ONE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 86, 24 January 1885, Page 5

ONE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.

Nature has not been pleased to bestow upon me any special gifts, and I cannot call myself a clever man. But I have been brought up in a good school ; and whatever natural shrewdness I may have has, so to speak, had a keen edge put on it in an experience of many years as a detective officer. If there is one thing more than another upon which I pride myself, it is that of discriminating character, and being able to at once detect whether a person charged with an offence is innocent or guilty. How far this pet theory of mine is borne out by fact, the following story will show :— • Some years ago, in the month of December, I waa strolling in the neighbourhood of Scotland Yard, when I noticed that I was followed by a short thick-set man, of very peculiar appearance. He looked about three and four and twenty, and was very shabbily dressed in clothes which evidently had never been made for him. Each of the garments had a stamp of having belonged to people in different walks of life. The old cord trousers, much too large, were those of a working man ; the vest, which had been of a bright scarlet, was that of a groom or coachman ; while the surtout, patched and out at the elbows as it was, had the unmistakable cut of a West End tailor. It struck me that we were old acquaintance 0 , for hia was a face once seen not easily forgotten. He was very ugly, but had not what one Would call a "bad face." The greatest peculiarity about him was the eyes, which were of a dark hazel and very small, with an extraordinary obliqueness of vision that made it impossible to tell whether he was looking you in the face or not. His head was covered by an old seal-skin cap, under which was a profusion ot coarse hair of a golden red ; whilst his face was ornamented with a luxuriant crop of whiskers of the same fiery hue. All this I noticed as he twice passed— each time looking as if about to address me. As he passed the second time, I turned on my heel and followed, and, quickly overtaking him, said, 44 Well, my man, you appear to know me?" "Yes, Mr Sharpe," he replied, "I know you very well, though, I dare say, you have forgotten me. My name is Charlie Fox ; and you've had me before the beak more than once when I was a young 'un." ••Why," I said, "you are the young rascal that belonged to the Westminster gang, and used to give us all so much trouble." 11 Yes, guvn or ; but since my mother died, which is a good many years now, I've been trying to keep on the square. I've been to sea, and been working about the docks, or wherever I could get a job. Lately I ain't had anything to do, and I'm almost starving. I knew you directly I saw you ; and I've been a-following you, thinking you might give me something to get some grub. It's hard work, guvnor, to keep straight after you've once gone wrong, 'specially when you're hungry, and a lot of pals a-tempting you." As I listened, I thought his story might be true. I remembered him as a young thiel, with a bad mother, but that was years ago ; and I knew, if ho had been knocking about London, and up to his old games, I must have heard or seen something of him. ."Look here, Fox," I said, "you may be telling me a lie or you may not ; but, if you are hungry, I will give you a meal." I took him to the nearest public house, and gave him some cold meat and bread, and a pint of beer ; and his appetite certainly confirmed one part of his tale. When he had finished his dinner, he said, "Now, Mr Sharpe, you've done me a turn which I shan't soon forget, and I'll do you one in return, by putting you up to a good thing. You know all about the murder of the woman at Glasgow, and I can tell you where to lay hands on the cove that did it. There's a hundred pounds reward ; and I suppose, if I plant you on him, you'll give me half ?" I knew of the murder. It was one of peculiar atrocity, committed about a month before, in Glasgow, upon a poor girl, an unfortunate. Hitherto the police had been at fault, and the Home Secretary had offered a reward of one hundred pounds. At first it struck me as improbable that Fox could know anything about it ; but he further told me that he was lodging down at the East End, near to one of the docks ; and the murderer, a sailor, who had been a shipmate, was lodging in the same house, and had confessed the crime to him. Still, I could not see a motive for Fox betraying his friend, and I said, " You are no doubt very clever, Mr Fox ; but you must not try to make me believe that because I have given you something to eat and drink, you are willing to round on a pal." His reply did more to convince me than anything else. " You forget, Mr Sharpe, the half of the reward, which will take me out of the country, and give me a fresh start; but, besides that, I owe the man a grudge, and if I live I'll pay him." I told him he could soon prove whether his information was true by showing me the house and the man, I would take a couple of officers with me, and arrest him at once. To this, however, Fox would not listen. He said the neighbourhood was a very bad one, the man a most desperate character, and surrounded by friends, and there would be but little chance of taking him there. His idea was to entice him West, and take him when off his guard. Even then Fox warned me that there would be considerable ri&k, as the murderer carried with him the knife with w hich he had committed the crime, and threatened to use it on anyone that attempted to take him. After further conversation, it was arranged that Fox should meet me that night, and in the meantime 1 should think upon some scheme. My plan was soon matured. It was this: —I got an order for one of the West End theatres for the following night. Fox was to invite the man to accompany him, but, before entering the theatre, was to take him into a public house, and then, when her was drinking hi* glass, we would take him. Punctually at the time appointed lox met me. I gave him tho order for the \ theatre, and explained what I wished him to do in the matter, at the same time giving him a few shillings for his expenses. I must confess I waited for the following evening with considerable anxiety. The case was a most important one, and, if I could carry it to a successful issue, would add considerably to my reputation. I chose two officers to accompany me, upon whom I could depend, both of them experienced and powerful mon. Seven o'clock was the time named ; but, to guard against mistake, we were in the Strand half an hour earlier, the three of us, o course, being in plain clothes. Seven o'clock arrived — half-past seven, eight o'clock— but no appearance of our men ; and at half -past eight we gave it up in disgust. For once 1 felt assured I had been thoroughly sold.

