Shropshire Murders E-Book

Nicola Sly

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Shropshire Murders brings together numerous murderous tales, some which were little known outside the county, and others which made national headlines. Contained within the pages of this book are the stories behind some of the most heinous crimes ever committed in Shropshire. They include the Revd Robert Foulkes, who killed his illegitimate child in 1678; the murder of Catherine Lewis by John Mapp at Longden in 1867; the horrific axe murders committed by John Doughty at Church Stretton in 1924; and the tragic death of Dennis O'Neill, who was beaten and starved by his foster parents in 1944. Nicola Sly's carefully researched and enthralling text will appeal to anyone interested in the shady side of Shropshire's history.

Leseprobe

Shropshire

MURDERS

NICOLA SLY

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

Bristol Murders

Cornish Murders (with John Van der Kiste)

Dorset Murders

Hampshire Murders

Somerset Murders (with John Van der Kiste)

Wiltshire Murders

First published in 2009

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2012

All rights reserved

© Nicola Sly, 2009, 2012

The right of Nicola Sly, to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 8399 3

MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 8398 6

Original typesetting by The History Press

CONTENTS

Author’s Note & Acknowledgements

1. ‘Oh, dear, dad, do not!’

Severn Hall, near Bridgnorth, 1823

2. ‘I have the truth at my tongue’s end, but I dare not speak it’

Bridgnorth, 1823

3. ‘My Lord Judge, let me call my witnesses’

Market Drayton, 1827

4. ‘My life is gone’

Beckbury, 1833

5. ‘Lord, receive my soul’

Bronygarth, 1841

6. ‘Oh dear, how ill I am’

Whixall, 1841

7. ‘Found dead’

Pontesbury, 1845

8. ‘Did you ever see anything betwixt her and me?’

Nesscliffe, 1854

9. ‘Do you hear how they are quarrelling?’

Much Wenlock, 1857

10. ‘What have you done with him?’

Baschurch, 1862

11. ‘All must die sometime or another’

Longden, 1867

12. ‘You’ll finish me just now’

Mardol, Shrewsbury, 1874

13. ‘Oh, laws, Sally, he’s stabbed me’

Market Drayton, 1877

14. ‘Both me and my husband are free of murder’

Kynnersley, 1883

15. ‘You have got the wrong man’

Prees Lower Heath, 1887

16. ‘Is he dead then?’

Whixall, 1887

17. ‘Will no one help my poor mother?’

Madeley Wood, Ironbridge, 1887

18. ‘I have killed the best little woman on earth’

Much Wenlock, 1898

19. ‘No doubt he is the root of all the evil’

Broseley, 1900

20. ‘I loved her and nobody else shall have her’

Westbury, 1901

21. ‘Don’t, for the sake of the children’

Ludlow, 1917

22. ‘I don’t remember doing it’

Church Stretton, 1924

23. ‘He was a very naughty boy’

Market Drayton, 1936

24. ‘I have nothing to say’

Pen-y-Wern, near Clun, 1939

25. ‘He will catch his death of cold’

Minsterley, 1945

26. ‘The money won’t do you any good, my lad’

Ketley, 1950

27. ‘I’ll search for her, if it takes all night’

Near Atcham, 1953

28. ‘Step one, you find a girl to love…’

Bridgnorth, 1960

29. ‘I am signing my death warrant, aren’t I?’

Shrewsbury, 1960

Bibliography & References

AUTHOR’S NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I was delighted to be asked to compile Shropshire Murders, since I have family living in the area and have always enjoyed exploring the county’s beautiful countryside and its historic towns with their timbered buildings and narrow winding streets. My enthusiasm waned slightly when my initial research seemed to show that, historically, Shropshire had case after case of ‘Attempted Murder’. (These included my relatives’ neighbour, a habitual drunkard, who determined to murder his wife. Fortunately for her, he was so befuddled by drink at the time that he actually shot her reflection in the mirror!) However, as this collection of true cases demonstrates, in every county there are always some people who, for one reason or another, are prepared to take a human life.

Several of the cases involve the murders of children, such as those of Edward Cooper, who murdered his son in Baschurch in 1862; John Mapp of Longden, who brutally murdered nine-year-old Catherine Lewis in 1867; and Desmond Hooper, who killed twelve-year-old Betty Smith near Atcham in 1953. Murders by jealous husbands and boyfriends account for several more, including the murder of Eliza Bowen by Richard Wigley at Westbury in 1901. Some of the killers were judged to be insane at the time of their crimes, while others claimed inebriation as the reason why they murdered, such as George Riley who killed elderly widow, Adeline Smith, at Shrewsbury in 1960, while trying to steal her handbag.

