CHAPTERCLXI.PEACE’S LAST NIGHT IN SHEFFIELD—HIS REMOVAL TO WAKEFIELD—INCIDENTS BEFORE THE TRIAL—A TRUE BILL FOUND.We must now return to Charles Peace, who, the reader will remember, was fully committed for trial upon the charge of murder, a report of the examination of which appeared in a previous chapter. Peace entered his cell, and there he soon recovered his spirits, and was more cheerful than he had been since his recapture.He spent a much better night, and on Saturday morning he appeared refreshed and altogether a stronger man. It may not be, perhaps, out of place to refer here to an extraordinary statement made by Peace at this time.His relative, who lives in Spring-street, made no secret of the fact that Peace did call on him on the night of the murder. Peace came to his door and found it locked.He went into the public-house close by and asked for a glass of beer, and seeing his brother there, called him out. They were together a few minutes, and then Peace wished him “Good-bye,” and went on to the Attercliffe-road station, and took train at Rotherham.When he arrived at the Masbro’ station, he found there was no train to Beverley for two hours; and he wandered about in the neighbourhood during that time, and when the train came up, he procured his ticket and went on, as stated, to Normanton.At that time Peace was altogether unaware of the result of his encounter with Mr. Dyson. He saw his victim fall, and he heard Mrs. Dyson scream, and he had no doubt that the second shot had inflicted injury, but it was not until the next morning, when he was at York, and saw the papers, that he became aware that he had committed murder.He further disguised himself, and took greater precautions than before to avoid detection. In confirmation of Peace’s story about having been seen in London, it may be mentioned that Mr. W. Fisher told Detective Carswell—amongst other officers—that he had seen Peace in Holborn.Peace further stated that in the course of his career he has stolen thousands of pounds’ worth of property—diamond rings, gold watches, and, indeed, valuable articles of every description.On the Saturday succeeding his committal Peace was removed to the county prison at Wakefield.He was seen in the morning by Mr. Hallam, the police sergeant, for the purpose of ascertaining whether he was in a condition to be removed, and on his certifying that he could safely undergo the short journey from Sheffield to Wakefield, it was decided that he should be taken there in the afternoon.This intention was observed with the utmost secresy. But, somehow or other, a rumour got abroad that Peace was likely to be removed, and small crowds hung about the station, and especially in close proximity to the entrance in Castle-green.The appearance of the prison-van horses on their way through the town of course led to the supposition that the van was to be used, and the crowds quickly increased. But there was a strong force of policemen on duty in the neighbourhood of the station, and as their orders were to keep the people “moving on,” they carried their instructions out very literally.The spectators indeed might as well have moved off altogether, for nothing whatever could be seen; and when the prison van did come out, it was driven off so rapidly that but a glimpse of it could be caught as it quickly disappeared down Castle-green.There was also but little to be seen inside the parade ground at the police station, where the prison van was drawn up in readiness to receive its very notorious occupant.The first intimation that Peace was about to leave his cell was furnished by some of the prison officials bringing down the mattress upon which he had lain since his arrival here, and the rugs or blankets which constituted his bed clothes.These were placed upon the floor of the van, and an impromptu bed was thus readily at hand. Soon afterwards Peace himself came down. But he did not walk—whether he could not or because he was still “shamming,” is entirely a matter of opinion.One of his warders, a man of sturdy frame and powerful build, held him underneath his arms, whilst the other warder and Inspector Bradbury, carried him by his legs. In this way he was taken from his cell, down the two flights of stairs, and then out into the parade ground.If Peace were shamming, he did it admirably. He looked a miserable, wretched object of humanity—a little limp bundle of brown-coloured clothes, out of which peeped a face intensely wan and haggard.It was noticed that he wistfully and almost pleadingly glanced into the faces of those who were in the parade ground, probably in the hope of seeing some one whom he knew; but there was no time for recognition, for he was carried quickly across the space between the bottom of the steps and the prison van, and placed upon the mattress on the floor.The warders followed him in. Inspector Bradbury and others joined them; the door was then locked, and the van speedily driven out of the station.In some mysterious manner the news became known that Peace would go from the Midland station, and a considerable number of people assembled there.They stood about near to the entrance, of course expecting that the prison van would draw up there, and that a good view would be obtained of the convict as he was brought in. They were disappointed.Presently several policemen suddenly appeared at the Heeley end of the platform, and immediately there was a rush in that direction.Almost before the foremost of the crowd could get to the open beyond the platform, the prison van was driven rapidly into the yard and drawn up