Great Train Crimes: Murder and Robbery on the Railways (10 page)

After Mapleton’s disappearance he had initially gone to his sister’s house in Liverpool Road, Islington. He then went to Smith Street, on 30 June, explaining that he was an engraver and needed peace and quiet. He had called himself Mr Park and said that he was from Liverpool. The landlady, Mrs Bickers, was unsuspecting and did not read the newspapers. He had paid her 6s a week and a deposit of 3s 6d, and had not gone out in the daytime until his arrest.

The trial at the Maidstone Assizes took place on 4–8 November. Mapleton pleaded not guilty. Yet evidence of his guilt was strong. On 21 June, at Mr Creek’s pawnbrokers on High Street, Borough, the assistant Mr Adams had been pledged a small revolver. The young man who had pledged the weapon gave his name as William Lee, of Southampton Street, Peckham. Between 11 and 12 on 27 June, the same man redeemed the weapon. When Adams was shown a number of men in Lewes Gaol, he was able to identity ‘William Lee’, who was none other than Mapleton. Mapleton could have easily have reached London from Wallington by train, catching the 10.49, reaching there at 11.20, or the 11.23, arriving at 11.53.

He had also defrauded a shopkeeper earlier on the day of the murder. He was in debt to one Mr Ellis, a Croydon stationer, to the tune of £1 7s 6d. In order to meet this debt, on the morning of the murder, he gave Ellis’s assistant two Hanoverian medals which he pretended were sovereigns (gold coins worth £1 each), and took 13s 6d in exchange.

There was much evidence to show that Mapleton was deeply in debt. He had on his person, when arrested, a number of pawnbrokers’ tickets. He had pawned coats and his watch as well as the aforesaid gun.

Mapleton was found to be a liar. He told the police that the reason for his visit to Brighton was to see one Mrs Nye-Chart, lessee of Brighton theatre. She did not know of him and was unaware of any reason why he would have business with her.

Mapleton’s defence was that there was no reason why he would know Gold had much money with him, because he did not know him. They also said that Gold was a powerfully built man and that a puny specimen such as Mapleton could not have overpowered him. Finally, why should Mapleton commit one felony in the morning and then murder in the afternoon? It was also stated that the real killer was the third man who Mapleton declared was in the same carriage as he and Gold, and that this unknown man could have left the train as it slowed down before arriving at the station where Mapleton alighted.

Yet the jury was unconvinced and retired for a mere ten minutes before declaring their verdict. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. Mapleton dramatically declared in court, ‘The day will come when you will know that you have murdered me.’ Meanwhile, he was returned to Lewes gaol, accompanied by two warders on a train from Maidstone, which was half an hour late. His family and friends presented a memorial to the Home Secretary to plead for a reprieve, on the grounds of insanity, and that he should therefore have been sent to Broadmoor. To strengthen this case, Mapleton confessed to the murder of one Lieutenant Roper at Chatham Barracks on 11 February 1881. A relative, Mrs Clayton, visited him in prison.

On 24 November, the murder weapon was found, quite by chance. A platelayer was working on the Brighton line and found the pistol. It was a four-shooter and was identified by the pawnbroker as that pledged by Mapleton on 21 June and redeemed on 27 June. This evidence was not necessary, but it neatly rounded off the case. The memorial in favour of the condemned man was turned down and his confession to the previous murder was seen as merely a fabrication. The end came on 29 November and, inside Lewes gaol, Mapleton was hanged. Despite the fact there was once great interest in his fate, very few people bothered to turn up outside the prison at the time of the execution. In any case, all they would have seen was the raising of the black flag.

‘I do not know what I did it for. I must have been mad. I had no cause.’

Mrs Rhoda King was the middle-aged wife of Thomas, a printer employed in the Ordnance Survey Department at Southampton. They lived in Exmoor Road, Southampton, and both were aged 54 in 1901. On 17 January 1901, she took the train from Southampton to Waterloo on the London and South Western line (the same line as travelled by Rebecca Dickinson 26 years earlier) in order to visit her daughter-in-law, who lived in Battersea, and who was unwell. She boarded a third class compartment on the 11.15 from Southampton West, which was scheduled to arrive at Waterloo just after half past one. It should have been a most ordinary journey.

It was not to be. At the train’s first stop, which was at Eastleigh, a well-built young man entered the compartment. Mrs King was impressed by his smart appearance, as he was so well dressed and tall. He had dark brown hair and grey/hazel eyes. They said few words to one another. The man was George Henry Parker, born on 8 November 1877 (and so now aged 23) at Studley, Warwickshire, and he was a former Royal Marine. Had Mrs King been very observant she might have noticed a tattoo on the back of his hand – a heart and anchor, with clasped hands.

