Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)

by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

  MR. CLERK. Q. Had there been an attempt to cut the throat of the boy that was lying on the stairs? A. Yes.

  COURT. Q. That was the wound on the throat you have described? A. Yes, the superficial cut — that led me to suppose that there had been an attempt to cut the throat; the mark was very defined all round the throat — I did not distinguish much difference as to size and bulk between Mrs. Youngman and Mary Streeter; the elder woman was the fatter of the two I think — there was no appearance whatever of any struggle on the part of Mary Streeter.

  MARY ANN WOOTTON. I am in the service of Dr. Duncan, of Henriettastreet, Covent-garden — I know the prisoner; he was there a week before me — he left on 16th July last — he had been in Dr. Duncan’s service three months, I believe; during that time I have seen him writing frequently — he used to write letters and poetry — the date of the letter I am looking at is the 21st June; I believe it is the prisoner’s handwriting — this one of 18th Juue is his writing, and this of the 21st — I believe this letter of 13th July is in his handwriting; also these two on 16th, and this one of the 19th — to the best of my belief this one without a date is in his haudwriting — this letter of 21st is his, and also the one of the 28th.

  JAMES ANDREW DUNCAN. I am a physician, residing at Henrietta-street, Covent-garden — the prisoner was in my service as a footman; he came to me on 18th April last, and quitted on 16 th July — I was in the habit of seeing him frequently; it was the greater part of his duty to wait on me.

  Cross-examined. Q. Have you had any experience in cases of cancer? A. Yes: cancer in the womb is a most painful disease; it generally makes a patient very irritable — I should not set down delirium as one of its symptoms; it may come up as an accidental symptom — if there has been mania in a family and a disease is acting upon a person, it would be more likely to bring it on — I know a mania, described as homicidal mania, especially among women — one of the great features of that mania, is, that persons afflicted by it, most frequently attack those to whom they have the greatest affection — it generally occurs after confinement, where the mother, although she has the greatest affection for her child, cannot resist destroying it — I have read Dr. Taylor’s work on homicidal mania — I agree with him when he says that individuals are liable to be seized by a sudden impulse, when they will destroy persons to whom they are most strongly attached; but it is impossible to define what madness is; that is to say a person may have reason and know the wickedness of what he is going to commit, but yet be unable to resist the animal part of the functions, of the brain.

  MR. CLERE. Q. Does cancer in the womb, where it exists, produce emaciation of the body? A. Yes; that is how the patient dies, from being completely worn out.

  COURT. Q. Supposing a person not to be emaciated, does that indicate anything with respect to the state of the disease? A. That would show it was merely beginning, not advanced; that the disease had made but little progress — it might or it might not be attended with pain, then it would not necessarily follow the patient would be made more irritable — in my judgment if the disease had not got so far as to emaciate the patient, I don’t think the pain would be such as to bring on delirium — the patient might, possibly have taken opium as a remedy for it, which would perhaps cause it.

  EDWARD SPICE. I keep the Green Dragon public-house, Bermondsey-street, in the Borough — I knew the deceased Mary Streeter — on Monday, 23d July last, she came to my house on a visit; she came with the prisoner — she came in the afternoon and stayed there all night — on the next day, the 20th, the prisoner came, as near as I can recollect, about half-past 6 in the morning — Mary Streeter stayed four days at my house on a visit — she was an old friend of mine; I and her father Were brought up together — after partaking of breakfast on that morning, they went away together and returned again about 9 o’clock in the evening — he came down at half-past 5 the next morning — it rained on that day, and they stopped till 9 o’clock — on Thursday morning I called her out at 5 o’clock, and the prisoner came in about five minutes past 5 — I had some conversation with him about the girl — I spoke to her first in the tap-room — I saw what I did not like in the man, and said to her in his presence, “Mary, I would sooner see you take a rope and hang yourself in the skittle ground, than marry a man like that” — I said to the prisoner, “What means have you got to support my girl? “I called her my girl — he said, “I am independent” — I said, “What is your independency, was it left by a legacy? have you got anything to show me, any paper?” — his reply was, “In houses” — I then asked him if they were in the country or London? “Various places in London — he said — I said, “Well, you must be a rich man,” and said to deceased, “Now, Mary, take my advice, give him a total denial, have no more to do with him; go and seat yourself in my bar parlour, and I will take you home safe to your father” — the prisoner made no remark on that — he said he intended to take her either to Hastings or Brighton; I think it was Hastings he said.

