walked from New. Plymouth. As .he spoke about Jean and the. others her grew more and more excited. “This excitement was at its 'highest point when he returned to the car from the Huses’?” said counsel. ■ “Yes.” . <

“What did he do?”\ t “He just stamped his foot like.,this : and smacked his knee‘with his hand. ‘I could not do it on principle,’ he said. ‘The little girl Barbara was holding her mother’s knee’ and crying.’.He seemed terribly excited.” His talk about his family troubles was repeated again and again practically in the same, terms.' ' ) Arthur Fellows Huggins, salesman, Tokaora, near Hawera, related, how Re had been given a lift in O’Donnell’s car, .near Onaero... Townsend,..Re, .said, walked very slowly and weakly when he alighted at Onaero. .- He seemed tp be in no hurry to go into tb/> house. Witness .. - ’ was in the'back’of/the car. .Townsend ; spoke thickly, like a man who had had s'plenty to drink.' .' ■■ When Townsend came back to the car. he said he could have • done fdr ‘ them’; ” z but could ,’not because he was a man of principle, _ ’ Witness thought. Townsend had said ' t on the way to Urenui that he 'did not mind if the police did get'. . him, or if he got 60 years for it. Someone had " been doing him-out of money over a farm for 20 years. Witness left the : car at Urenui. . To Mr. Moss: Townsend appeared'to. be under considerable mental strain,’..' VISIT TO HUSE’S HOUSE. Mrs. Mary Beatrice Huse, "Mrs. Townsend’s sister, said Townsend had -always been bad-tempered—both naturally and when he was drinking. She noticed nothing peculiar in his manner. • . : ’ X): On the morning of September 16 Townsend arrived at the house at Onaero . . Y about 8 a.m. He said he wanted to talk ? to her. She told him to go outside, ' . where she would talk to him and she called her husband and asked hinj to ring the police. ; “I don’t want the police,” said Towns- . end. ■ “We’ll have them air the same,” eai-d Mrs. Huse.. She asked him what he had done with ' her sister; ' • " : “She’s where you ought to be,” fie re- r plied. She tried to shut the door so that her husband could talk on the telephone. The child Barbara was standing near- ' . by. “That’s Barbara,” observed Towns'- ■ -.f end > - ; .. ■ . > ■" She closed the door - and Townsend went away, j The Townsends, she said, were mar- ' ■ ried in. January, 1916. She stayed with ' therii at Lowgarth and at Hamilton.' - ’ It was not always a happy marriage. .. He was sometimes unreasonable -and “she was not surprised when they separated. . ; Ernest Frederick Huse, factory manager at. Onaero, corroborated his. wife's ' / statement. - Townsend, he said, was gesturing as he spoke-at,Onaero. “Was there any reason why Townsend ■. A had a grudge against you?” asked Mr. A’ Weston, referring to’statements by previous witnesses' about threats against ) Huse by Townsend. . . •i /AS “Not unless" it was because his wife and daughter stayed with us.” Witness recalled an occasion, years ago, when Townsend borrowed money to buy some furniture. There was no stated time for repayment. Townsend repaid ’’A; Mrs. Huse. . He did not pay. interest and witness told his wife not to'bother about it., ’; ' “You say you have helped-Townsend?” ■ suggested Mr. Moss. : “Yes,” said Huse. •• . “If you helped him he should have A been grateful?” “I did it to help his wife more than him.” > “Still, a normal man should have been / ..’ - grateful for that ?” < ’ “Oh, yes.” • O j. “And that was no reason for him to go out to see you with a double-barrelled gun?” . . ■ “But you don’t know him like I do, ;. said Huse. .....’ “Whao do you mean .by that?” • . ' A “I haVe always taken him to be » ’ AA) dirty coward to treat a woman as he' did.” . . < ■, . "Now we are getting your real evidence,” said Mr. Moss. “Carry on.” ' / Proceeding Huse said he knew of‘no ’ real reason why Townsend should wish ' to do him harm.’

TOWNSEND AND THE CONSTABLE.

The arrest of Townsend was described by Constable Lapouple, Waitara. O’Donnell’s car was pulled up opposite his car near Huse’s gate. He saw Townsend sitting in the front seat. He opened the door on Townsend’s side and assisted him to the road. He told him he was arresting him on a charge of murdering his wife and placed the handcuffs on him immediately. He had been informed he was armed, so searched his pockets. In the lefthand coat pocket was the blood-stained pocket-knife produced. This had a hookblade similar to that of a pruning knife. In addition seven unexploded shot-gun cartridges were found in a coat pocket. While he was searching Townsend’s pockets witness saw the gun in the back of O’Donnell’s car.

He told Townsend he was going to take him to Waitara. He resisted violently and said he would not go. “I will kick the bus to pieces,” said Townsend. “You will have to drag me if you are going to take me.”

