THE HUMAN TRAGEDY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 213, 29 August 1908, Page 4

THE HUMAN TRAGEDY

TWO HOXKY.MOON,S. (By Ceo. li. Sims.) The night of December Ist, 1882, was not a particularly pleasant to be abroad ill. A fairly thick fog hail settled down early in the evening oil Jjondon, and very few people were loitering about the streets for their pleasure. A little before nine o'clock that evening three young men strolled past a Baptist chapel in Aslnvin Street, Dalston. One of the pleasant evenings of social service was in progress within the building, and at a side-door a young lady who taught in the Sunday school and assisted at the social meetings was looking out into the night to see if the fog had lifted. One of the men, a young fellow of nineteen, being a member of the congregation, and a regular attendant at the services, knew her, and, shaking hands with her, they went into the chapel together. He only remained inside a few minutes, and his companions waited for hiin. When he came ottt, he said to them: "It's all right! I slipped on to the landing and undid the latch of the window." Then they strolled away together and entered a public-house. In the publichouse the young man assigned to his " mates" the parts they were to take in the criminal drama he had arranged, and in which he was to play the lead. As soon as the street was quiet, and the little congregation had dispersed, and the little chapel was locked up for the night, the young man who had "readied" the chapel window would climb in through it and break open the cupboard in which the Sacramental plate was kept. One of his companions was to keep watch outside, and the other was to remain handy, in order to assist in conveying the plate to the house of a man who would buy it and " break it 1 up." Shortly after ten o'clock that night a constable named Cole—a young man who had recently been married,, and was eager to distinguish himself and improve his position, for his young wife's sake —passed the cliapel, which lay on his beat. It was part of his duty to flash his lantern on all shops, private houses, and buildings that were closed, in order to see that windows and doors were shut, and, as far as he could judge, secure. ' There was a low wall in front of the chapel, and at the side of the chapel a recess with a window in it, that opened into the building itself. As Constable Cole flashed his lantern over the front of the chapel something attracted his attention, and that something gave him an idea that all was not right. He saw a man climbing over the wall. The constable seized the climber by tfie collar and dragged him into the roadway, and there a fierce struggle took place. The struggle was witnessed by a young woman, who had come out of a neighbouring ho,use to fetch the supper beer. She saw the man s hat fall off, and the next moment she heard a pistol-shot. She ran off at once in search of help, and stopped the first policeman she met. It happened to be the sergeant The sergeant ran hack with her, only to find his comrade lying senseless on the pavement, with a bullet-wound in his head. That night two of the comrades of Constable Cole had to call upon the ifoung wife and break to her as gently as they could the news of her husband's death in the brave execution of his duty. The police of' London were on their lhettle. The cowardly murder of Constable Cole, and the pathetic circumstances of his death, touched them deeply. They had only a vague description of the assassin. The young woman who saw the struggle described the constable s assailant as quite a young man, with a sallow complexion and a slight moustache. The other " evidence" in the possession of the police was the hat the man had left lying in the roadway in his hurried flight, two chisels which had been picked up in the recess on the outside of the chapel, and two bullets—the one that had been found in tin: dead man's truncheon-case, and the other which had been found lodged m his brain. But the months went oil, and nothing was heard of the man who had left his liat and chisels behind him. No arrest was made, and gradually ill" affair of the Baptist chapel and the murder of l'olice-constable Cole were forgotten. ,ii it failed to induce any of the assassin's criminal acquaintances to come forward and give the police the information they were so eager to obtain. There was absolutely nothing in the possession of the public; but there was something in the possession of the police which was eventually to bring the murderer to the gallows. file murderer had left his name behind him on the blade of one of the chisels. The murderer's "card" was actually in the possession of the polic", and they did not know it. On the chisel there were a fewscratches. At first no importance was attached to them. But when later on the chisel was subjected to microscopical examination, the scratches were found to resolve thenselves into a word. That word was ••ltock." The murder was committed on December Ist, 1882. It was not until July, 1884—more than a year and a half after Constable Cole had been fatally shot outside the Baptist cliapel—that the police, " from information received," began to get on the track of the assassin. It was hinted to them—in ail probability the information came from a convict anxious