  Cross-examined. Q. He did not say to reside there? A. He said he was going to take lodgings there to keep her independent — I said, You must have a good income to support a young woman like this” — he said, he was a retired tailor — I did not know anything about his being a valet.

  SAMUEL WELLS STREETER. I am a farmer in Essex — the deceased young woman was my daughter — the prisoner came to my house on Sunday, 8th July last, and stayed there one night; I had never seen him before — my daughter had never mentioned to me that he was paying his addresses to her — the prisoner had not mentioned it to me — when Inspector Dann came down to my house I gave him some letters that were locked up in my daughter’s writing-desk.

  Cross-examined. Q. I believe you had the misfortune to lose another of your daughters some time before? A. Yes; in May last — she was not married, she died of consumption — this girl had not been subject to any disease of the chest or anything of that kind.

  THOMAS TANNER. I am clerk in the office of the Argus Insurance Company — on 19th July last I saw the prisoner at that office (he had had a form previously) — he brought a form of application with him; I have it here (produced) — this is one of the forms issued by our office; the name of William Godfrey Youngman was signed in my presence by the prisoner — he wrote the answer to question No. 18, it is “William Godfrey Youngman, 16, Manor Place, Newington, London, retired from the business of a tailor” — that is written opposite the question “Name and place of residence” — before he signed it I asked him what he was — he said he was no trade — he came again on the following day, the 24th, accompanied by a young woman — she was examined by the medical officer, and a policy on her life was prepared — that is the policy (produced) — there is no attesting witness; that is the policy that was effected on that day — the premium was paid on 25th, 10s. 1d. for three months — the premiums are according to the wish of the parties; if they wish they can pay quarterly or half-yearly — in this case the prisoner expressed a wish to pay quarterly — I gave a receipt for the premium; I have it here, this is the first receipt — I believe the young woman paid the money.

  (The following letters from the prisoner to the deceased were read; the first was dated 18th June, from Henrietta-street, Covent-garden; it contained some allusions to his long silence, and expressed a desire to renew his former intimacy with the deceased; the second was dated 21st June, acknowledging a reply to his first letter, and expressing a wish to see her when she came to town. Editor’s note: Spelling errors in these letters are italicized.)

  “8, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, July 13th, 1860.

  “My dearest Mary. — This comes with my kindest love to you, trusting you are well and happy; myself I am pretty well in health. Now, come to London, dear girl, on Monday next, the 23d, and stay till Mrs. Walker leaves her situation, then go back home again and come up again on Friday morning, 10th August, and I will come on 10th Augnst to meet you, and shall stay at the lodgings I shall take for you and myself. I shall enga
ge furnished lodgings for a week only, when I shall be able to settle all things and go down to your father and stay with him a day or two. You can lodge somewhere on the Friday you come up, and I, at our lodgings, so be ready for Saturday morning, when we will be married at St. Martin’s, Charing Cross, on Saturday, August 11th next; I have published the banns of our marriage, last Wednesday, and it will be asked in church on Sunday next, and Sunday, 29th, for the third time. I gave warning to leave on Wednesday hist, 11th, can leave on 10th ef next mouth having a day’s wages less; now you will have quite money enough, my dear, till after we are married, when I shall have plenty, but not till then; but you need only wear your black clothes, my dear girl, at our wedding. I shall only wear black things and have no white gloves at all dearest; our coachman will stand as father for you, and I shall not require a bridesmaid unless you like, if so, our housemaid will come if she can, and we will go after we are married to Kew Gardens or somewhere, and breakfast before we are married, by ourselves. I think I want to assure your life when you come up on Monday week; it will be settled in the time you are here, two or three days; bring all your things when you come on 10th August; say to your mother you are going to stay with my Mends a fortnight and then look for a situation in the time. After we are married you can have all you wish for, so you will have enough money for the present time, as you do not want to boy anything; all the clothes you have will do for the present, till we are married, and on Wednesday, after we are man and wife for life, I shall take money enough to supply all your wants and wishes, so rest happy till then, my dearest girl. I will expect to see youthen in London on Monday week, to assure your life and buy you the wedding-ring to give you to keep till the day 1 put it on your finger; the 11th August next must be the day, I cannot wait another day longer than that my dearest girl Buy nothing except you want it very much indeed, as I will buy you all you want the Wednesday after we are married on a certainty, but at the same time remember all I have told you. I am now awaiting to hear from you again; say you will do as I write by return of post — I am, dearest Mary, your ever affectionate lover, W. G. YOUNGMAN. — Kind respects to all friends, remember, do not forget what I have said; be careful keep all your letters looked up, so your mother and no one can see them, and bring them when you come here.”

