THE CARCOAR TRAGEDY.

Temuka Leader, Issue 2567, 12 October 1893, Page 4

THE CARCOAR TRAGEDY.

The following account of the tragedy at the City Bank of Sydney at Oarcoar, is taken from the Christchurch Kress : Her story was told intho following words : "I, Annie Dorothy Phillips, wife of John William Phillips, late Manager of the City Bank of Sydney, Oarcoar Branch, being aware that I am in danger of death, and may shortly die, make the following solemn declaration in connection with the tragedy which occurred in our residence after midnight at the Oarcoar branch of the City Bank on the 24 th iust:—l retired to rest after receiving my sister and Miss Kavanagh, who arrived a little after ten by train on the night of the 23rd inat. 1 and my husband retired to bed at about a quarter to twelve. The baby, Gladyß, somewhat disturbed our rest; my sleep was a little uneasy, and after I had been in bed somo time I thought I heard a noise on the stairs, like someone walking. This was about 2 o'clock, and I awakened my husband. Both of us noticed a glimmer of light in the dining-room, and we got up and went downstairs together. My husband took his revolver in his hand, and as the light came from the dining-room, we entered it. When we got into that apartment, 1 saw by the candle which I had brought from the bedroom that there was a man behind the door with a half-axe in his hand, and the lower part of his face was covered with a black mask. It iooked to me like leather, but I cannot swear to the substance. The mau at once knocked the candle out of my hand, and I believe he at once struck my husband, as he fell and carried me with him. He moaned pitifully, and I endeavoured to get out of the door, and almost at the same time the man in the room whistled; my husband then seemed to be struggling with him, and fell to the floor, moaning fearfully. I said to him ; ' Why don't you use the revolver to him, give me the pistol; if you cau't shoot I will.' After that, I don't know how, I found myself at the foot of the stairs and called Miss Stoddart, my sister, who had come up from Sydney on Saturday, and Miss Kavanagh, who accompanied her. I managed to scream out that someone was killing Jack iu the dining-room, and called out murder. I thought of my baby, and went up to my bedroom to look for her. 1 heard a scream about this time, and at first 1 thought it was my husband, but I think now it must have been one of the girls. I tried to strike a match which I had in my hand, but did not at first succeed. Eventually however, I did get a light, but before I could do anything a man came into the bedroom ; I saw him. He had not his mask on as when he blow out my candle in the dinning-room and struck my husband. I pulled off his mask. I saw the man had the same axe in his hand, and immediately felt a blow on my cheek, but did not s<:e auy blood; bu; while the man wa<" trying to pull the tomahawk out of my cheek, I struggled with him. Just at this time my sister, Miss Stoddart, came into the room and said,«Oh, Annie, you are hurt.' I held something to my face and said, ' I must go to Jack, he will be killed.' My sister said ; ' You are dreadfully hurt, you must lie down.' She perBiiaded me to lie down, but I had not been on the bed five or ten minutes when the man without the mask came back and said, « Give me the keys ; give me the keys of the Bank Bafe, or I'll shoot you.' My sister said,' Oh, do not kill us, you have a wife and relatives.' Ho said, < How do you know,'but at the same time my 6ister said to me 'Give him the key?,' and I got up and got some out of my husband's trousers pockets. The man took the keys and went out, but returned soon t.fter and said, ' What do you moan; you have given me the wrong keys.' I said ' Mr, Phillips is not the manager now ; wo have not got the keys.' He said,' Who has them.' I said, ' The new manager.' He said, 'Where is he.' I replied,' He is at one of the hotels.' My sister added, 'ldon't know where he is;.l only came to the town to-night.' He then said, ' Let me get away ; let none of you make a noise and scream, or I will shoot you.' Before ho went away I fell sure that J knew him, and it was like Bertie Glasson ;n height and size, and since then 1 am sure that he is the man. Some little time after the inau left I screamed out, 'Are you gone/ and a 3 I got no reply, assisted by my sister, I went down stairs to the dining-room, where my husband was lying iu front of the door. He was not dead, but was speechless, excepting for a moment when he mentioned my name. I put his head on my lap, but I Was soon unable to bear his weight, and was taken away from him." Mrs Phillips does not yet know the fate of her husband, but in answer to her enquiries is told that he is all right. Bertie Glasson was arrested atCowra, thirty miles away, on Monday for the murder. He is the brother-in-law of the Rev. Mr Clark, of Oarcoar, and one fact that led to suspicion being thrown on him was that Mr Clark's hot'se was stolen. Mrs Philips also states that when the murderer was pulling the tomahawk out of her cheek she pulled off his mask and recognised him and said " Good God, Bertie Glasson, has it come to this ; I know you." It is also believed that Mr Philips had plenty of opportunities of shooting the intruder, but he remonstrated with him and said, ' Bertie, why do you do this thing ] you. will only got yourself into trouble. Do go away, there is a good fellow. What on earth has induced you to do this sort of .thing? When Glasson met Miss Kavanagh on the stairs he apparently thought it was Mrs Philips, whom lie had heard call out with maternal solicitude for her baby. Knowing that she had recognised him he made a vicious cut at her neck, nearly lopping off the child's fingers, which were around Miss Kavanagh's neck, and cutting the latter so severely that she fell down dead. Glasson's full name is Edwin Hubert Glasson; his father was a noted woolgrower, known m a sheep-breeder all over Australia. Sympathy is everywhere expressed for the family, twofi>£ whom are Justices of the Peace. " Bertie/' 33 he is generally called, is the black sheep of | the family. At his father's death he was given a splendid start as a grazier, but quickly became involved. The stock-in-trade of a butcher's shop owned by him was sold by the sheriff's office*' hf order of the Bathurst Branch of the City JOajtk | of Sy4«ey, He came up from Sydney to Carcoar on Saturday iu the same train si& Miss Stoddart and Mim Kavanagh. Some eight rnonhts ago he marrjnd a clever young musician, Miss Sunimesbeil, who is well known in Sydney. She and her j husband were lately Jiving at the Hotel Metropole, and his money had run out. It now leaks out that during tho last three or four months he has forged cheques amouting to sums variously stated at from £IOOO to £I2OO. A few weeks ago his relatives paid that amount to keep him from exposure. He is only twenty-six years of age. Ho is well-known in social crcles, where he was very popular. His wife is conspicuous for good looks, aod at a recent show, picnic, and races they were generally remarked upon as a handsome