to shorten his termthat there was a young man. named Orrock who might not be able to account satisfactorily for his movements on the night of December Ist, 18S2. Orrock! The* name was familiar to some oi the police. The criminal records were searched, and it was found that a young man named Orrock—a cabinet-maker-was then undergoing at Coldbath Fields ■a sentence of twelve months' imprisonment for burglary. The young woman who had seen the, murderer struggling with his victim on the night of the crime was taken to Coldbath Fields. Orrock, she said, was very like the man, but she could not swear to him. But two policemen had just before thy murder noticed a young man hanging about the chapel. They went to Coldbath Fields, and they recognised Orrock as the man they hail seen loitering about. ' There were certain young men undergoing imprisonment for burglary who were known to have been companions of the suspected Orrock. They were promptly interviewed, and one of them, persuaded that he had no longer any need to keep the oath of secrecy lie had taken—of which more presently—gave valuable information. They confessed that they were with Orrock on the night of the crime, but they protested that they were not with him when he shot the policeman. They were waiting for him in a public-house near the chapel. One of them, when shown the chisid. identified it as Orrock's. This young fellow had licen in the habit of taking it—he and Orrock were fellow-worker at a cabinet-maker's —to be shar|ii'ih"i at a alio]) kept by a widow named Preston. Mrs. Preston, when shown the chisel, looked at the scratches. "I did that," she. said. "1 always scratch the names of customer* on tools they bring me, that I may give tlie:u the right ones back. I scratched ' Koc:; on that with the point of a nail. Ko'-k is short for Orrock. It was sufficient tc tell me to whom it belonged." There was no longer any doubt; hut the police, before bringing the young burglar from Cohlbath Fields to stan-1 his "trial on the capital charge, meant to have every link in the chain of evidence complete. Orrock's chisel had been found on die actual proof that he himself had Jell it there. . . Thev wanted a piece of circumstantiiM evidence to go with it. and to strengthen it Thev wanted to bind Ojtoc:; down to the deed with a double cord. The brave young constable had been shot with a pistol. A bullet hid been taken Srom his head. Another iiad been found in his truncheon-case. Again the gaolbirds whispered a damning secret into the ears of justice. They told how, before the murder. Orrock saw an advertisement oU'erina a pistol for sale. He went to the advertiser's private bouse, anil bought the weapon for 10s, receiving with it tweiinfive, cartridges. The wife of the young man who advertised the pistol identified Orrock as the person who hid culled at her house to see it. and had purchased it. One of the two men who had been with Orrock on the night of the murder liad also accompanied him when he pur-

chased the pistol. Oil the way home i they walked by Tottenham Marshes. | On the Marshes, near the railwayI bridge across the Lea, Orrock tried his ne»y weapon. Uo shot at a tree. The police went to the spot. The tree was pointed out to them. From the tree they extracted a bullet. They took the bullet back with them, and compared it with the bullet that had killed l'olice-constable Cole. The bullets were of the same kind. Both would have lilted the same pistol. Oil September 20th, 1884, Thomas Orrock, aged twenty-one, was tried at Die Old Bailey before Mr. ,Justice Hawk,ins for the murder of Police-constable Co'.e outside the Baptist chapel in Dalston, on December Ist, 1882. lie was found guilty, and condemned to death. The evidence of his companions was tainted, but it was supported by evidence that was beyond suspicion, and I)y "the convicting pieces"—the chisel, the bullets, and the hat. Orrock's sister, a highly respectable woman, told how, on the night of I lie murder, he had come home hatless, and witli the knees of his trousers torn, and in a condition which made her ask what had happened. His reply was that he had been lighting. One of the most remarkable pieces of evidence was given by the deacon of the chapel. Orrock's wicked scheme that elided in murder had been built up on an entirely false assumption on his part. The Communion-plate used in the chapel was not kept there. . Had Orrock succeeded in getting into the building he would have found nothing to take away. The story of Thomas Orrock is deeply interesting, not merely to the criminologist, but to the student of human nature. The remarkable manner in which, after a lapse of a year and a half, the crime was brought home to the guilty man, caused The Times to devote a leading article to the trial, and the text of the article was the old I adage that " Murder will out." iAs a. etory of detection, the piecing together of a chain of evidence link by link, the case of Thomas Orrock will always remain a celebrated one in our criminal annals. I But of far greater human interest is the story of the man himself. He was a skilled workman before be had arrived at the age which, in the I old days of our supremacy in arts and crafts, saw the close of the period <">f apprenticeship. ■He was a constant attendant at the chapel he attempted to