Michael McDonald, a clerk, introduced himself as the League’s assistant secretary since January 1921. He said that the red ticket found on the deceased’s body was a ticket given to him at the dance on 2 April. Fovarque was not seen dancing that evening, but he agreed that he had been seen in the hall. McDonald did not know him by the name of Stanton.
Detective Inspector Smith, who had been investigating the case, had failed to find any evidence against the killer/s and so the jury could only offer the verdict of ‘Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown’.
Kelvedon Road, 2008. Author’s collection
It would seem that Fovarque was taken by the men he was last seen with to Ashford golf course late on the Saturday night, where no one could witness their shooting him. They believed that he had betrayed them, or was planning to do so. However, according to Higgins, Fovarque was not a member of the League. Presumably he was looking for secrets he could sell or pass on. With him having at least one alias, it would appear that he was living a shadowy and dangerous existence, as his ending proved. On another footing, perhaps his murder was the inspiration for Agatha Christie’s second Poirot novel, Murder on the Links, in which a dead man, who has also been shot, is found on a golf course.
This was not the last of the IRA attacks in London. There was a wider campaign on the weekend of 14–15 May that year. Then there were attacks; both shooting individuals and burning property, in Catford, Shepherd’s Bush, Blackheath, Tooting, Battersea and West Kensington. Some planning had gone into these attacks, for they were far from random. They were targeted at those who had relatives serving in Ireland.
At about a quarter to ten on Saturday 14 May, a gang of five masked men arrived at an address in Stowe Road, asking for a Mr Birthright, who had once been in the Royal Irish Constabulary. The man was not at home, but the men produced what was purported to be a warrant for his arrest, and then tried to set fire to the house with paraffin brought for that purpose. The flames were quickly extinguished and when calls for the police were made, the men ran away.
Their next port of call was to have deadlier results. Horace Macneil, aged 47, a railway engineer’s foreman, lived with his wife in a house in Bloemfontein Road in Shepherd’s Bush. His house was near to the Uxbridge Road, with its busy tram and omnibus routes. He was reasonably well off, and his will left £174 4s 10d to his widow. The pair were about to go to bed when there was a knock at the door. It was about 10 pm. Macneil answered it and saw four men on his doorstep. They were all fairly well dressed but, most sinisterly, wore masks or goggles to conceal their faces. He asked them what it was they wanted. They told him they wished to see one Mr Cornes. This was Macneil’s son-in-law, who had served in Ireland for a few months, and was currently in the motor transport section of the Royal Irish Constabulary. The householder explained that Cornes did not live there.
Bloemfontein Road, 2008. Author’s collection
The men asked him where Cornes lived and, as the question was asked, two of the four edged into the house and into the hall. Macneil tried to close the front door but was unable to do so. Macneil later told the police:
I went to the door and saw four men. I told them they had made a mistake, but one of them said, ‘I am sure we have not made a mistake. I am going to shoot’. Another of them then said, ‘Shoot low’. I cannot describe any of them.
Macneil gave another version of his statement:
Someone said ‘Is – here?’ My wife said, ‘You have made a mistake. Go round to – (another address)’. I tried to push them out of the door and one said, ‘I’ll shoot’. The other man said ‘No’ and one man said, ‘Shoot low’. I saw four men altogether. The one that fired was about 30 and 5 foot 8 inches. I think he was clean shaven, dark, dark clothes and a soft felt hat. I thought it was a drunken affair, nothing like this.
Macneil fell backwards once shot and was caught in his wife’s arms. The gang’s leader was referred to as ‘captain’. He and his men all seemed to be Irish, judging by their accents.
What was indisputable was that Macneil was shot in the abdomen. The four intruders then ran in the direction of the Uxbridge Road. They left behind them two revolvers and two bottles of petrol. At least one neighbour saw the gang members, but could not describe them, except to say that they wore dark clothing and were all young men. Mrs Macneil then went to her husband’s help. The wounded man was taken to the West London Hospital. He was operated on at once for perforation of the bowels. After the bullet had been located, there were hopes he would recover. However, he died on the morning of Wednesday 18 May of bronchial pneumonia, following the injury.