close to a passenger guard’s van, which was in waiting on the siding.That had been placed there in readiness to receive the convict and those in charge of him. The movements of all concerned were marvellously quick in what they had to do.The doors of the guard’s van were thrown open, and at the same time the doors of the prison van. Out of the latter stepped members of the Sheffield force, and then came the warders carrying their burden.He was promptly lifted into the guard’s van, moaning piteously, and placed on the floor. Then his mattress and rugs were carried in, and a bed prepared for him, and on it he was laid and covered up.He appeared glad to curl himself up under the rugs and to hide himself from the gaze of the bystanders; for notwithstanding the utmost exertions of the police and the officials at the station, a great number of people got near, and many hundreds more crowded the bridge across the line and other points from which they could see what was passing.The warders, Inspector Bradbury, and Police-constable Capel, entered the van with the prisoner, and the doors were then shut and bolted.The people surged round the window, anxious to catch a glimpse of the prisoner, but all that the most favoured could see was what was very much like a heap of rugs on a mattress.Amongst the crowd was Police-constable Robinson, who was shot by Peace at Blackheath. He came forward and shook hands with the warders through the window, and had a look at the man with whom he had had such a deadly encounter.After waiting a short time the train from London arrived in the station, the guard’s van was pushed up from the siding to it, and the train went on its journey.The van was detached from the train at Sandal and Walton, and hooked on to the train for Wakefield, where it arrived soon after three o’clock. One of the warders left the van and called a cab, and into it Peace was lifted.Accompanied by his two warders and Inspector Bradbury, he was driven to Wakefield prison, where he was safely lodged.The warders were supplied with the necessary documentary evidence that Peace had been handed over to the officials at Wakefield, and later in the evening they set out on their return journey to Pentonville.They were heartily glad to be released from any further charge of the convict, who since his escape had been a source of great anxiety and trouble to them.Nothing of importance occurred during the journey. Soon after the train had left Sheffield, Peace threw back his rugs, looked at his custodians, and then asked, “Where are you taking me to?”They told him he was going to Wakefield. He gave a groan, rolled himself up in his rugs, and nothing more was heard from him throughout the journey.Peace, after his arrival to Wakefield, was watched with the utmost jealousy by the officials, and as the convict recovered from the effects of his leap from the railway carriage, he displayed a good deal of irritation at this strict supervision.He declared that never before was he so closely watched as he was then. His system was recovering its tone, and the effects of the injuries sustained by his leap from the train were becoming less apparent.REMOVAL OF PEACE TO LEEDS.On the arrival of Peace at the Wakefield prison, on Saturday, a notice was posted at the principal entrance lodge in Love-lane, warning the officials not to divulge any information to the outside public, and this order was most strictly complied with.It may be mentioned that Peace was no stranger at the Wakefield House of Correction, for he had been incarcerated there on three or four different occasions, and one of his visits was rendered famous by a most daring act.A man named Roberts, who lived in Garden-street, Wakefield, and was for many years an officer at the Wakefield Prison, informed a correspondent on the occasion that in 1854 Peace was ordered to be imprisoned for four years, and he was sent to Wakefield.For some time he worked in the gardens which surround the gaol, and in the evenings after work hours he was in the habit of whiling away the time and amusing himself by cutting out figures and making designs in tin, cardboard,&c., or in cutting tissue paper in various ways for the decoration of rooms.Subsequently he was employed in what is known as the beaming room in connection with the manufacture of mats and matting, and one afternoon, whilst in charge of Roberts, he succeeded in making his escape out of the room, the door of which had been accidentally left unfastened.He succeeded in getting upon a wall, and then climbed upon the roof of a house in the prison yard, which was occupied by the late Dr. Milner, who was convict surgeon at the prison at the time of which we speak—1854.Peace removed some of the slates on the roof of the doctor’s house, and made an aperture through which he descended into one of the bedrooms.Immediately he was missed from the work-room an alarm was raised, and a most diligent search commenced.In a very short time the daring fellow was found secreted on the top of a wardrobe, out of which he no doubt intended to take a suit of the doctor’s clothing and attire himself in them in place of the prison dress he was wearing.He was at once seized and placed in solitary confinement, when he became violent and made a most determined attempt to destroy himself. He inflicted a very severe gash in his throat, the mark produced by which was still visible.On the Tuesday night, Councillor Atkinson, cab proprietor, received instructions from Captain Godfrey Armytage, the governor, to have two coaches in readiness at half-past one o’clock the