‘I tried to humour him without avail,” said the constable. “With the assistance of my son I threw him to the ground, got the rope from the car and tied his ankles. Then we drew the long end of the rope through the handcuffs and drew his hands to his feet. We had to push him into the car.” “Is my wife dead?” asked Townsend on. the way in. - “Yes,” said the constable. “Well,” said Townsend. “It’s a good job. I should have done it years ago.” On the knife' being produced, and placed on the table at Waitara Townsend said he did it with that. “1 did it,” he said. “String me up six times over if you like. I don’t want any trial. That’s the knife and that’s the gun. I don’t want to put the country to the expense of trying me.” He said he had walked that morning from New Plymouth to Waitara in the dark and rain. He was going to shoot Mrs. Huse and her father, Latham. He had expected the police to follow him from New Plymouth. If the police had come out he would have shot the lot of them. He said he would have killed Mr. and Mrs. Huse and Latham, and had intended to come to Waitara to give himself up to the constable. He also said he had intended to shoot himself after killing his wife, but decided afterwards to kill Latham and the Huses first. He escorted Townsend to New Plymouth. He was excited and appeared to be suffering from the effects of liquor. About Christmas witness had talked with Townsend, in, Waitara. Townsend had told somebody the* constable was an old friend of his. ' ' RUMOUR HE WAS POLICE SPY. Seeing Townsend near the Bridge Hotel he spoke to him and as a result was satisfied he had not known Townsend before. It had since, transpired, however,. that he had had dealings with him about 15 years ago over some witness’ expenses at Urenui. “You told Dr. Adamson he was queer!” said Mr. Moss. - ;i “I thought' it, queer that he. should have said he had known me before,” replied the constable. “As a<matter of fact he was said to be a police spy—spying on you?” “There was such a rumour—just a rumour.” , . “Was that why you spoke to hinj.un the street?” “Oh, no.” Constable King said he had gone to Mrs. Vickers’ house in Sackville Street at 2.30 a.m. He found Mrs. Townsend lying face downward in a pool of blood. . The furniture of the room was as depicted on the plan (produced). He had. found an overcoat and an umbrella lying on the floor close to two chairs. The overcoat was very wet. The , constable, had taken the body to the morgue, removing the clothes to the police station. '. Shortly after 11 a.m. the same day he was in the watchhouse when Town-send-was brought from Waitara. . He was. very talkative and as soon as he got inside he said: “I’m the man. I’ve done it. I.Snow what I’ve done. I’ve done' it. for a good purpose'. I must say I was drunk ■ last night.” .< ■ Detective Meiklejohn then asked Constable Lapouple if Townsend had been charged. Townsend replied, “No.” •The detective then charged him with murder and issued the usual warning. “I know I am charged with murder,” replied Townsend. “I did it. I did it for my daughter’s sake. Is she dead?” “Yes,” replied the detective. “That’s a good job,”, said Townsend.' “Don’t have a court. Hang me right away. It ought to have been done years ago.” His property was lying on the table, the knife and gun being visible.

“That’s the knife, that’s the knife,” said Townsend. “That’s the gun. It < was not used, but I’ll tell you, boys, if you hadn’t come along it would have been If you had met me on the road just i after it happened it would have been.” i He was then taken away by the detec- ; tive... His condition on being brought in indicated he was just getting over a severe drinking bout. He was not drunk. < He appeared to know what he was talk- ' ing about. . . i .. . _ “You naturally didn’t examine him as to the details of the crime itself?” < asked Mr. Moss. i “No.” ■ “He kept repeating his statements several times ?’.’ “Yes, he was talking all the time.” i “And, to put it bluntly, he seemed ; quite keen to be hanged?”- 1 “Yes,” replied the . constable. EVIDENCE OF DETECTIVE. ; Detective Meiklejohn said he arrived at. the house in Sackville Street soon after 4 a.m. with Inspector Fraser and two constables. Referring to the raincoat, he said that in one of the pockets was a box of 11 cartridges. Other things . in the pocket were a box of matches 1 and a double-bladed pen-knife, appar- ] ently used for cutting tobaccb. The raincoat was wet and spattered with 1 blood. . 1 Witness described the location of various blood marks in the sitting room, kitchen and hall, on door handles, including the front door, electric light switch and the walls. £ When Townsend was brought to the ‘ New Plymouth watchhouse he started r talking a good deal. ' “I am the man,” he said. “I’ve done it. I know I’ve done for a good pur- , pose.” , Witness asked Constable Lapouple if Townsend had been charged. The con- ' stable said he had. The detective warned Townsend in the usual terms and c asked him if he knew what he was 1 charged with. 1 “Yes, murder,” he replied. “I did it. Is ® she dead?” “Yes,” said the detective. | s

"Well, it’s a good job for the girl’s sake,” said the man. “Don’t have a court. Hang me right away.” Constable Lapouple had then produced the property, including the knife and gun. ■ - • “That’s the knife I used, that’s the knife,” said Townsend. “There’s no insane or anything about me. Should have been done years ago. That’s the gun. It was never used, but if you hadn’t

come along it would have been. There’s no insanity here—a clear mind.” Some of the statements were repeated, said the detective, some more than once. Witness then took Townsend upstairs to wait with him and Constable Lapouple for the arrival of Dr. Thomson. ToWnsend saw the raincoat in the detective’s office.

