by Payne, Chris
Despite some press concerns over the Austrian trial proceedings, de Tourville’s conviction for the murder of his wife seems as robust as any other Victorian murder conviction, in which the forensic tools available to the police were very limited. Likewise, Mrs Brigham’s death was probably a deliberate act on de Tourville’s part. He may have attempted to murder his son in a fire in 1871, but did not succeed. Indeed, he seems to have been responsible for rescuing him (albeit at the last minute), despite the fact that, if his son had died, he would at last have got his hands on the capital and income from his first wife’s estate.86 If de Tourville had been arrested and tried in a timely fashion for the murder of his mother-in-law, then Madeline Miller would not have died. A key question therefore remains: why did George Clarke not initially pursue the suspicions of de Tourville that he claimed (in 1876) to have had during April 1868?
A number of issues may have affected the 1868 decision not to proceed with further enquiries against de Tourville. In one account of the case, the author Charles Kingston suggested that the investigating officer from Scotland Yard was probably bribed by de Tourville (albeit that Kingston claimed incorrectly that Druscovich was in charge of the inquiry).87 This cannot be ruled out but, as Clarke’s enquiries into Mrs Brigham’s death only started after an inquest jury had already returned an ‘accidental death’ verdict, the principal targets for any such bribery would have been the coroner, key witnesses and/or the inquest jury. Undoubtedly, the fact that an inquest had already reached a verdict of accidental death before Clarke arrived on the scene influenced the decision of whether or not to pursue further inquiries. Inquest verdicts were not easily overturned. For example, although the first Bravo inquest verdict had been discounted, it had taken a legal review in a higher court to overturn it. Clarke’s 1868 report on Mrs Brigham’s death had not contained any evidence that had not already been considered at the inquest on Mrs Brigham. In addition, as Clarke was investigating a case outside the Metropolitan Police area, he would have required the agreement of the Cheshire Constabulary to pursue matters further. It is also relevant to consider what other priorities the Metropolitan Police had at that time. In April 1868, Commissioner Mayne and the detective department were nervously awaiting the outcome of the Clerkenwell trial. Their principal focus for the previous two years had been the policing of the Fenian conspiracy and, after the Clerkenwell explosion, it would not be surprising if the pressure that the detective department was facing, from politicians, press and public, meant that other cases received less attention.
With the benefit of hindsight, Clarke was wrong to advise Mayne in April 1868 that there was no basis for further enquiries. However, when Clarke reported in 1876 that he had suspected de Tourville’s evidence in the shooting of his mother-in-law, nothing in the surviving Scotland Yard documentation suggest that Clarke was regarded by his superiors as in any way culpable. Indeed, Clarke probably had renewed motivation to ensure that de Tourville was not allowed to commit any further murders, and his superiors let him get on with it.
The Gathering Storm
As 1876 moved toward its conclusion, the detective department was under pressure. It had been a testing year for Clarke and for the department. It is not unreasonable to assume that the British public found it difficult to understand why the police had failed to solve the ‘murder’ of Charles Bravo when it was so obviously (depending on your personal prejudice) Mrs Cox, or Florence Bravo, or Dr Gully, or any combination of all three. Equally, the gossips discussing Madeline de Tourville’s death and that of Mrs Brigham cannot have failed to ask themselves why the police hadn’t prevented the former by conducting a ‘proper investigation’ of the latter. In addition, a high-profile art theft had occurred, when the portrait by Gainsborough of the Duchess of Devonshire was stolen on 26 May. Despite the efforts of Inspector Meiklejohn and Sergeant Reimers, no significant progress had been made by Scotland Yard in recovering the picture. (In 1901 Adam Worth, ‘the Napoleon of crime’, struck a deal with Agnews, the art dealers, to return the painting.88) Worse was to come. At the end of September, the department were alerted by a solicitor, Michael Abrahams, that another ‘turf fraud’ was underway.89 However this fraud, the subject of the next chapter, would have an impact much greater than the fraudsters themselves had contemplated.