After the attack at the Macneils, the gang visited an address in Fairholme Road, West Kensington. As before, they asked for the householder, one Captain Wood, who was absent, serving in Ireland. They pushed their way into the house and searched it. Before leaving they tried to set it on fire, but with little effect. The men’s leader had an Irish accent.
Enquiries into his murder began three days later, but were hampered by the lack of information because people were frightened to come forward. It was noted, ‘it is very difficult to get evidence. People seem to be terrorised, and are afraid of assassins entering their homes and shooting them. It is quite a natural fear.’ At the inquest, which began at Hammersmith on 21 May, the coroner urged the press to use the utmost discretion in printing details of names and addresses of witnesses. Other precautions were taken. Police guarded the entrance to the court and none were allowed inside without a permit.
Mrs Macneil was the principal witness and she said that her husband had no connection with Irish politics, nor had he written any letters to anyone in Ireland. She had written to her son-in-law there. She knew of no one who had a grudge against her husband, who was not a quarrelsome man. She recollected that two of the intruders were aged 20–23, respectably dressed, with dark blue suits and black velvour hats. They wore big goggles and smeared glasses, so she could not see any of their faces. One was fair haired and had a long face. Each man had a revolver, with the barrels protruding from their pockets, and carried brown paper parcels.
Another witness recalled hearing a sound like an explosion and then seeing three men leaving the house. They were running too quickly for him to be able to recognize them. Two of the men had brown parcels in their left hands, but nothing in their right hands. Macneil’s earlier statements were read out in court. The gang split up; some ran down Rainsbury Road and others Ellerslie Road. They may have fled to a waiting motor car, though in their flight they left behind an American Colt revolver and an army issue revolver. There were five cartridges in one and four in another, so presumably a total of three bullets were fired in the brief encounter. It was thought that the latter gun fired the fatal shot. These two guns were handed in by an unknown person.
There was much sympathy for the Macneils, as shown at the funeral on 23 May. The cortege began at the family home, held by two mounted policemen, followed by Macneil’s colleagues, totalling some hundreds of railway workers, then there were three carriages for the family. Hundreds of onlookers manned the funeral route. Many wreaths from different people and organizations were placed on the grave. Macneil had been well known in the locality for many years, having served his engineering apprenticeship at Thorneycroft’s Works in Chiswick. His life had been cruelly cut short through no fault of his own.
And that was that. Nothing more was discovered of these crimes and the perpetrators were never brought to justice. It was noted in the following year, in a review of London crimes of 1921, ‘It will be seen that the only two unsolved cases in the metropolitan area were political in origin, and there is no class of crime more difficult to track down, because there is no strong line leading to any one individual.’ The police did take action, raiding the headquarters of the Irish Self Determination League in Shaftesbury Avenue, finding papers there, some written in Erse and some in code. Twelve men and four women were arrested in London. It was believed that the gunmen were from Ir
eland and that they were helped in London by female sympathizers. There were a number of well organized and well funded Sinn Fein organizations in the capital and their aim was to threaten relatives of members of the armed forces, to whom the police offered protection. This type of crime did claim another victim, a high-profile one, too, when General Sir Henry Wilson was shot dead in front of his London home in June 1921. His attackers were apprehended and nearly lynched. With the emergence of the Irish Free State later that year, these crimes came to an end, having achieved little of merit.
CHAPTER 6
Murder in Shoreditch? 1923
She was a good woman and did not deserve it.
In August 1923, Edith Emms, a 37-year-old waitress, was facing a life-changing dilemma. She wondered whether she should return to her estranged husband. She explained this to Thomas Allan, a regular at Gillman’s cafe on Lamb Conduit Street, in which she worked. ‘I have heard from my husband Jack, he’s coming home. I don’t know what I am going to do, whether to go back with him or not.’