As always, there are numerous people to be acknowledged and thanked. John J. Eddleston, George Glover, Paul Harrison and Anthony Hunt have all previously published books either on murder in Shropshire or more general reference works on British murders and executions. These books are recorded in more detail in the bibliography, as are the local and national newspapers from which the details of the featured cases were drawn. My thanks must also go to the staff of the Shropshire Archives for their help with my research.

Map of Shropshire.

I am especially grateful to the Thomas Porter Blunt website (http://members.shaw.ca/TPBlunt/index.htm) for allowing me to use their photograph on page 72 and for providing me with some fascinating information about the Blunt family history. Analysts Thomas Porter Blunt and his father, Thomas W. Blunt, appear in two chapters and, in both cases, their work was a vital part of the police investigations.

On a more personal level, John Van der Kiste was, as always, generous with his help and support. My long-suffering husband, Richard, proof read every word of the book and made invaluable suggestions on how each chapter could be improved. He also acted as chauffeur for the research and photography trips from Cornwall to Shropshire and even took the occasional photograph himself. My grateful thanks also go to my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, John and Sue, who opened their home to us during our research trip to Shropshire. My father, John Higginson, was as supportive and encouraging as ever.

Finally, my thanks must go to Matilda Richards, my editor at The History Press, for her continued help and encouragement.

1

‘OH, DEAR, DAD, DO NOT!’

Severn Hall, near Bridgnorth, 1823

On 21 January 1823, tinsmith and brazier George Edwards paid a visit to John Newton at his farm at Severn Hall, near Bridgnorth. The purpose of Edwards’ visit was to collect his outstanding account from the farmer and, as was customary on these occasions, he was invited into the farmhouse and given a drink of beer, while Newton closely scrutinised the bill before paying it.

On this occasion, Newton paused in his examination of the bill querying the inclusion of a lamp, which had cost 3s. Newton insisted that he had given his wife, Sarah, the money to pay for the lamp and was most displeased to see that it had not been paid for. In a passion, Newton called for his wife, who came into the room. He asked her if he had given her the money to pay for the lamp and Sarah had to agree that he had.

This was enough to send John Newton into a rage. Telling the embarrassed Edwards that Sarah was always running him into debt, he promised to give her a good thrashing. Edwards advised him not to do so, saying that he would rather strike the lamp off the bill than have it cause an argument.

Edwards left the farm at about eight o’clock in the evening, passing through the kitchen on his way out. Sarah, who was five months pregnant, was sitting by the fire, looking upset. Edwards paused for long enough to shake hands with her and tell her to keep her spirits up then he walked into the yard, accompanied by John Newton. Before leaving, Edwards called out ‘Good night’ to Sarah, but there was no reply.

‘Oh, she’s gone to hide herself; she knows what to expect.’ Newton told him.

Edwards again warned Newton about beating his wife, threatening never to speak to him again if he harmed her. He then took his leave of John Newton and returned home to Bridgnorth.

In the early hours of the morning, Edwards was awakened by knocking on his door. When he went to answer it, he was surprised to find John Newton on his doorstep.

‘A bad job has happened,’ explained Newton, telling Edwards that Sarah was very ill.

‘Good God, Mr Newton, I hope you have done nothing wrong,’ responded Edwards, but Newton told him that he hadn’t struck his wife but that a complication had arisen in her pregnancy. He asked to be directed to the home of Dr Hall and Edwards pointed out the surgeon’s house then returned to his bed.

Earlier, a servant at the farm had been sent on a lengthy errand, which involved crossing the River Severn. Mary Jones left the farm at about four o’clock in the afternoon and returned at about eight o’clock. As she crossed the fields on her route home, she was four fields away from the farm when she heard the terrible sounds of children screaming, ‘Oh, dear, Dad, do not!’