Next morning, however, I found at the station a badly-written scrawl from Fox, saying that the man had got so drunk the nightbefore that he could do nothing with him, and that he (Fox) would meet me at twelve o'clock, at the house where I had given him his dinner ; and if I could give him another order for the theatre, he felt sure of bringing the murderer up that night. I met Fox, gave him the order, and arranged to be on the look-out at seven o'clock." This time fortune favoured us. We had not waited many minutes when 1 saw Fox coming along the Strand, in company with a tall man, in a rough peajacket. He stopped to look at a shop window, and as I passed I noticed that the tall man had the cut of a sailor. He was broad-shouldered, deep-chested, and long in the arm, and evidently would be an awkward customer to contend with. They walked on for about one hundred yards, and then turned int© the bar of a public-house. In half a minute my colleagues and I followed, and asked for something to drink. We five were the only people in the bar, and the barmaid was just serving Fox and his friend with two glasses of ale. At the back of where the tall man stood was a small gas-burner, and my two brother officers went behind him, as if to light their pipes. The moment that he lifted his glass to his lips I sprang upon him, and my assistants, at the same instant, seized him from behind. Quick as we were, he managed to wrench his left.varm away, and, striking straight out from the shoulder, sent me sprawling on the floor. My two men were, however, too much for him, and by the time I regained my feet had the handcuffs on him. When I looked closer at our prisoner, I confess I was a little bit staggered. He scowled at us fiercely enough, but he had a fine handsome face, and certainly had not the look of one who would commit so dastardly a crime as that for which we had just arrested him. " Well, mate?," he said, " this is rather rough work. What do you want with me?'' " We want you," I replied, "for a murder committed in Scotland." "Murder! I never hurt anybody in my life." I told him that would have to be proved, md in the meantime he would have to c© with us to the police-station. Calling a cab, two of us accompanied our prisoner, the bhird officer being left with Fox, with orders ;o follow us to the station. I stated the charge to the inspector on iuty, and the prisoner was asked his name md address. He gave that of Archibald Srown, of Greenock, and stated that lie was i sailor. On searching him, we found in us possession two sovereigns and some •ilver, and a large clasp-knife, such as is isually worn by seafaring men. I took Fox to a coffee-shop oft Fleetstreet, and arranged with the proprietor to supply him with board and lodging from iay to day. Two men from the force, in plain clothes, were told off to watch him liejht and day, and with orders to arrest lim if he made any attempt to escape. The next morning the prisoner was brought aefore a magistrate. My witness, Fox, would not, I thought, make a very favourable impression in his ordinary costume. [n fact, I was ashamed of him, and purchased at a second-hand shop a suit of ilothes for him. When he had his new rig| out, and his hair cut, he was much more presentable. At the police-court he gave tils evidence in such a straightforward way is to favourably impress the magistrate ivith its truth. The prisoner denied having made any such confession to Fox, and pro:ested his innocence, and asserted that he lad not even heard of the murder. He sither did not know or refused to state ivhere he was at the time : and this, joined so the fact that he was a native of a town iuch a short distance from Glasgow, in some measure confirmed the evidence of Fox. Finally, Brown was remanded for a few iays, to enable us to communicate with the Authorities at Glasgow, and to produce, if possible, further evidence. We immediitely telegraphed to the chief of the police it Glasgow, &tating that we had arrested a man named Brown for the murder of the ivoman, and that the prisoner was remanded from that clay (Thursday) until the following Monday. We received a telegram in reply that they believed we had *ot the right man, and that an officer would 36 sent up to London in time for the adjourned examination. Next morning we lad a letter confirming the telegram. The murder had, it appeared, been quite a mystery to the Glasgow police until the day before the receipt of our message, when a woman had been found who asserted that 3he had seen the deceased on the night of the murder in company with a sailor named Brown, and that she had watched them go into the house together. The letter further stated that an officer would arrive on Sunday night to take charge of the prisoner. In the meantime we kept a sharp watch upon Fox ; but, apparently, there was little occasion for it, as the officer reported that he scarcely ever left the house where he was staying, and showed no desire to do so. He twice called upon me at the station, and expressed great concern lest any of Brown's friends should get hold of him, as he felt sure that his life would not be safe. Our men watched him up to Saturday night, when so convinced had we all become of his good faith that I asked my chief it he thought it was necessary to continue the surveillance. He agreed with me that it was not, and the officers were withdrawn. On Sunday afternoon, I looked in to see Fox, to tell him we should want him at the police-court the next morning at eleven. 1 found him having his tea, and apparently quite at home in the comfortable quarters I had provided. That night I met the Scotch officer at the Great Northern Station, who congratulated me on the successful arrest which I had made. I admitted that I thought there was some credit due to me, as there had been difficulties in the way, and the prisoner being such a tall, powerful man, there had been danger also. His reply took all the breath out of my body ! "Eh, mon, there's some mistake here. The mon we want is a wee chap, nicknamed c Red headed Charlie,' but whose real name is Brown, alias Fox, alias Sinclair, and half a dozen others !" A li^ht broke in upon me in a moment. A few hasty words of explanation to the Scotchman, and as fast as a hansom cab could go we tore down Fleet-street, but arrived too late, for the bird had flown. Fox, the actual murderer, had Ictt tho coffee shop about an hour before, and from that day to this we have never seen nor heard anything of him. I need scarcely say that the prisoner, who was as innocent as I, was set at liberty the next morning.

The death of General England at the age of ninety eight, leaves General Whichcote the only surviving Peninsular officer named in the "Army List." If General England had lived six months longer, he would have been a soldier for eighty years. He" got his first commission in May 1805. His deith makes General Francis F. Whinyatoa the doyen of the Royal Artillery ; that venerable officer was posted to the old Madras Artillery in July, 1813.— illi 11 World."