It was not until August 1877 that it became known that Clarke had sought to retire from the police during 1876; scarcely surprising for a man aged 58, with thirty-six years’ service in an occupation in which few stayed as long as he had.90 What persuaded him to continue is not certain. As he enjoyed some time with his family and friends between Christmas and New Year, and had time to reflect, he must have hoped that 1877 would be easier than the year that he had just emerged from. Unfortunately for him, it would be much more difficult.
7
THE GREAT TURF SWINDLE AND POLICE CORRUPTION
1876–77
I read with regret in the news of the day
That detectives are all in our criminals pay,
And the wages they get are so awfully high
It must cost a small fortune their silence to buy.
I’ve a robbery planned and I’m ready to start,
But I want to know first with how much I must part.
No longer the course of my scheme to retard
I will send for the Tariff of Fees to ‘the Yard’.1
The Great Turf Swindle
In late September 1876 Michael Abrahams, solicitor of the London firm of Abrahams and Roffey, arrived at Scotland Yard for a meeting with Superintendent Williamson. He was representing a French client, Comtesse Marie Cécile de Goncourt, who suspected, somewhat belatedly, that she had become the victim of a fraudulent enterprise operated from London.2 In late August the comtesse had received in the post a copy of 5 August edition of an English sporting newspaper, The Sport and Racing Chronicle, together with a covering letter and a translation, in French, of one of the editorial articles. This particular article expressed sympathy for a commission agent, Andrew Montgomery, who had been so successful in selecting winning horses at British race tracks that bookmakers had closed ranks to limit their losses and had decided to accept Mr Montgomery’s bets only at much shorter odds than those available to the general public. Deploring this action on the part of the bookmakers, the article went on to suggest that Montgomery’s only option would be to employ agents outside Britain who could place bets on his behalf. Commission would be paid to the agents, and they would have the opportunity to invest some of their own money on his horse-racing selections. An accompanying letter, also in French, invited the recipient to become one of Mr Montgomery’s agents; offered to provide references if required; promised 5 per cent commission, probably amounting to 5,000–6,000 francs a week (about £200–300); and assured the comtesse that all communications would remain strictly private and confidential.3
The comtesse responded positively to the invitation. Within a few days she received the numerical codes for horses that Montgomery had selected from a bookmaker’s list, against which bets should be placed, together with several cheques drawn on the Royal Bank of London, already signed by one George Simpson. The considerate Montgomery had also provided the names and addresses of two ‘sworn bookmakers’, Charles Jackson and Jacob Francis, to whom the bets and signed cheques should be submitted. All the comtesse had to do was post them to the bookmakers. Within a few days, sizeable cheques were received by the comtesse from the bookmakers, as the selected horses had apparently won. She duly forwarded these to Mr Montgomery from whom she received the promised commission for her services in the form of another Royal Bank of London cheque, together with a reminder that, because of British banking regulations, a certain time had to elapse between the issue date of a cheque and its presentation for payment. Convinced by the smooth operation of the scheme, and the very solicitous and encouraging correspondence she received from Mr Montgomery, the comtesse decided to invest some of her own money. Guided by correspondence from Mr Montg
omery, she invested a total of £10,000 and was considering a further £20,000 investment. However, she needed to obtain the additional money from her bankers. Suspecting that the scheme was fraudulent, they convinced her to leave the £20,000 where it was, and to contact her notary, Monsieur Chavances, with some speed. It was Chavances who had contacted Abrahams and Roffey.4
Abrahams had probably done some homework before he arrived at Scotland Yard but, even if he hadn’t, it would not have taken too long for the detective department to establish that there was no such sporting newspaper as The Sport and Racing Chronicle; no such bank as the Royal Bank of London; no such profession as a ‘sworn bookmaker’ and indeed, no known bookmakers with the names Charles Jackson or Jacob Francis. The scheme was another fraudulent betting operation and, unless the police were able to act promptly to locate the fraudsters and recover the money, the Comtesse de Goncourt (and some other French citizens who had also succumbed to the scheme’s plausibility) would have learnt the hard way that there is no such thing as a sure bet. Once the nature of the fraud was fully recognised, the comtesse and her legal representatives proved relentless in their determination to ensure that the culprits were arrested and her money recovered.