“Oh, God, that’s my coat,” he said. “That’s my wife’s blood on my coat.” At this time Townsend was talking quite clearly and walking steadily. The detective did not smell liquor, but saw the man was flushed. He was talking very volubly.

He had made a careful examination and found bloodstains on Townsend’s clothing and the knife, said the detective.

I A Post Office Savings Bank book showed that on July 23, 1929, £5OO was placed to Townsend’s credit. It showed ’ that on September 15, 1930, the last £4 was withdrawn, leaving a balance of 18s. A pass book from the National Bank ’ of New Zealand, said the detective, showed that on July 23, 1929, £3OO was placed to Townsend’s credit, there being ’ a credit of £2 ss. on September 30, 1930. ■ I . , J SOME' MEDICAL DETAILS. , Dr. George H. Thomson, who arrived at the house in Sackville Street at 3.22 * a.m., described the wounds on Mrs. ’ Townsend’s body. On the back of the ‘ neck there was a large incised wound commencing just below the left ear and running around the back of the neck at ' the margin of the hair, finishing one inch below the angle of the right lower jaw. The wound was 8J inches long, and its deeper layers showed many cuts running into each other at angles. All the dorsad muscles and ligaments were severed, and the vertebrae separated. The spinal cord was completely severed. In front of the neck there were two wounds —the first a small one, transversely, immediately above the voice box and 1| inches long. This penetrated only to the muscle. There was a higher wound starting 14 inches below the angle of the lower : jaw. The wound passed across the voice box and ended immediately under the left ear, severing superficial muscles and cutting the left jugular vein. The wound was 51 inches long. On the centre of the forehead, at the edge of the scalp, was a small bruise about two inches long. He had formed the opinion at the time, said the doctor, that the assault had occurred in two phases. The wounds in front had been inflicted first because they, were not fatal, nor would they have rendered her unconscious, but the wound at the back would have caused death as soon as the cord was cut through. Mrs. Townsend had congenital double club hands, X-ray photographs of which were produced. The picture showed that on the right hand there was no thumb and only one bone in the lower arm. A post mortem examination was conducted by Dr. C. A. '"aylor and witness. It showed that the body was generally well nourished. “These wounds were of a terrible na.ture, were they not?” said Mr. Moss. “Yes.” i “Both at the front of the neck and the back?” “Not at the front, but at the back.” “Could you make an estimate of the number of cuts at the neck?” “No.” “We could put it this way—the head was almost severed?” “Yes, by the back cut.” To Mr. Weston: “The prints of the photographs were fair photographs.” That concluded the case for the Crown, said Mr. Weston. PLEA OF INSANITY ENTERED. “It must be obvious to you now after the evidence you have heard/’ said Mr. Moss in his opening address to' tire jury, «‘that you will have little difficulty in finding that the thing which killed this unfortunate woman was the hand of the accused. As the Crown has indicated, our defence is that at the time of the commission of the crime Townsend was insane. “You will disregard entirely any effect produced in your mind by the evidence of the police witnesses who saw fiim at eleven o’clock on the morning after the murder. You are not trying him on his condition on the night before the crime or the morning after the crime, but on his condition at the moment of the trial, itself.” It had been laid down in McNaughton’s case that to establish grounds of insanity, it must be proved that at the time of the act accused was labouring under such disease of the mind that at the time of committing the crime he did not know he was committing it and did not realise the consequences of the act. Thus the 1 extent of knowledge, either rightly or wrongly, instead of being put indefinitely was put at the time of the actual commie- ■ sion of the act.

They had heard sufficient from the Crown case, said. Mr. Moss, to know that for many years . Townsend had been drinking. That in itself did not excuse him from the crime, but if ne could go further and show the jury that as the effect of that drinking and other infirmness of the mind Townsend at 2.30 that morning was insane, then he submitted that the jury must find a verdict accordingly. The effect of t at verdict would not be that Townsend would go free, but that he would be detained in some suitable institution at the pleasure of the Minister of Justice.