following afternoon, for the purpose of conveying Peace to Armley, and the strict secresy which was enjoined on him was observed to the very letter.It may be safely affirmed that not a single other person in Wakefield had the slightest idea of the time of Peace’s departure, and the fact that all the trains departing for Leeds up to two o’clock on Wednesday were closely watched, showed that the mystery remained as deep as ever.Even at half-past one on Wednesday morning, when the fast train leaves for Leeds, people were found who, despising the cold, kept a steady look-out for Peace, and frequented the approaches to Westgate Station with the object of satisfying their insatiable curiosity.Precisely at the preconcerted hour, one of the coaches arranged for was driven into the prison yard, and pulled up in front of the main entrance.At that moment Peace was being conducted across the vestibule, heavily manacled, and guarded by three warders; so that as soon as the coach came to a standstill he was at the door.The proceeding seemed to go altogether “against the grain” with him; at one moment he twisted his face as if in pain, then changing to a scowl, he at last flashed his eyes with evident anger as he was ordered to step into the coach.This he seemed to do with pain, making it appear that the lifting of his legs was indeed a laborious task. When he had sat down within, three warders, armed with cutlasses and revolvers, got in after him, and then the windows being darkened by blinds drawn down, the coach was driven out.The whole proceedings, which were under the personal direction of Captain Armytage, and were carried out in the presence of a considerable body of the prison officials, did not occupy much over a minute.In the lane outside the prison scarcely a single person was stirring, so that the coach got clear away up Back-lane and throughSt.John’s, without any of the general public being any the wiser.While matters were proceeding at the prison as we have just described, another two horse coach was being quietly walked up Back-lane, and destined to convey an extra body of armed warders to Armley along with those in the first coach.It was arranged that this second coach should wait at the West Riding Police Depot until the other came up; but as it was thought that its standing in the open street for some time might attract attention it was driven on for some distance further.When oppositeSt.John’s Church four warders, who had been sauntering along, got into it, and were driven along in the wake of the convict and his more immediate attendants.Here another move was made to throw the public off the scent, for instead of keeping the Leeds road, the drivers turned into the Bradford road as soon as they had got out of the town.Continuing on the route for four or five miles, when they got to the “White Bear Inn,” at Ardsley, they turned into the Leeds and Dewsbury road, by which they arrived at Armley Gaol.
We must now return to Charles Peace, who, the reader will remember, was fully committed for trial upon the charge of murder, a report of the examination of which appeared in a previous chapter. Peace entered his cell, and there he soon recovered his spirits, and was more cheerful than he had been since his recapture.
He spent a much better night, and on Saturday morning he appeared refreshed and altogether a stronger man. It may not be, perhaps, out of place to refer here to an extraordinary statement made by Peace at this time.
His relative, who lives in Spring-street, made no secret of the fact that Peace did call on him on the night of the murder. Peace came to his door and found it locked.
He went into the public-house close by and asked for a glass of beer, and seeing his brother there, called him out. They were together a few minutes, and then Peace wished him “Good-bye,” and went on to the Attercliffe-road station, and took train at Rotherham.
When he arrived at the Masbro’ station, he found there was no train to Beverley for two hours; and he wandered about in the neighbourhood during that time, and when the train came up, he procured his ticket and went on, as stated, to Normanton.
At that time Peace was altogether unaware of the result of his encounter with Mr. Dyson. He saw his victim fall, and he heard Mrs. Dyson scream, and he had no doubt that the second shot had inflicted injury, but it was not until the next morning, when he was at York, and saw the papers, that he became aware that he had committed murder.
He further disguised himself, and took greater precautions than before to avoid detection. In confirmation of Peace’s story about having been seen in London, it may be mentioned that Mr. W. Fisher told Detective Carswell—amongst other officers—that he had seen Peace in Holborn.
Peace further stated that in the course of his career he has stolen thousands of pounds’ worth of property—diamond rings, gold watches, and, indeed, valuable articles of every description.
On the Saturday succeeding his committal Peace was removed to the county prison at Wakefield.
He was seen in the morning by Mr. Hallam, the police sergeant, for the purpose of ascertaining whether he was in a condition to be removed, and on his certifying that he could safely undergo the short journey from Sheffield to Wakefield, it was decided that he should be taken there in the afternoon.
This intention was observed with the utmost secresy. But, somehow or other, a rumour got abroad that Peace was likely to be removed, and small crowds hung about the station, and especially in close proximity to the entrance in Castle-green.