Clarke would have been the natural choice to lead the Scotland Yard inquiries. However, because many of the documents involved in the case were in French and because he was busy with the de Tourville and Charles Howard cases, Superintendent Williamson allocated the new turf fraud investigations to Chief Inspector Druscovich. When Williamson went on holiday for a month from 28 September, Clarke, as usual, was left in charge of the department as the investigation got going.5 After a conversation with Abrahams, Druscovich visited the London addresses that the French contacts had provided, including some rooms at 8 Northumberland Street (near Scotland Yard) which had been used as the gang’s headquarters. He found that the tenants had disappeared. However, the landlords provided descriptions of several men who had occupied the rented accommodation. From the descriptions given, it appeared that there were at least five men involved (in fact there were only four), several of whom were using aliases. Warrants were therefore obtained for the arrest of the ‘five’ individuals on a charge of obtaining £10,000 by fraudulent conspiracy; the wanted men were initially recorded as ‘Andrew Montgomery’, ‘Jacob Francis’ and ‘Charles Jackson’ (the three mentioned in the correspondence with the Comtesse de Goncourt), plus ‘Thomas Ellerton’ and ‘Richard Gregory’. Visits to London money changers on 28 September yielded the information that one company, Reinhardt’s, had changed about £13,000 of francs into Bank of England notes over the last few weeks, for a man calling himself ‘Richard Gregory’. As the notes were numbered, and the numbers had been recorded by Reinhardt’s, Druscovich asked for transactions with these notes to be stopped, but there was some delay in implementing this.6
On 3 October news was received from the Bank of England that most of the notes had been paid in by a Glasgow firm and Druscovich wrote a letter on the same day to the Glasgow police, asking for their help in tracing the individual who had paid the notes in; the letter was countersigned by Clarke as the officer in charge. Druscovich travelled up to Glasgow overnight on 4 October and was told that the Glasgow transactions had been traced to a man called Coster, whose description fitted that of the ‘bookmaker’ Jacob Francis – as later published on 8 November: ‘35 years of age, 5ft. 4in.or 5in. high, sallow complexion, black moustache, very thin round the waist, now growing whiskers, has cut on side of left eye, wears diamond studs and rings, pretends to be lame, and carries two sticks, dark complexion, supposed to be a Frenchman, but speaks English well.’7
Coster/Francis had successfully exchanged £10,000 numbered Bank of England notes for the equivalent amount in £100 Clydesdale banknotes (un-numbered, as was Scottish practice). In ‘laundering’ the money in this way, the fraudsters hoped to reduce the risk of being tracked down; however, Clydesdale banknotes were relatively unfamiliar outside their area, and police forces around the country were alerted to report any transactions involving such currency.
Enquiries were made at the London railway termini for any information about the movements of a man fitting the description of ‘Jacob Francis’. One cabman at St Pancras remembered collecting a fare answering Francis’ description on the morning of 4 October, but could not remember the destination though it was somewhere in Stoke Newington. The cabman’s horse had gone lame during the journey and the passenger had transferred to another cab. Despite a £2 reward being offered to track down the second cabman, no further information was obtained by Detective Sergeant von Tornow, the officer dealing with this task.8 Abrahams, concerned at what he saw as slow progress in the investigations, decided to employ some private investigators to help in the search for the fraudsters.