“It is difficult to see and often to obtain, especially after a lapse of years,” said Mr. Moss, “the state of mind which has' brought about this terrible tragedy. The Crown has brought out, very fairly, many facts which doctors will state showed that Townsend was insane. As you’know, insanity is not something concrete. It is something we have to regard as a matter for skilled opinion; on which we have to resort to the opinion of skilled experts. We cannot look into a man’s mind.” It was significant, continued counsel, that the law of the country placed on the jury the responsibility of judging whether or not a man was sane or insane. The country considered that the jury was competent, after hearing ths expert evidence, of saying whether a man was sane or insane. It was not left to a board of experts; the responsibility was on the jury and the jury alone. PECULIARITIES OF INSANITY. “It is difficult for you, without previous acquaintance with a case of this sort,” said counsel, “to realise that . man may be sane on all other points and insane on one. There is the famous case of Lionel Terry, where a man was perfectly normal in nine-tenths of his existence and incurably insane in the other tenth.”

/ Counsel quoted from a book, Crime and Insanity,” by C. A. Mercier, which stated that insanity was "primarily manifest in the disorder, uot of the mind, but of the conduct.” , One could onlyi judge from a man’s conduct whether he was sane oq, insane. Mercier stated that often the disorder of the mind produced the disorder of the conduct.

“The test of insanity,’’ said Mr. Moss, “is roughly the non-recognition in the subject of the disorder. The insane man protests and claims his sanity. It is the impostor who.cries out, ‘I am mao. This man Townsend has proclaimed his sanity; he has invited the police to hang him and at the present time tnat is his desire.

“Mercier says, continued counsel, that as to the extent of insanity, it may involve the whole mind in. every departmental faculty or it may seize on one faculty. . “We laymen,” said Mr. Moss, “have the idea that a man to be insane must be insane all the time. That is wrong. Mercier says that a crime may be committed as the result of insanity lasting only a few minutes or seconds. Crime may be promoted by a single isolated delusion.”

His Honour said he wished to point out to counsel that it was laid down by Section 43 of the Crimes Act that the mere existence of delusion was not sufficient in itself. In delusional insanity it was laid down that a person was not to be acquitted unless the delusions caused him to believe in the existence of some such state of things which, if they had. existed, would have justified the act which the person committed.

The basis of insanity in the case was not confined to the existence of delusions, continued Mr. Moss. He would submit that, he had shown the existence of delusions. They illustrated a • disease of the mind which had been affecting Townsend since January last —“I can prove that,” said counsel, “and possibly for a number of years. I pass from that phase,” he added, “just asking you .to remember that insanity may be a matter of seconds. WERE THERE EVIDENCES? “Were there evidences of insanity in Townsend?” asked counsel. “You have seen that he acted as if he believed certain facts about his wife, but to this I shall make no further reference except to say that he mentioned certain statements about her conduct before marriage. He mentioned and kept repeating to everyone the questions of Jean’s conduct and the control of Jean, which Jean assures me was quite unfounded. Yet - Townsend believed that he had a genuine complaint on those matters. He had the fixed idea in his head that Latham and the Huses had robbed him and had fleeced him, and there was, too, something about a farm. Yet you have heard Latham and Huse give assurances that those things were not well founded.’’ As Mears, the accused’s own solicitor had said, Townsend gave one the impression that he was a morose and solitary man of dull intellect. It was such a man living by himself and drinking continually over a long period on whom delusions would result in disordered conduct. These delusions were so fixed as to indicate some progressive disease of the mind; he became progressively worse. ■ If Townsend could hold his drink, as the Crown had said, why was it that,, after three drinks, in O’Donnell’s car he should begin to rave about I>s wrongs? O’Donnell and Stanton did not want to listen to him. If it was not the drink that started him what was it? “You will notice,” continued counsel, that each time it reached the same conclusion and dealt with the same subjects—his wife, Jean, Latham and the Huses. ■ “There is another fact which experts. advise me shows that he was insane,” said Mr. Moss. “Townsend had contrived and was,in the act of carrying out a ..scheme known to doctors as mass mur*der< Taylor’s Medical. Jurisprudence gave it as a limit to a sane 'person to kill two persons. When a man went beyond that and showed the intention to commit mass murder, then they were in another realm and the person was insane. It was part of the Crown case .that Townsend., went out. with- the-in-tention of wiping out the Huses and ■Latham. He had a knife and a gun with 20 cartridges. Was that the act and preparation of a sane man? Again, unlike a sane man, he had announced his intention to do the thing. Jean had said he had made a threat in. Hamilton to cut her mother's throat. He had announced to Stanton that he should tell Huse that there was a cloud hanging over him. What a strange ex- -' pression that was, said counsel, for a sane man to use!

His Honour wished to point out that counsel must satisfy, the jury that by reason of his disease - of the mind accused was in such a condition when he did it as to be incapable of understanding the nature and the quality of the act and incapable’ of knowing it was wrong.