couple. He rode his own horse in the jumping contests, and also visited other exhibitions, winning several prizes. In Glasson's pocket was found the following letter, addressed to his wife :—" My DarHug Little Wife, Room 188, Hotel Metropole, Sydney.—Oh my precious queen, I am going mad, and have felt it coming on for some timo. I came to myself to-day (Sunday) in one of Stanfield's paddocks, and I had on a black suit of clothes all covered with blood. What 1 have done I have no idea. I remember leaving Sydney to go to Orange, but I don't know if I have, and feel so terribly strange now, darling, that I don't know where I want to go. If I get lost and die in the bush, I hope I will be found, and you will get the note; better for me to be dead than for you to have a mad husband. If I live to get back to the Hotel Metropole, I'll never leave you a day. I will have to walk to Cowra to catch a train." Since his arrest Glasson assumes madness all through. When Miss Stoddart, who did not see him after his arrest, was taken to the lock-up, she picked him out from eight. Pointing to Glasson, she said positively," That is the man. Say what you said before—l want money. That is he, say it again, speak out. Oh ! my sister, I have had my revenge." Glasson made no reply, and the yoaug lady became hystericalA very singular occurrence in the life of the murdered man is narrated by a Mr Hart, of Broken Hill, who was acquainted with poor Philips when a youth at Kiania. When Philips was twelve years of age he went out one day with his father fishing off the rocks; it was believed that the lad in • twirling the line round his head, preparatory to casting it into the sea, struck his father on the skull with the lead sinker, for the father fell into the sea, and never rose again, his body probably being fastened on by sharks. Young Philips made a grab at his father as the latter was falling, and caught his hat. The fatality had a great effect on the lad.