Mary picked up her skirts and ran, continuing to hear the children shouting and crying in fear as she neared the house. As she entered, she found Sarah Newton lying on the floor by the front door, her eight-year-old son, John, by her side, trying his best to comfort her. Noticing that her mistress’s lower garments were soaked with blood, Mary called for help and soon John Newton arrived. He roused two more servants, Julia Oliver and William Batch, from their beds, telling them to get up and care for their mistress. Newton then left the house to summon Sarah Lloyd, a widow from Bridgnorth who was frequently called upon to attend the sick. Mrs Lloyd accompanied Newton back to the farm and found Sarah Newton lying on her side by the hearth in a pool of blood, her knees pulled up to her stomach. She had a black eye and a cut lip. Mrs Lloyd asked the farmer’s wife who had done this to her, but Sarah did not reply. In fact, the only time Sarah had spoken properly was when she called servant William Batch to her side and told him, ‘God bless you, Will. I take my leave of you.’

Sarah Newton was put to bed with Mrs Lloyd in attendance. Meanwhile John Newton also went to bed, after first asking Mary Jones about his wife’s condition. She told him that her mistress was very ill, to which Newton replied, ‘She must thank herself for that, for having bills brought in.’ Mary then suggested that Newton went to fetch a doctor, but Newton said that he couldn’t go, so Mary said she would go herself. Eventually, William Batch was sent for Dr Hall, who was out when he arrived at his home.

His assistant, Mr Barber, came to the farm in Hall’s stead. He examined Sarah Newton briefly and believed her to be ‘in great danger’. Nevertheless, the only treatment he prescribed was for Mary Jones to put vinegar and water on the cuts and bruises and to give her mistress a dose of laudanum and brandy. He then left.

Mary Jones roused John Newton at just after midnight to inform him that his wife had died. Newton seemed disbelieving, telling Mary that he was sure that Sarah had just fainted or fallen into a fit. When Mary finally managed to convince him that she was telling the truth, Newton jumped out of bed and announced his intention of going to fetch a doctor.

Between one and two o’clock in the morning, he arrived at Mr Hall’s, asking for a doctor to attend his wife, whom he believed was dying. Hall was still out and Barber told Newton that he believed he had done all he could for his wife. He gave him a bottle of medicine and sent Newton home, refusing to go back to the farm with him. The next time Barber saw Sarah Newton it was in the company of Dr Hall, at her post-mortem examination, which was carried out by Mr James Milman Coley. The doctors determined that Sarah Newton had bled to death following what they described as ‘external violence’.

John Newton appeared distraught at his wife’s death, telling William Batch that he ‘would give all the world for her again.’ He also admitted to Batch that he had hit Sarah two or three times with his hand, but insisted that the blows had not been hard ones and certainly not sufficient to cause her death. Before the inquest into his wife’s death took place, Newton instructed Mary Jones that she was not to say that she had heard the children screaming when still four fields away from the house. However, Mary Jones disobeyed him and told the truth, which infuriated Newton.

The coroner’s jury found that Sarah Newton had ‘died by bleeding, the cause of which is unknown to us.’ The police found themselves under pressure, particularly from Sarah’s brother, to charge John Newton with Sarah’s murder, and eventually Newton was committed to stand trial for wilful murder at the next Shropshire Assizes. His trial opened on 22 March 1823, before Mr Justice Best.

At the trial, tinsmith George Edwards was called to give evidence first, and was followed into the dock by servants Mary Jones, Julia Oliver and William Batch then Mrs Lloyd and Ann Jones, the mother of servant, Mary. It was then the turn of Mr James Barber, the assistant to surgeon Mr Hall.

Barber was heavily criticised by the judge for leaving Sarah Newton in so serious a condition and for not returning to the farm when he was called to do so. It was suggested that Barber should have made more effort to determine the source of Sarah Newton’s bleeding and to stop the blood loss. However, Barber insisted that, by the time he attended Mrs Newton, she had already lost a great deal of blood and her pulse had dropped to below thirty beats per minute. Telling the court that he had nine years experience as a medical assistant, he insisted that giving a dose of laudanum was the most appropriate treatment. Still, one doctor, Mr Ebenezer Vaughan, believed that Sarah Newton could have been saved, had the right medical treatment been given.

The medical witnesses all agreed that Sarah Newton had died as a result of blood loss and, since the newspapers of the time seemed strangely reluctant to detail her injuries, it can probably be assumed that she had a miscarriage, caused by the beating and kicking she had been given by her husband.