He hoped to, show,- continued Mr. Mose, that Townsend, by reason of tne disease of his mind, did not know what he was doing, or if he x did know, did not know he was doing wrong. . INTERPRETING THE FACTS. “You have heard the facte,” said counsel, “and you may say, ‘Well, those facts are consistent with the acts of a sane man.’ Alienists, however, are agreed that in a sane man there would appear to be motives, but that in an insane man the motive is simple and personal, such as revenge or a wish- to slay. A motive may exist and preparation may exist in the mind of an insane man. The insane man can lay all the plans and take all the precautions of a sane man.”

What was Townsend’s conduct twelve hours prior to the crime? asked Mr. Moes. At the boarding-house, when he was leaving that night, he exhibited extraordinary conduct. Without the slightest warning he decided to leave the boarding-house. It was a sudden determination and, when leaving it that evening, as the jury would hear, he had rushed into the sitting-room and asked Duffil for 10s that he owed him. Duffil had said, “Well, you needn’t tell

the whole town.” Later Townsend had said, “Well, I’m going. I’ll shake hands with you—no, I’m .if I will!” Then he had shaken hands with Smith, who asked him . “Where are you. going?” Townsend had said, ‘‘l'm going to Sydney; I’m going to swim there.” Smith, a noted naturalist, had noticed something very unusual in the man. Then Townsend went out to the verandah and met Messenger and Duffil and again he went through the business. Messenger had not taken much notice but Duffil thought he was queer and marked, as Smith had done, the extraordinary expression of his face. The jury would remember, continued counsel, that Jean at ten o'clock that evening had noted the queer look in her father’s eyes. What was his subsequent conduct? He repeated his visits to the house. There was no attempt to break in; he showed no intention of committing murder. His intention was to discuss with his wife the questions affecting Jean. In spite of his repeated visits none of these women were afraid of him. They gave him coffee, asked him to sit down and wait till daybreak. He showed no signs of those symptoms which a sane man would show if he went to the house to commit murder. If he went there to kill her, why did he not kill her at ten o'clock at night?. There was no evidence at all that i. e gun was anywhere near the house. There was some evidence that there was a parcel in the. back of the taxi but no-one in the house saw firearms. “Now we come to two o'clock in the morning,” eaid Mr. Moss. "There was a man whose appearance is well known to several people in that house. His appearance did not frighten them. If it had been through drink he would have carried out the murder the first time, the second time or the third' time he visited the house,-if he had gone there to kill her. He did none of those things. He was admitted quietly through the' French windsws..

MOMENTS BEFORE TRAGEDY. “He stands leaning with his hands on the back of a chair. His wife tells him - to take off his coat or he will catch a. chill. He does eo. : W hat is the object of that in a. man who has gone there to kill his wife? A minute or two prior to the commission of the act they were all talking quietly, there was no terror in the mind of Miss Patchel, and the whole air was such that it was possible to make a. joke about Townsend's umbrella. They all laughed. “Then within minutes took place that fact w uch, 1 submit, will convince you that this man was not sane and that he did not know what he was doing. Nurse Patchel, the trained observer, saw his face and expression change. ‘I became terrified and left the room,’ she said. As a matter of fact she jumped over the chesterfield. “What caused that change? The Crown may say it was a sudden fit of temper and the .determination to kill his wife. Why it is that it came then? Was there any aggravation or disagreement? There was nothing of that nature to cause the change. He did not know what he was doing. You will notice that his touching of the telephone did not take place until the change had come over his face.” What was the next act which showed it was the act of a madman? asked Mr. Moss. They had heard Dr. Thomson describe the wounds? They were terrible wounds which went far beyond any wounds necessary to cause death. They would have to decide whether a sane man could inflict such wounds on a dbg, let alone on his wife. He submitted that on the evidence Townsend was hacking at the woman for minutes after she was dead. That, he submitted, was the act of a madman. Next morning what was his conduct then? He walked about with that gun, said he had been duck shooting, went to the hotel for a drink. Did he make any attempt to break away? He went into the hotel and said: “I have killed a woman,”

“It is an extraordinary thing/’ said counsel, “that in many cases of murder by the insane the insane man seeks no escape. He delivers himself up to justice; he acknowledges the crime. Did Townsend acknowledge it? Why, they could not stop him from talking about it. He said, ‘I did it, I am the man, there is no insane or anything about me.’ Townsend’s openness to the police, his saying he was quite sane, are all consistent with what alienists have found in connection with insane criminals.” DESCRIPTION OF WRONGS. The jury would have noted the fact that in the description by Townsend of his alleged wrongs to O’Donnell and the others his anger seemed to develop as he dwelt upon his troubles. It was a strange filing that in the room that night he was able to talk about his troubles without the development pf

anger. Another queer fact was that though the Crown case showed that though he laid out all his plans and went to Onaero with the one object of murder there he did not carry out his intentions. Counsel submitted that this showed a lack of real intent. If a sane man had gone out with a loaded gun to kill the Huses he would have done so.