Although the couple had a son, John, aged 17 who was an invalid, resident in Folkestone, she was not necessarily better off living with her husband. John Emms was born in about 1882 and his stated occupation was as a driver. They had married in 1905 and separated seven years later. Shortly afterwards, he went to Australia in order to better himself. Yet he fell into crime there and was sent to prison in Melbourne for burglary in 1914. Four years later he was in jail again, this time for four years, for theft and for receiving stolen goods. He was released in 1922 and returned to his mother’s house in Bethnal Green in the summer of the following year. When he was in Australia, he had corresponded with his wife, but they had ceased to communicate with each other in 1920.
Yet he now seemed a more attractive proposition. He had at least £400 with him, very possibly made by illegal means. Furthermore, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. He appeared to Edith to be a different man and he promised to treat her differently. They would buy a business together and start anew. Edith was also given a neck chain and jewellery. The two began to live together; perhaps a fatal decision.
They opened a small restaurant/coffee house at Hackney Road in Shoreditch on 28 September 1923, having paid £250 for it. Elizabeth Hitch, a 28-year-old kitchen maid, was employed at £1 per week. They also had two paying lodgers, both single men. These were Arthur Casseltine, a 27-year-old music hall attendant at the Poplar Hippodrome, and Arthur Fowler, a 30-year-old tailor’s assistant who worked in Hackney Road. Between them, they paid 35s a week in rent.
Hackney Road, 2008. Author’s collection
Relations between the recently reunited husband and wife were poor. Elizabeth recalled, ‘I have seen Mr Emms slap Mrs Emms on her face in his temper.’ On another occasion, when her mistress had a black eye, Edith explained:
Jack done it, you don’t know what I have to put up with. I was sitting in the armchair last night, he smacked my face, and then threw the record at me, which hit me in the face, he burnt my fur, and he made me pawn all my jewellery. I am sorry I ever came back to live with him.
She was certainly frightened, and said that if there was no one else in the house:
I shall be left alone with him by myself, and I am dead frightened of him, he often frightens me, if I am asleep when he comes home at night, he creeps upstairs and stands in the room with his big brown eyes, staring at me, also puts his hands at the side of his head. Don’t be surprised Lylie, if you come home one morning and find me dead, I am so frightened of him.
Additionally, on 20 November, Allan stated that Edith had a black eye and ‘appeared in great distress’. Finally, Elizabeth Mockett was told by her, ‘That’s where he hit me. He is always knocking me about.’
The fact that the business was running into problems made matters worse. They were falling behind in the payment of rates and taxes, and Elizabeth had to be fired from her job. Edith wrote to her friend Allan (who stated, ‘There has never been any immorality between Edith and myself, neither has there been any suggestion of same’). The postcard read, ‘Dear Mr Allan, Could you meet me Saturday night at 8 o’clock the corner of Red Lion Street, Holborn end’. It is not certain if they met nor what the outcome was, if they did. However, on 18 November the business was sold, at a loss, for £200, to one Mr Dodd.
Matters came to a head on 22 November. Casseltine had left at 9.15 am and was on duty at the music hall, 5.20–11.20 pm. Fowler left the house five minutes earlier than Casseltine and was at work until 1 pm, when he returned to his lodgings for something to eat. From 6 to 11.15 pm he was out at the Vaudeville Theatre. Both did not return home until almost midnight. They were making their supper when their landlord appeared and made a joke about them using so much milk in their drinks that it was no wonder the business had not done well.
Minutes later, at about midnight, Emms went up to the bedroom and found his wife lying on the floor of the bedroom, dead. He later explained, ‘I saw my wife lying on the floor with her feet partly under the bed, with only her chemise and night dress on. I endeavoured to arouse her but failed, so I shouted downstairs to the lodgers to go for a policeman.’ When the police arrived, Mr Emms told them that there had been a burglary and his wife had probably died from the fright. Certainly this was not impossible, for the large room in which she was found was in a state of disarray – clothes were strewn in the floor, the cupboards had been ransacked and a chair was overturned – and the gate at the back of the premises had been smashed in. Apparently, ‘The shop and side door showed no signs of forceable entry, but a door, leading from Barnes Road at a yard at the rear of the premises, showed signs of being forced.’ Money was apparently missing, though a few copper coins were found on the floor. Emms said that there was a cup in the fireplace which usually had £5 in it, the cash box in the wardrobe was empty and there was no money in his wife’s apron for the shop’s takings, which were usually about £2 per day.