In Newton’s defence, it was pointed out that she had once before haemorrhaged after giving birth. The doctors were questioned as to whether or not Sarah could have worked herself up into a temper, causing her blood vessels to rupture, but they assured the court that this was not the case. Neither was it believed that ‘hard labour’ could have occasioned her death. In his own defence, John Newton told the court that he had been drunk at the time and that his wife had started the fight by attacking him – he had hit her only in self defence and had never meant to do her any harm. After that, the counsel for the defence called a number of witnesses in an attempt to prove to the court that John Newton had been insane at the time of the murder.

The first of these was Mr John Hewit, who was employed as an apothecary at Shrewsbury Gaol, where Newton had been confined since his arrest. Hewit testified that Newton had originally been ‘labouring under a great dejection of spirits’ on his admission to prison. However, on the third day of his incarceration, Newton had suddenly become incoherent and violent and Hewit had been forced to have him manacled in order to control him. He had remained in this manic state for two days before the medicines prescribed by Hewit finally took effect and made him calmer and quieter.

Under cross-examination, Hewit told the court that, although he had read a book on diseases in general, he had never read anything specific on diseases of the mind, neither had he ever been in charge of an insane prisoner. Even so, he continued to insist that Newton was insane.

Several witnesses then testified to a history of insanity in Newton’s family. His brother, James, had been an inmate in Stafford Asylum. Newton’s uncle told the court that both Newton’s mother’s uncle and cousin had died insane, while her sister had also spent time as an inmate in an asylum. In response to a direct question from the judge, the uncle stated that he had never known the accused to be insane.

However, other people disagreed. An employee of Newton’s father, with whom Newton had shared a bed, spoke of Newton discharging a gun in the bedroom for no apparent reason and having been found several times wandering stark naked in the farmyard during the night. John Taylor firmly believed that John Newton was ‘affected in his head’ and had even told Newton’s mother that he believed this to be the case.

Mr Coley, who was once the Newton’s family physician, stated that he had attended John Newton regularly and had never seen him display the slightest sign of insanity. Mr Hall, who had taken over from Coley as the Newton’s doctor, had treated John less frequently but agreed with his colleague that he was perfectly sane.

The judge then recalled George Edwards to question him on the amount of beer that had been consumed during the afternoon before Sarah Newton’s death. Edwards stated that five or six jugs of beer had been shared between three people, but that it had been very weak. He had been sober when he left the Newton’s farm and he believed the same could be said of the defendant.

There had been some discussion in court as to whether or not to call the Newton’s children to give evidence, particularly John, the oldest child. However, the judge gave his opinion that young John could add little to the proceedings and it would be extremely distressing for him to testify, hence it was decided not to involve him.

Thus it only remained for the judge to summarise the case for the benefit of the jury. He told them that they must first decide whether or not the deceased came to her death by an act of the accused. Secondly, if they believed that Sarah Newton had died as a result of a violent act committed by the accused, was her death murder or manslaughter? And thirdly, was the accused in a state of mind to know what he was doing and to understand the difference between good and evil.

On the first point, the judge conceded that there had been some argument between the medical witnesses but that all of them had concurred that a kick given to a woman in Sarah Newton’s situation would probably cause death. Addressing the question of murder or manslaughter, the judge pointed out that no weapon had been used, but if John Newton had beaten his wife to death when there was no evidence of immediate prior provocation then he would be guilty of murder. Finally, with regard to the defendant’s state of mind at the time of the attack, the judge said that being a wayward or passionate man was not sufficient to excuse the defendant, nor would it be sufficient to suggest a defence on the grounds of insanity. If a lunatic had lucid intervals, during which he committed a crime, then he would still be liable to suffer the full penalties of the law. If the jury believed that John Newton was insane they should acquit him on those grounds. However, if they believed that he was sane and that he had committed a considered act of violence that had caused the death of his wife then they should do their duty to their country and find him guilty.

The jury deliberated for only two or three minutes before finding John Newton ‘Guilty of the wilful murder of his wife, Sarah’.

The judge pronounced the prescribed death sentence on a bewildered looking John Newton, who looked around him as if expecting something else to happen. Only when the warders began to remove him from the dock did he begin to react to his sentence, fighting and struggling and begging the court not to kill him. It took considerable force to remove him from court and, for some minutes after his departure, his desperate cries and entreaties for mercy continued to echo through the courtroom.