rob. With his sister, and a young lady whose misforune it was to become his wife, he was a regular worshipper. He had a sitting, and paid for it; and lie was, with iiis relatives, highly esteemed by the minis- , ter and by the officials of the chapel. He .planned the burglary while; present in the chapel during the celebration of the Communion service. He saw the plate, and—a professional burglar in his leisure time—he looked at it with a burglar's eyes. He had certain ideas of the pennydreadful kind. | Soon after the crime he met his , "mates," and discussed with them the £2OO reward offered for " information." i He discussed the situation calmly with them, and insisted that they should each take a solemn oath of secrecy, ' and bind themselves, if any member of the party turned traitor, "to put '"3 i light out." ' These young men—two of them workmen engaged in ths same business as ' Orrock—swore a melodramatic oath to take the life of any " comrade" who, for the sake of his blood-money, shouid peach." After committing the murder, and before committing the burglary for which ■ he was sent to Coldbath Fields, Orrock married a young lady who had been a fellow-worshipper at the Baptist chapel. This young lady knew him as a member of a respectable family, and looked upon him as a steady, clever young man, likely to make a good position for himself. The young couple walked home from chapel together every Sunday, and Orrock frequently attended the social services on the weekday evenings, and assisted his fiancee, who also taught in the Suuday-school. She was in love with the young man, and he was in love with her. But when . he put the ring upon her linger, and made her his wife, he was a murderer, for whose arrest there was a reward (i £2OO. One of the reward bills was exhibited outside a police-station that the young bride and bridegroom passed on their marriage morning! One of the saddest letters that 1 have ever read lies before me as I write. It is a letter written to me only a year ago by a kind-hearted woman in whose house the young wife of the wretched youth, who was hanged at the age of twenty-one, went some years later to live. She did not go there in the name that had been made infamous by the man who gave it her at the altar. No one who saw the gentle woman, with the sad eyos, and the face that never smiled, connected her with the black tragedy that had marred her life for ever. But one day, when she lay ill, and her heart was full of gratitude for the sympathy and kindness that had been shown her by her landlady, she told tlie story of her great sorrow to the woman who had shown herself to be a true friend. She did not dwell oil the wrong the murderer had done her in making her his wife. She tried to make her confidante believe that the man to whom she had given her girlish love was not wholly bad. She spoke of him not as the world knew him,, but as she knew him; and she could not even then, when the years had brought her bitter knowledge of the world, believe that he had been the hardened criminal those who knew his lifestory held him to be. The burglary for which he was sent to prison he committed in order that he might be put where he would be comparatively safe while such determined efforts were being made to discover his whereabouts. The murder itself was not premeditated. Orrock always maintained to his associates that the first shot went off in a struggle for the ipistol, and that, having wounded the constable, he fired again in the desperate determination fo escape capture at all costs, seeing that in tlie event of the wound accidentally inflicted nroving fatal, he would be held to be a murderer, and meet with a murderer's fate. \"o one would wisli to rob a heartbroken woman of the little comfort she could find in such an argument. But a man who takes a loaded pistol with him when he goes to rob a chapel takes it to use it in case of need, and, in using it, he knows the risk he runs. Craftsman by day and burglar by night, Orrock planned, in the chapel in which he was a worshipper, robbery and sacrilege, with a deadly weapon to protect himself in case of "interference." He married a good and gentle girl, his chajwl companion, within a few weeks of his ghastly crime, and he died at the hands of the hangman before he was twenty-two. Yet, with a full knowledge of tlrs young man's record, one asks oneself, in amazement, how, loving the gentle girl as he did, and knowing that his love was returned, he could lie so brutally indifferent to her chance of happiness in life as to man'V her when all England was ringing with his crime, and when ho knew that several men shared his secret, and that any one of them could, with a siugle word, put the rope round his neck. [ fold the letter reverently that teils the young wife's pitiful story, and put it back in its place again. It has lifted the curtain on one of the saddest tragedies of a woman's abiding love that the mind of man can conceive. There, is a tragic similarity in tinfate of the voung bride of the murdered man and the young bride of his murderer. The young constable was murdered in the early days of his married life. It was still his honeymoon. The young wife of the murderer had been a bride but a few weeks when her husband was taken from her, never to be given back to her again.