Dr Robert Bronte carried out the post mortem. At first he would not commit himself to stating the cause of death. Privately, he stated ‘death may have been caused by shock or a fright, or by a blow on the abdomen, which might cause the heart to cease beating’. The contents of the stomach were sent to the government analyst for further investigation.
The inquest began on 27 November at Bethnal Green by Dr Edwin Smith, coroner for North East London. Matilda Hatch of Warwick Road, Forest Gate, and mother of the deceased, gave formal evidence of identification. She had last seen her daughter on 14 November and said that she seemed well, but had complained that she was ‘going mad with worry’. With that, the inquest was adjourned until 8 December.
Then, Mrs Hatch elaborated on the nature of her daughter’s worries, which concerned the business and the possibility that she might split up from her husband. They had quarrelled, her husband had thrown a bad egg at her face, and there was a bruise on her face. Yet Mrs Hatch had to state that she had never heard Emms threaten her daughter. Even so, Emms had taken the precaution of having a solicitor present.
Edith’s movements on the fatal evening were recounted. Mary Emms, her husband’s mother, called at 5.30 pm and thought her daughter-in-law was depressed over business matters and was prey to other fears. Apparently Edith said, ‘I often feel I could take a dose and get myself out of it’. William Learner and his wife spent the rest of the evening with Edith, only leaving her at a quarter to eleven. They thought Edith was ‘apparently in her usual health’, a rather ambiguous remark. Yet Elizabeth Learner reported that she remarked, ‘If I had the pluck I would put my head in the gas oven.’ They left at either 10.25 or 10.45, accounts varying.
Medical matters then surfaced. Dr J O’Dwyer stated that a microscopic examination showed that there was no evidence of physical violence on the body. It was true that she was not in perfect health, and there was fatty degeneration of the heart muscles. These could lead to early death. However, he could not discover the cause of death. It might have been fright or shock. If she had r
eceived a blow to the abdomen, death might have resulted if the heart had stopped beating. John Webster, the government analyst from the Home Office, said that he had analysed the stomach content and had found no evidence of poison. The police report said that ‘There were no marks on the body and he [Dr O’Dwyer] was of the opinion that there was no sign of foul play.’
Evidence was gathered from two other witnesses. Fowler recalled seeing the corpse in the room on the night of the murder and recalled, ‘She was a good woman and did not deserve it.’ When questioned as to what he meant by this remark, he explained that he thought that her sudden death had been caused by burglars who had broken in. A different interpretation was suggested by Elizabeth Hitch, who had been once employed as a housemaid by the Emms. She said that she had seen Mrs Emms being hit twice by her husband and that she was in fear of him.
Emms then gave his version of events on the fateful day. He had been absent from home that evening, only returning at midnight. Unpleasant as he was, it seems unlikely that he had the opportunity to murder his wife, as his movements were accounted for by others.
At 3.50 pm he had left home and went to Covent Garden and Piccadilly. It was here that he met Peggy Lee, a prostitute, and they went back to her flat on Baker Street. She alleged he stole from her and would not pay her ‘for the use of her body’, though Emms claimed that she stole from him. Before he left, he asked Flossie Athos, Peggy’s maid, for sex, offering two shillings, but she refused. At 7.30 pm, he was in the Crown and Anchor, Bethnal Green. Fifteen minutes later, he visited his brother William and the two went back to the pub, where they spent the rest of the evening. They then went to an eel shop on Bethnal Green Road, and Emms returned home just before midnight. En route, he met a policeman, PC James Cornwell, on Virginia Road, and asked for directions (presumably he was a little drunk).
Unsolved London Murders Page 5