Forty-year-old Newton was executed at Shrewsbury on 24 March 1823. However, his death was not the final episode in the case of Sarah Newton as, in June 1823, Mr Whitcombe, the coroner who had conducted her inquest, was charged with malpractice.

It was alleged that, on arriving at the farm to conduct the proceedings, he had a private interview with John Newton and that this had swayed his judgement. Whitcombe had not arranged for George Edwards to attend the inquest, even though he was a material witness, who was alluded to many times during the proceedings. Furthermore, he had allowed improper interference from a magistrate, Mr Whitmore, who was also John Newton’s landlord. He had refused to allow the jury to inspect Sarah Newton’s body and had also dismissed half the jury because he considered the case to be trifling. Finally, he had induced the jury to find a ‘nugatory verdict’ after first having attempted to persuade them to find that death had occurred ‘by visitation of God.’

Whitcombe offered an explanation for all the charges against him. His interview with Newton had been accidental – he had not known him and had exchanged a few remarks with him in passing. Edwards had never been proposed to him as a witness and, with regard to Mr Whitmore, Whitcombe believed that the man’s experience and local knowledge were highly valuable to the proceedings and had therefore allowed him to participate in the inquest.

The jury had viewed the body, but only after the post-mortem examination, when it was covered by a sheet, so that only the face was visible. Any member of the jury could have lifted the sheet had he so desired, but the coroner had not insisted that they viewed the body in its entirety in order to spare their feelings.

Whitcombe had dismissed twelve members of the jury, but had not done so until Mr Coley had stated that it was impossible to determine the cause of the bleeding. It had been a cold, wet day and, after consulting with Mr Whitmore, the coroner had thought it futile to keep jury members away from their homes. Finally, Whitcombe denied trying to influence the jury in any way.

At a preliminary hearing, it was decided that Whitcombe should stand trial at the next county assizes, charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice for his own private gain. The trial took place in July 1823, with Mr Baron Hullock presiding.

All the witnesses who had attended the original inquest were reassembled to testify, including Mr Coley, the surgeon who had inspected the body at the inquest in the presence of the coroner. He stated that Whitcombe’s inspection of the body was only perfunctory and that the coroner seemed to have already formed the unshakeable opinion that the deceased died from ‘flooding’, contrary to Mr Coley’s own opinion. Whitcombe had also suggested several times that Sarah Newton’s injuries might have resulted from a fall over a stile, the implication being that this explanation had been offered to him by John Newton, with whom he certainly had a private interview prior to the start of the inquest.

Whitcombe had made a grave error of judgement in allowing Mrs Newton’s body to be dissected before it had been inspected by the jury and had been unwise in allowing Mr Whitmore to play such a large part in the proceedings, given that Whitmore had a long association with the Newton family, which was described as ‘almost familial.’

The jury at Whitcombe’s trial found him ‘Guilty of a gross violation of his duty’, although they added a rider to say that they had found no evidence that he had accepted a bribe. In view of the fact that Whitcombe had now retired from his post as coroner he escaped punishment for his transgressions.

2

‘I HAVE THE TRUTH AT MY TONGUE’S END, BUT I DARE NOT SPEAK IT’

Bridgnorth, 1823

On 21 September 1823, Jonathan and Louisa Davies were enjoying a quiet Sunday morning at home in Bridgnorth, when the peace was suddenly shattered by the sound of a woman’s piercing screams coming from the cottage adjoining theirs. Louisa immediately went next door to see if she could help.

She found several people at the house, including Richard Overfield and his wife, who was clutching her three-month-old baby boy to her breast. The baby, named Richard after his father, appeared to be in agony and was struggling so violently that Mrs Overfield was having difficulty keeping him on her lap. As Louisa Davies watched, Mrs Overfield bent over and slipped her tongue into the baby’s mouth, saying that there was some bitter-tasting substance there that was making her own mouth smart.

‘Dick, what have you done to my child?’ she asked her husband, to which Richard Overfield nonchalantly replied that he had done nothing to harm it. In fact, quite the contrary – he had actually just rescued the baby, as, having come into the room and found a black cat sucking the infant’s breath away, he had knocked the cat off the child.

Mrs Overfield scooped up her baby and ran with him to the home of Mr Hall, the Bridgnorth surgeon. She arrived so distressed and out of breath that, for a few moments, she was unable to tell Hall’s assistant Mr Edward Spry the purpose of her visit. Eventually, she pointed to her son’s mouth and told Mr Spry to taste it, which he did, finding it to have a pungent, acidic taste.