  “8, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, July 16th, 1860. “My beloved Polly. — I received your kind and most welcome letter this morning, and was glad to hear you were enjoying good health, myself I am pretty well in health, bnt am anxious to see you again; indeed I long for the 23d, Monday, to come to see you. I suppose you will stay as you said before with Mrs. Walker, at Gloucester-terrace, till she leaves, which you said would be on 26th of this month, that would be on Thursday week, so you could stay three or four days there, and I shall be, of course, there with you once a day at least, I have made up my mind to get away from here this week, so I shall be with you next week when you come. Since I gave notice to leave here last Wednesday, our people have spoken to me in such a manner that has not suited me, and I am certain to give Mrs. Duncan a good talking to next time she goes on at me again, when I hope the Doctor will tell me to go at once, has then that is what I want, when I shall be paid my wages the same up to 11th August, when I shall go to my brother’s and be able to do many things I want to do before we are married, dearest girl. I know I shall have a job to get a holiday when I want it if I stay here longer than this week, so I am in hopes of getting off from here this week, to-day; tonight I want Mrs. Duncan or the Doctor to talk to me, then I shall he ready to talk to them, and so be sent off. You understand, I am a little sharp in this. Now, my dearest Polly, I have a form to be filled up to take to the Life Assurance Company’s office, that his, to answer all the written questions as asked on the printed forms, which is necessary should be done first. I know your name and address, but your occupation, I shall say you have (none) — you understand? But I want to know your place of birth, and date, and your certificate of birth is required to be taken to the office, just to let them see your right age; then, of course, I shall say single, and a spinster; then I want to know your father’s and mother’s ages, and also to know if you have ever been abroad; if so, where, and for what period of time; also, have you had the small-pox, or have you been vaccinated; have you ever had the gout, or spitting of blood, asthma, rupture, convulsions, fits of insanity, vertigo, habitual cough, disease of the lungs, complaint of the liver, or any other disease which tends to the shortening of life; let me know this, but I can say what I like, or you like, has any of these complaints, of corse, would be against your having your life assured. Then it’s asked, has any member of the family died of consumption; I think you said your sister died of that dreadful complaint; but I must say no to that answer. Then they want to know the name and residence of your medical attendant; you could say you had none, to that question; but the name and residence of an intimate friend is required to be referred to for general information, that is to say, they must have some one who knows you to write to, to ask they how long they have known you and your family, and are they healthy, and his your health been good, and his it so now, and to ask if any member of the family have died of any bad disorder, such as I have said; and you must tell the friend, whoever you get to do this for you, to make it out in the best manner he or she can, has you will also do; and let them say they are not a near relation, only a friend, if ever you are. You understand that, dearest girl, has all must be done in the best possible manner to have them assure your life, has they would not take you if they thought you were unhealthy, or any of your family had died of anything bad, or where any of them unhealthy, that would be, of corse, against it, so, when they write to your friend, let them give a good letter to them — he sure and manage that with them, and to answer the letter they send by return of post; so, when you come up on Monday next, all you will have to do will be to go with me to the Assurance Office, near the Bank of England, city, and see the, medical man there, then I can give you the money to pay the first premium upon your life, which will not be a large sum to assure 100l. in case you should die any death, which sum would be of use to your children or me, in that case, dearest girl; but it his a very good thing to do, and the duty of every mother, or wife, or father to assure their lives, if they can but spare a little to pay every quarter; see what distress often arises from friends not leaving any thing to their relations or dear friends when they die! You know the benefit of all this, therefore you will, of corse, just send me the information I require of you, that I may take and fill up the form to take to the office, so they can write to your friend has I tell you. Write has soon has you can, I am anxious to get on with it before you come next Monday to London. Now, I am, with love ever to you, your loving, affectiouate, WILLIAM GODFREY YOUNGMAN. — My kindest remembrance to your friends, and quick answer I hope to have, my most beloved girl; I am indeed anxious to get all these things settled, and look forward for the happy day when you will be mine for life. Adieu, dearest.”