Another extraordinary circumstance was that he had said to Constable Lapouple: “Is she dead?” And this after inflicting those terrible injuries! Counsel submitted this was not the question of a normal man. Again, at the station, although he had been charged with murder he again asked this extraordinary question, “Is she dead?’ This was not, he submitted, the question of a normal man. And Townsend asked it after he had said he knew what ne had done and knew he was charged with murder. Again, said counsel, he would emphasise the difficulty of pointing out whether the man was insane at that time. The difficulty in deciding was shown in Taylor's book of medical jurisprudence. His Honour said that what counsel must show was: (1) Natural imbecility or disease of the mind —but that in itself was not sufficient; and (2) that the natural imbecility or disease of the mind extended to such an extent at the time of the act as to render the accused incapable of understanding the nature or (quality of the act and incapable of knowing that'it was wrong. There was another element dealing with the general question of insanity, continued Mr. Moss, and that was the lack of the remorse or sorrow that would be felt by the normal or sane man. There seemed to be in Townsend a lack of recognition of what he had done. He seemed to have been extremely light-hearted about the whole business next morning. He had said: “Is she dead ? A good job. I did it for my daughter’s sake.” One fact had. not been challenged by the Crown. Throughout he had been solicitous of his daughter Jean. He -was well thought of by the boarders at the place he stayed at and by the Children there. That showed what an extraordinary state must have caused the outbreak.

“In addition to the Crown evidence,” said counsel, “I shall bring further evidence of the peculiarity, moodiness and disconnected conversation of the accused. One witness in particular had noticed his tendency to talk to himself. He would walk round, stop suddenly, stamp his feet and mutter. He acted just in the way he had acted before he got into the car to go on the first visit to Onaero.

Townsend had been examined on the night of the murder by Dr. Walker and Dr. Reid, and by other doctors for the Crown. Dr. Walker would say he questioned Townsend closely on the actual details of the crime itself. He found a loss of reasoned memory. “I submit,” said counsel, “that it was a fact that that brain had ceased to function on the morning of, the six-

teenth, that when his face changed he did not know what he was doing, what he did was without intent, and he, did not know he was doing wrong. If he went there to kill his wife why did he do it after waiting-four hours?-Why did Nurse Patchel notice his change of countenance?” i On January 20 Dr. Adamson had been consulted by Townsend. Dr, Adamson found that Townsend showed signs of having been through a drinking bout. Townsend had the idea that he was dying and that he was a doomed man. He kept saying, this to the doctor, kept walking around the surgery and would not sit down. The doctor had formed an opinion which he would give in the box. “I do not care,” said Mr. Moss, “whether the man is sane now or not. Men are known to recover sanity after comjnitting terrible acts. The question of his insanity to-day does not enter in. The question is, was he insane at the moment he committed the act?” FIRST WITNESS FOR DEFENCE. The first witness for the defence was Charles Henry Duffil, machinist, New Plymouth, who said he lived at the Grand Vue boarding-house during seven months Townsend was there. He saw him every day. He was a very quiet man and easy to get along with, though a bit cantankerous now and again. On several occasions he came home after having drink. He would then become talkative and excited. He never made threats, or mentioned to witness about his wife or daughter. On the morning before the tragedy Townsend spoke to him of the races. Townsend said he was having a bet. He agreed to “put 10s on” for witness, who did not have the cash at the time., He next saw Townsend in the sitting-room after tea. Some strangers were there. He came in in a blustering manner. “Hey/ he said, “you owe me ten bob.” Witness resented it very muchTownsend had never spoken to him like that before. “You needn’t tell the whole room.” “Shake hands,” said Townsend. “I'm going away.” A moment later he said: “No, I’m — — if I will.” Witness followed him to the verandah. “Here Towny, you had better take that ten bob.” He would not. “Did you give it to the man I gave it for?” asked witness. “No,” said Townsend. “I did not. You. had better give it to him. Witness put the money in Townsend's waistcoat pocket. Townsend pulled it out and threw it on the grass. “Don’t do that,” said witness. “The wind will blow it away.” •“I don’t want it,” said Townsend, and he pulled out a roll of notes, about £25.