Bridgnorth in 1927. (Author’s collection)

When he examined the baby, Spry found that its lips were white and rather shrivelled, with small blisters on the inside of the mouth and the tongue. He concluded that the baby had somehow swallowed acid and, from its taste, he identified the substance as sulphuric acid, otherwise known as oil of vitriol.

Realising the seriousness of the child’s condition, he immediately called for Mr Hall and the two doctors agreed that the best course of treatment was magnesia in water to neutralise the acid, followed by alternating drinks of diluted gruel and barley water.

Mrs Overfield left with the baby and Mr Spry followed her home almost immediately. When he reached her house, he found the room full of neighbours, one of whom had the child on her lap and was struggling to administer the magnesia he had just prescribed. Spry began to question Richard Overfield about what had happened, asking him if he had given the baby any food or medicine, either deliberately or by mistake. Overfield denied giving the baby anything at all, insisting that all he had done was to knock the cat off the baby.

‘Where is the cat now?’ asked Spry. Overfield replied that it had gone out. Spry asked a neighbour to go out and find the animal and was soon presented with a black cat, which Overfield assured him was the one that had been sucking away the baby’s breath. Spry examined the animal, thoroughly checking its paws and coat and finding nothing unusual. He inserted his little finger into the cat’s mouth then tasted it, but could detect no trace of the acid that he had tasted on the child.

Spry then informed Overfield that he believed the baby had been given oil of vitriol and asked him if there was any in the house. Overfield told him that there wasn’t and denied even knowing what oil of vitriol was. Spry explained some of the common household uses of oil of vitriol, such as cleaning brass and making blacking, but Overfield continued to deny ever having heard of it.

Next Spry examined the baby again, paying particular attention to its clothes. The child’s frock was made from dyed cotton, which, Spry knew, would turn red when it came into contact with acid. There were two or three small red spots on the front of the garment and, when Spry touched his tongue to them, he tasted the same bitter taste. There was a similar spot on the front of Mrs Overfield’s dress, where the child’s lips had apparently made contact with the material there, but no red spots on her husband’s clothing.

By now, the child’s condition was obviously deteriorating rapidly and Spry went back to fetch Mr Hall. By the time Hall returned, the child was foaming at the mouth and seemed incapable of swallowing. He weakened gradually until, at three o’clock that afternoon, he finally died.

Mrs Overfield was understandably beside herself with grief and her neighbours took turns staying with her. On the day after the baby’s death, she suddenly fainted and, when she was brought round, her neighbour Louisa Davies escorted her into the garden for a breath of fresh air. The end of the garden was fenced off with palings, which divided it from a communal cattle fold, used by many of the local people. As Louisa Davies neared the fence, she happened to glance through a gap in the palings and spotted a small phial on the other side. She reached through the fence and picked it up.

The phial was corked and contained about a teaspoonful of black liquid. When Louisa removed the cork and sniffed the contents, she instantly recoiled from the strong, acidic odour. She immediately contacted the police and, on the arrival of PC Edward Goodall, handed the little bottle into his keeping. Goodall took the bottle straight to Mr Spry and Mr Hall, who removed a few drops of the liquid contents, then gave it back to the policeman. On analysis, the liquid was found to be oil of vitriol.

A post-mortem examination was conducted on the dead infant by Mr Hall, accompanied by Mr Dugard, a physician from Shrewsbury. When the child’s body was opened, almost a pint of bloody fluid ran from it, which was collected and retained for testing. It was later shown to be oil of vitriol and was present in sufficient quantity to constitute a fatal dose for the baby. The child’s stomach was corroded and blackened, the stomach walls having the consistency of wet brown paper. The gullet was similarly destroyed and the inside of the child’s mouth and its tongue were a dull white in colour.

The child had obviously been fed sulphuric acid and the most likely suspect was Richard Overfield. When police interviewed his neighbour on the other side, an elderly woman called Mary Nichols, she told them that, on the morning of 21 September, she had seen Overfield come out of his house and walk down the garden. At the bottom of the garden, he briefly stooped down before getting up and returning to the house. Mary Nichols pointed out to the police the spot where she had seen Overfield bending – it was exactly the same place from which Louisa Davies had retrieved the poison bottle.