  “16, Manor-place, Newington, London, S.

  “My most beloved Mary. — I received your affectionate note this morning, but I must say I am very much hurt to find you state in your note that you do not wish to have your life assured; why, my dearest girl, why do you alter your mind? I have been to the office, have told them to write to your friend, Mrs. James Bone, for the information they require, they did so yesterday, and expect her to send them answer by return of post; and I told them you would come with me on Monday for the policy, so let Mrs. James Bone write to them has they wish, and that you will go with me and assure your life on Monday next has you said you would before. Why can you go from your word? You will never lose anything by assuring your life; will not die any sooner, my dear girl And as regards your father and mother not liken you to do so, you can do has you like without them preventing. Now, say no more to them about it, but come and do has I wish you to do. I shall, indeed, never forgive you if you do not, has I, wish you to do so for a particular purpose,
which I will tell you of. I will always pay for it, of corse, and you will never lose anything by it. I intend to get a house for you and myself near or in Brighton next week, as it will, of corse, be foolish for me to go there without you can go with me, even after you have assured your life; but if you will not do this, and will rather mind what your friends say to you about assuring your life, why I cannot think you would love me has I wish you would. You will never find any one to love you so again, and would you break my heart aud not do has I wish you in this little thing? Why do you not do has you said? Can you cease to love me? Will you now refuse to do this which is for the good of those you leave behind when you should DIE? Surely, my dearest girl, you will still love me and do this, or how can I think you do love me if you refuse? no, I cannot believe you love me. Now, my dearest girl, I have nearly settled the assurance, I have left my situation, I have look for a house for us to live in, and with your consent I have published the bans of our marriage, and you have consented to be mine next Monday week. Now, can you break my heart and act like-this? do has I tell you, dearest girl, and I will do anything you wish to be done, only do has you have agreed to do, let me assure your life on Monday next, and be mine own dear wife the following Monday has you promised me in your letter, and every thing you wish for shall be yours. I shall have money enough to supply more than our wants. Next Wednesday or Thursday come and be mine, and we will have all this settled, and we will go down and see all your friends in a few days after things are Bettled. I want you to go to Brighton to get a house, where I wish to live with you, my dearest Polly. Do you love me still 1 if so, do as I wish and keep your promise; be sure and bring the certificate of your birth with you on Monday, and let Mrs. James Bone answer the letter to the Assurance Company to-day, if she has not done so yesterday, so they will get answer on Monday morning before you and I go there. They will not keep you a moment, ray dear girl, only be mine and do this and be happy. You cannot do wrong in this, you will never have cause to regret; pray do has I wish, come and do this on Monday; come, come to me, and be mine, you will never want for a thing while you live, believe me. I cannot but be hurt, hurt, indeed, if you do not comply with my request; do make me happy, do this, it will be all for your good. Write again so I can have a letter on Monday before you come up. Oh, my dearest girl, I know you will not break my heart, I that love you more than life; be mine and never will you want for anything, I swear; but say not a word to your friends till we are married, then they shall be made glad, and we will have a jolly day near home; they will not be sorry for your having me, one that make a lady of you soon, and make you happy for life; one who loves you more thau his life, and can you not do has he wished you to do I say yes, dearest Mary. — I am,-with love to you, hoping you are well and happy, your ever affectionate lover, and ever more I am your best Friend, believe me; but I am hurt, pray heal me, say you will do has I wish, my dearest girl, I am your dearest W. G. YOUNGMAN.”