On 25 October, Chief Constable of Leeds William Henderson wrote to Superintendent Williamson (still on leave) to point out that a £100 Clydesdale banknote had been changed in Leeds by a man called Meiklejohn. The letter should have arrived in the detective department on 26 October, when Clarke was attending the Old Bailey trial of Charles Howard, and Druscovich was in charge of the office. However, Williamson did not discover the existence of this letter until the end of December, when the Leeds chief constable visited him in London. When Druscovich was asked by Williamson about the letter, he claimed to know nothing about it. By that time in the investigation, missing correspondence in the office was being regarded as a cause for suspicion rather than merely an item lost by the postal service.9
Williamson returned to the office from his holiday on 28 October and, having received the offer of a £1,000 reward from Abrahams, publicly issued the descriptions of the five men believed to be involved in the fraud. There was an immediate and positive response. The postmaster at Shanklin, Isle of Wight, recognised the description of ‘Jacob Francis’ as consistent with that of Mr G.H. Yonge, the recent resident of Rose Bank, Shanklin. In addition, the postmaster had noticed that a girl in Shanklin, who had developed a relationship with Yonge’s manservant, Pierre Ponchon, had been sending letters to Ponchon addressed to the Queen’s Hotel, Bridge of Allan – a spa town in Scotland. This news coincided with the discovery in Edinburgh on 9 November of the printer of the ‘Royal Bank of London’ cheques.10 These leads directed the hunt to Scotland, and the search was now on for Mr Yonge and the other fraudsters.
Druscovich headed north to Scotland, arriving at Bridge of Allan on the 11 November. He just missed the suspected fraudsters, two of whom had been staying there but had left somewhat hastily after receiving a telegram. They had paid their bill with a £100 Clydesdale banknote. One fitted the description of Mr Yonge, the other had signed in as Mr W. Gifford. It later emerged that the two men had established an account at the Clydesdale Bank in Alloa, using some of the £100 Clydesdale banknotes. However, they had not been alone during their stay at the Queen’s Hotel. They had been seen at dinner in the company of three known policemen, including one from Edinburgh and one from Glasgow; the third policeman was Inspector Meiklejohn.11
When Druscovich returned from Scotland on 18 November he brought with him some items of correspondence that had been addressed to Mr Gifford, in one of which, the writer had revealed:
There is very strong particulars from Edinburgh, which I suppose you know; they have the address at the shop there. It is also known that you were in Edinburgh a day or two ago. Perhaps you had better see me – things begin to look fishy. News may be given to Isle of Wight, where Shanks is. You know best. Wired from Edinburgh that plates have been seized. A letter from Shanklin saying that one of the men well known there, D. goes to Isle of Wight tomorrow. Send this back.
W. Brown, who was with you at the ‘Daniel Lambert’.12
The second item of correspondence consisted of a piece of blotting paper with the words: ‘Keep the lame man out of the way.’13 Both messages were clearly intended to provide Gifford with information that would assist him and Yonge in evading arrest. When Superintendent W
illiamson was shown the correspondence by Druscovich, he did not recognise the handwriting on the blotting paper. However, he was well acquainted with the handwriting on the letter: it was that of Chief Inspector William Palmer of Scotland Yard.
The record of what Superintendent Williamson did next is not complete. Meiklejohn’s name had now cropped up twice in police enquiries (though in November, Williamson was still unaware that Meiklejohn had been linked to a Clydesdale banknote transaction in Leeds). Williamson accordingly wrote to Meiklejohn on 15 November asking him to explain why he had been in the company of two wanted men at Bridge of Allan, between 4 and 6 November. Meiklejohn’s response was that he had arranged a meeting there with two Scottish policemen who were helping him with enquiries about a stolen portmanteau. He claimed that he had unexpectedly met Yonge, whom he had known since 1875 when Yonge had given him some useful information. While he was at the Queen’s Hotel, Yonge had introduced him to his companion, Gifford, and they had dined together.14
Precisely what transpired between Superintendent Williamson and Chief Inspector Palmer at that time is unknown. However, faced with evidence of corruption in the detective department, Williamson undoubtedly informed his superiors, and probably discussed the issue with his trusted lieutenant, Clarke. By 21 November the permanent secretary at the Home Office was in correspondence with Commissioner Henderson, commenting that it shows ‘great discredit on the police I fear’, but there was uncertainty about what action should be taken: ‘No doubt they would say we should have had our man had it not been for the treachery of one of the detectives, and that is true. But whether that is a ground for the Government taking up the case is very doubtful.’15