The appearance of the prison-van horses on their way through the town of course led to the supposition that the van was to be used, and the crowds quickly increased. But there was a strong force of policemen on duty in the neighbourhood of the station, and as their orders were to keep the people “moving on,” they carried their instructions out very literally.
The spectators indeed might as well have moved off altogether, for nothing whatever could be seen; and when the prison van did come out, it was driven off so rapidly that but a glimpse of it could be caught as it quickly disappeared down Castle-green.
There was also but little to be seen inside the parade ground at the police station, where the prison van was drawn up in readiness to receive its very notorious occupant.
The first intimation that Peace was about to leave his cell was furnished by some of the prison officials bringing down the mattress upon which he had lain since his arrival here, and the rugs or blankets which constituted his bed clothes.
These were placed upon the floor of the van, and an impromptu bed was thus readily at hand. Soon afterwards Peace himself came down. But he did not walk—whether he could not or because he was still “shamming,” is entirely a matter of opinion.
One of his warders, a man of sturdy frame and powerful build, held him underneath his arms, whilst the other warder and Inspector Bradbury, carried him by his legs. In this way he was taken from his cell, down the two flights of stairs, and then out into the parade ground.
If Peace were shamming, he did it admirably. He looked a miserable, wretched object of humanity—a little limp bundle of brown-coloured clothes, out of which peeped a face intensely wan and haggard.
It was noticed that he wistfully and almost pleadingly glanced into the faces of those who were in the parade ground, probably in the hope of seeing some one whom he knew; but there was no time for recognition, for he was carried quickly across the space between the bottom of the steps and the prison van, and placed upon the mattress on the floor.
The warders followed him in. Inspector Bradbury and others joined them; the door was then locked, and the van speedily driven out of the station.
In some mysterious manner the news became known that Peace would go from the Midland station, and a considerable number of people assembled there.
They stood about near to the entrance, of course expecting that the prison van would draw up there, and that a good view would be obtained of the convict as he was brought in. They were disappointed.
Presently several policemen suddenly appeared at the Heeley end of the platform, and immediately there was a rush in that direction.
Almost before the foremost of the crowd could get to the open beyond the platform, the prison van was driven rapidly into the yard and drawn up close to a passenger guard’s van, which was in waiting on the siding.
That had been placed there in readiness to receive the convict and those in charge of him. The movements of all concerned were marvellously quick in what they had to do.
The doors of the guard’s van were thrown open, and at the same time the doors of the prison van. Out of the latter stepped members of the Sheffield force, and then came the warders carrying their burden.
He was promptly lifted into the guard’s van, moaning piteously, and placed on the floor. Then his mattress and rugs were carried in, and a bed prepared for him, and on it he was laid and covered up.
He appeared glad to curl himself up under the rugs and to hide himself from the gaze of the bystanders; for notwithstanding the utmost exertions of the police and the officials at the station, a great number of people got near, and many hundreds more crowded the bridge across the line and other points from which they could see what was passing.
The warders, Inspector Bradbury, and Police-constable Capel, entered the van with the prisoner, and the doors were then shut and bolted.
The people surged round the window, anxious to catch a glimpse of the prisoner, but all that the most favoured could see was what was very much like a heap of rugs on a mattress.
Amongst the crowd was Police-constable Robinson, who was shot by Peace at Blackheath. He came forward and shook hands with the warders through the window, and had a look at the man with whom he had had such a deadly encounter.
After waiting a short time the train from London arrived in the station, the guard’s van was pushed up from the siding to it, and the train went on its journey.
The van was detached from the train at Sandal and Walton, and hooked on to the train for Wakefield, where it arrived soon after three o’clock. One of the warders left the van and called a cab, and into it Peace was lifted.
Accompanied by his two warders and Inspector Bradbury, he was driven to Wakefield prison, where he was safely lodged.
The warders were supplied with the necessary documentary evidence that Peace had been handed over to the officials at Wakefield, and later in the evening they set out on their return journey to Pentonville.
They were heartily glad to be released from any further charge of the convict, who since his escape had been a source of great anxiety and trouble to them.
Nothing of importance occurred during the journey. Soon after the train had left Sheffield, Peace threw back his rugs, looked at his custodians, and then asked, “Where are you taking me to?”
They told him he was going to Wakefield. He gave a groan, rolled himself up in his rugs, and nothing more was heard from him throughout the journey.
Peace, after his arrival to Wakefield, was watched with the utmost jealousy by the officials, and as the convict recovered from the effects of his leap from the railway carriage, he displayed a good deal of irritation at this strict supervision.