Witness said he was surprised nt Townsend’s action. They were good friends and such a thing had not occurred before. When Messenger had asked him tn the morning if he were going to the

races Townsend said: “No. I’m going to swim the ocean to Sydney.” “You’re mad,” said Messenger. “I’m not mad,” said Townsend. “I in going to swim the ocean to Sydney.” was neither drunk nor sober. Witness had noticed his face was white. He took the remark as a joke on Townsend's part at, first, but took it more seriously Townsend had spoken of his daugnter Jean. He showed him a photograph on his dressing table and said he thought a lot of her. Witness had never considered Townsend likely to do anything like this. “Was the expression on his face similar to any you had seen before due to drink?” asked Mr. Moss. “No, I never saw it before.” EVIDENCE OF BROTHER. Robert Henry Townsend, farmer of Hamilton, said his brother when younger had kept a good deal to himself. He was a quiet man but always mixed with other men. He was not moody in his early days. While in Hamilton six years ago ' a change appeared to develop. He was much quieter and would walk past people without recognising them. He had passed witness several times in this way just before he left Hamilton. He just walked straight on. He had had no quarrel. “Then there was no reason why you should not have spoken to him?” suggested His Honour. ‘ “That may come out later oh,” said witness. .“But why didn’t you speak?” “I wasn’t going to speak till ne spoke to me.” To Mr. Weston: Townsend did not drink heavily. Witness had . never had more than three or lour drinks at a time with him. Admittedly Townsend was going through an unhappy time then, - “Tell His Honour why he was not speaking to you?” “Because I didn’t stay at his place on the night of the Hamilton .show. I stayed there two shows before.” “And he took offence at it?”' said Mr. Weston. “Yes. I had just come out of hospital and went to stay with a niece.” About a week later he met Townsend. “I’ve finished with you,” he said. “I wasn’t good enough. You would not stay with me.” Witness had not been friendly with him since. Once he saw him at the races and told him his daughter Jean was staying with witness and wanted to see him. He could not say whether he was happier after coming to New Plymouth. Patrick Crosbie, farmer, Claudelands, said Townsend lived on the opposite side of the road for several years. He saw him four or five times a week, but his wife and daughter not so often.

He understood the Townsends were not happy. Townsend often came to •his house and several times helped with the harvesting. - He would describe Townsend as “a nice man generally, but very changeable.” He would commence to speak on one'subject and then change to something else apparently without reason. He was a man of moods.

“What' do you mean?” asked Mr. Moss.

Sometimes, said witness, when I was fixing a fence or cutting scrub, he would stop and have a yarn. At others he would go right past. The ordinary man would have spoken under such circumstances.

“Was he a quiet man?” “Oh, medium. Sometimes one way and sometimes the other.”

Generally To'wnsend seemed to be a bit eccentric. He knew him eight or nine years. To Mr. Weston: He last saw him about three years ago. He had not seen him again till he came to New Plymouth for this case. HE DID NOT SPEAK. John Townsend, farmer, Puni, near Pukekohe, said one night this year, about April, he was walking in a Hamilton street when his brother Alex, came along. His head was bent. Witness spoke toi.him, but he did not answer and carried on in the same position. He had never acted that way before and they never had had a quarrel.

“When he didn’t answer you did you say ‘What’s wrong, Alex?”’ said Mr. Weston. “No, I stood and looked at him.” “Did he see you?” asked His Honour.

“I don’t think he did.” Witness said that was the only time he saw him on that occasion. William Walter Smith, re tired f forester, New Plymouth, said he lived at Grand Vue for 12 months, of which Townsend had been under his notice for seven months. He saw him-, almost every day when he was at home. Townsend would be away fop a week or a fortnight at a time. He had watched Townsend closely. He was a man of extreme moods—calm to violence. He appeared to have an arrested mentality. His conversation was always of a frivolous nature and never seemed to rise above that of a boy aged 11 or 12. “He impressed me as - being illiterate,” continued Smith. His conversation was vfery trivial. When left to himself he would occasionally work himself into violent moods. He would sit on a seat outside, one leg across the other and held closely. His eyes would be on the ground. He would dash his right fist into his left hand, the action being sometimes accompanied by cursing. At times witness had interrupted him in these actions. He was muttering and cursing to himself. “It is a damned lie,” he would say. “Have you never heard much more intellectual people than he say that?” asked His Honour.

“No, I don’t think so, sir,” said Smith. s

“Not when they were sitting muttering on a seat?” (suggested counsel. “No.”

i He would get up and walk about when interrupted, continued witness. He had seen him jump up violently and walk about the lawn, stamp his feet and curse them. ' ;

Occasionally when spoken to he would get up from the seat and walk away from the place altogether. Witness knew of no reason for these moods.

“Have you in your long experience seen any ordinary man acting as Townsend?” asked Mr. Moss. “Never.” “Why did, you interrupt him?” “Because it was unpleasant to see.” “You formed these impressions before you knew of the Fitzroy tragedy?” “Yes.” NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY. On the night of the tragedy Townsend rushed into the sitting-room with his hat on and accused two of the boarders. He had been drinking. He came across to witness, shook hands ai ' said good-bye. “Where are you going?” said witness. “I am going to Sydney,” he said. “I am going to swim there.” That was the last witness saw of him. He seemed to be wholly non compos mentis, judging by his features. “You are a naturalist, are you not, Mr. Smith?” said His Honour. “Yes.” “Not an alienist?” observed the judge.