He declared that never before was he so closely watched as he was then. His system was recovering its tone, and the effects of the injuries sustained by his leap from the train were becoming less apparent.
REMOVAL OF PEACE TO LEEDS.
On the arrival of Peace at the Wakefield prison, on Saturday, a notice was posted at the principal entrance lodge in Love-lane, warning the officials not to divulge any information to the outside public, and this order was most strictly complied with.
It may be mentioned that Peace was no stranger at the Wakefield House of Correction, for he had been incarcerated there on three or four different occasions, and one of his visits was rendered famous by a most daring act.
A man named Roberts, who lived in Garden-street, Wakefield, and was for many years an officer at the Wakefield Prison, informed a correspondent on the occasion that in 1854 Peace was ordered to be imprisoned for four years, and he was sent to Wakefield.
For some time he worked in the gardens which surround the gaol, and in the evenings after work hours he was in the habit of whiling away the time and amusing himself by cutting out figures and making designs in tin, cardboard,&c., or in cutting tissue paper in various ways for the decoration of rooms.
Subsequently he was employed in what is known as the beaming room in connection with the manufacture of mats and matting, and one afternoon, whilst in charge of Roberts, he succeeded in making his escape out of the room, the door of which had been accidentally left unfastened.
He succeeded in getting upon a wall, and then climbed upon the roof of a house in the prison yard, which was occupied by the late Dr. Milner, who was convict surgeon at the prison at the time of which we speak—1854.
Peace removed some of the slates on the roof of the doctor’s house, and made an aperture through which he descended into one of the bedrooms.
Immediately he was missed from the work-room an alarm was raised, and a most diligent search commenced.
In a very short time the daring fellow was found secreted on the top of a wardrobe, out of which he no doubt intended to take a suit of the doctor’s clothing and attire himself in them in place of the prison dress he was wearing.
He was at once seized and placed in solitary confinement, when he became violent and made a most determined attempt to destroy himself. He inflicted a very severe gash in his throat, the mark produced by which was still visible.
On the Tuesday night, Councillor Atkinson, cab proprietor, received instructions from Captain Godfrey Armytage, the governor, to have two coaches in readiness at half-past one o’clock the following afternoon, for the purpose of conveying Peace to Armley, and the strict secresy which was enjoined on him was observed to the very letter.
It may be safely affirmed that not a single other person in Wakefield had the slightest idea of the time of Peace’s departure, and the fact that all the trains departing for Leeds up to two o’clock on Wednesday were closely watched, showed that the mystery remained as deep as ever.
Even at half-past one on Wednesday morning, when the fast train leaves for Leeds, people were found who, despising the cold, kept a steady look-out for Peace, and frequented the approaches to Westgate Station with the object of satisfying their insatiable curiosity.
Precisely at the preconcerted hour, one of the coaches arranged for was driven into the prison yard, and pulled up in front of the main entrance.
At that moment Peace was being conducted across the vestibule, heavily manacled, and guarded by three warders; so that as soon as the coach came to a standstill he was at the door.
The proceeding seemed to go altogether “against the grain” with him; at one moment he twisted his face as if in pain, then changing to a scowl, he at last flashed his eyes with evident anger as he was ordered to step into the coach.
This he seemed to do with pain, making it appear that the lifting of his legs was indeed a laborious task. When he had sat down within, three warders, armed with cutlasses and revolvers, got in after him, and then the windows being darkened by blinds drawn down, the coach was driven out.
The whole proceedings, which were under the personal direction of Captain Armytage, and were carried out in the presence of a considerable body of the prison officials, did not occupy much over a minute.
In the lane outside the prison scarcely a single person was stirring, so that the coach got clear away up Back-lane and throughSt.John’s, without any of the general public being any the wiser.
While matters were proceeding at the prison as we have just described, another two horse coach was being quietly walked up Back-lane, and destined to convey an extra body of armed warders to Armley along with those in the first coach.
It was arranged that this second coach should wait at the West Riding Police Depot until the other came up; but as it was thought that its standing in the open street for some time might attract attention it was driven on for some distance further.
When oppositeSt.John’s Church four warders, who had been sauntering along, got into it, and were driven along in the wake of the convict and his more immediate attendants.
Here another move was made to throw the public off the scent, for instead of keeping the Leeds road, the drivers turned into the Bradford road as soon as they had got out of the town.
Continuing on the route for four or five miles, when they got to the “White Bear Inn,” at Ardsley, they turned into the Leeds and Dewsbury road, by which they arrived at Armley Gaol.