Witness said Townsend was pale and ao-itated. He walked straight; he might < have had drink. When he was drunK < he usually had his hands in his pdck4J et£. “You say he was illiterate,” said Mr. '■ Moss. “How do you come to that con-/Y elusion?” “One day I was reading a book when he came up tn me and asked what I ywas reading,” replied Smith. “I told him it was Carlyle’s French •What is that?’ he asked.” “And you judged from that that. he was illiterate?” said Mr. Moss. „• VY/ “Yes.” WS

“To take a simpler illustration, did he ever ask you to read any letters - . fo him?” asked counsel. “Perhaps you did set too high a standard with Carlyle, Mr. Moss?” ob-ft. served His Honour. Smith said Townsend had handed him a letter to read to him. • “Did you know he was going through ,-j his money at the rate of £7OO a year?” ■ asked Mr. Weston. - “Yes.” /"i “And that he was losing heavily, bet-. Aft ting at the races and away from them!'* <■' “Yes.” Witness said Townsend drank very . heavily at tiin-s, but. never made a nuisance of himself in the house. “Do you consider his muttering , moods in the garden might have been caused bv losses at races?” “Yes, it might be. He was very . moody when he came back from Auckland.” .. To His Honour: When Townsend said he was going to Sydney witness had not considered it as a joke. It might ? well be that his answer was a polite, evasive answer'to his question where' he was going. Dr. Ernest Alexander Walkqr, New Plymouth, said that, accompanied by Dr. W. J. Reid, he examined Townsend; in prison on the day of the tragedy at 8.15 p.m. and again on three subsequent occasions. Townsend was absolutely calm and collected, lying on a mattress on the floor of a padded cell. Reading; -ft from notes taken at the time the doctor gave an account of interviews..j;i> Townsend, he said, was clear about the details of the past few hours of his life, but muddled and confused when'-:; questioned regarding the details of the tragedy. ‘ TOWNSEND IN PRISON. ' J He showed no remorse whatsoever, and no sorrow. “The deed is done,” he said, “and well done, so I hear.” Short-/:/ ly afterwards he repeated the phrase T in a slightly different form. “The deed is done and apparently well done.” The doctor questioned him regarding the details of the tragedy. He said he'did not see blood pouring from his-VY wife’s throat and did not hear her cry out. She did not struggle.

“I tried to get the history leading up v to the struggle, but could not obtain any details,” continued Dr. Walker. . : “Can’t be helped now,” Townsend had said. “The only thing is that we should • have Jone together.” • Questioned regarding the knife Townsend said he did not remember taking it out of his pocket, nor putting, it back. “I found it in my pocket this morning,” he said, “and there was a .<; little blood about it. _ .-AW “Mrs. Vickers and her sister were alongside of my wife when I attacked her,” he went on. The doctor question- ■/; ed the accuracy of this; statement, whereupon Townsend replied. “Must have been.” . ' ■'.■'AiW “Did you go to the house with theijc fel intention of injuring your wife?” man was asked.

“No,” he said. “I went out with the intention of having a talk with her about my daughter. I never laid a hand on her in my life. Apparently I did this time.” .-

Asked where he got the gun h© re-* plied he did not take it to the hous© at the time. “On the following after-' noon,” he said, “the gun was planted in Sackville Street, but not by me.” “The deed' was done by me,” .said Townsend. “There is no way out of it, and now I have to pay the penalty. Yes, ‘ the deed was done by me. I do not wish to get out of it in any shape or Y form.” -

Why had' he called at Huse’s in the •flmorning? he was asked. f ; ' XSi “Why not?”'he replied. “It was ali wavs my habit.” • ' “Even under these circumstances?**

reasoned the doctor. . • ' But Townsend saw no reason for not going to the Huse’s. ■ '/’■A'S “Was it not like this?” suggested the doctor. “After a heated conversation with your wife didn’t you lose control of yourself?” " ‘ “It was done, it was done anyway,” '‘Ag he replied. He was perfectly clear in - $ the details, except in those relating to the immediate surroundings of the crime. At the next interview on September 'Ag 19 Townsend was rather gloomy and. uncommunicative. “It apparently was done and that is the end of it,” was all he would say. On October 6 the doctor questioned him regarding the breaking of the telephone'cord at Mrs. Vickers’ house. I didn’t break it,” he said. “What would I want to break it for?” And he added; “It appears I did a lot of thing® that night and I have to pay the pen- .' J aity.” . “I asked him if he was worrying all,” continued the doctor. - “Worrying—no,” he replied quite calmly. “What have I to worry about?” He had no realisation of the quality of his act, observed the doctor, whose! further examination was at this stagr ■ adjourned until this morning. ’ —. . „• Wl