The train made its next stop at Winchester at noon. William Pearson who appeared to be, as indeed he was, a prosperous middle-aged farmer (aged 45), then joined the other two. He sat opposite Mrs King, facing the engine. He lived at Christchurch Road, Winchester, and was married with two children. Well-known in local agricultural circles, he farmed Winnal Manor Farm, near Winchester. His brother was the vice chairman of Winchester Rural District Council. Pearson was travelling to London to cash a large cheque at a London bank.

None of the three knew each other. There was little conversation,either. However, Parker did ask Pearson for some money, but the latter refused him. Pearson read his newspaper and then began to doze. It was when the train was nearing its destination that the crisis of the day was to erupt. Mrs King later recalled:

After passing Surbiton station, I turned my back to … [Parker] … to look out of the window, I had moved my seat to face the engine. About the time the train passed Surbiton … [Parker] … entered the lavatory chamber. I was standing up … just after he came out of the lavatory. Then I heard a ‘bang’ like a fog signal. I remember hearing two reports, and then I felt blood rushing down my face. Then I begged … [Parker] … not to do it again.

Parker had just shot both Pearson and Mrs King.

She exclaimed to Parker, ‘My God! What have you done? Why did you do it?’ ‘I did it for money. I want some money. Do you have any?’ Looking in her purse, she found a shilling and gave it to him. He took it and put it in his pocket.

It was only then that she looked at the other occupant of the compartment. Pearson was doubled up in the corner, and there was an ominous mark on his forehead. He had been shot dead. Parker held a smoking revolver. He then rifled through the dead man’s clothes, taking his watch and chain, together with any money he could find, counting it and putting it away. Mrs King could stand no more of the unfolding horror. She screamed. Parker then turned towards her and threatened her with death unless she quietened down. He then threw a coin at her and said, ‘Here is a sovereign; stop your noise.’

She said that it was of no use to her and she did not want it. Parker then said to her, ‘I am sorry I shot you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ ‘Why did you do it?’ she answered. ‘Well I wanted money. I was wicked, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I am going to Liverpool tonight to start for South Africa and I wanted money.’

Parker must have put the gun down, for he then said, ‘What have I done with that damned thing? I must not keep it about me. I have got a mind to put it in his hand and then they will think he did it himself.’ ‘If I were you, I would throw it out of the window.’

He looked out of the window, but saw some workmen there and they would see the act. Mrs King suggested, ‘Wait till you get a little further on.’

He did so as the train was now beginning to slow down as it began to pull into Vauxhall. Flinging the revolver out of the window (it landed on the metals near Nine Elms Goods Yard – when it was found four of the six chambers were still loaded), Parker pushed Pearson’s corpse to one side and opened the door of the compartment before the train had come to a stop. Before then, he had elicited a promise from Mrs King that she would not speak against him.

Once on platform 2, he moved quickly. He gave his ticket to Alfred Gibbons, the ticket collector. It was actually Pearson’s. Doubtless to his distress, he heard Mrs King’s voice behind him. She shouted, ‘Stop that man – he has murdered someone in that carriage.’ Meanwhile, Parker bolted down the stairs, followed by several porters. He managed to escape from the railway station and headed towards Vauxhall Bridge. Unfortunately for him, there was a police constable there on traffic control duty (PC Thomas Fuller). He joined in the chase. Parker realizing the bridge was blocked, ran towards the Southern Metropolitan Gas Works, over a small bridge over a creek in the yard and hid in a coke truck in the retort shed. His pursuers surrounded the shed. Fifteen minutes later, Parker could not stand the heat any longer and gave himself up. He was taken in a cab to Larkhall Lane Police Station, Clapham.

He was subsequently taken to Holloway prison; en route the crowd booed and yelled at him. When he was searched, he was found to have a purse with £5 in gold, a game licence and a leather cigar case, both of which had been stolen from Pearson. Apart from that, his belongings included a gun licence, dice, a pawnbroker’s ticket for a watch and a soldier’s discharge papers. He was charged with both murder and attempted murder.

More information was found out about Parker. He was the eldest of eight children, but aged 14 he had been sent to a reformatory. Later his parents split up, with his mother going to Birmingham to work in a cycle shop. He was a clerk until he joined the Royal Marine Artillery in London on 12 March 1896, perhaps because his brother was in the Royal Engineers. For the first three years in the service, both his character and ability were rated ‘Good’ or ‘Very Good’. His conduct and his proficiency with weaponry was also highly rated. Yet in 1900 he was ‘discharged with ignominy’, due to his being caught stealing. Enlisting again, later that year at Gosport, under the surname of Hill, his character was stated as ‘Bad’ and it was noticed that letters had been going missing
from the barracks. It was found that Parker was the thief, trying to find money in his comrades’ letters. He was arrested, discharged at the end of the year, and spent 21 days in prison. He then went to London, returning to Portsmouth with some jewellery and looking prosperous. He was suspected of having been involved in a jewellery theft at the Lyceum Theatre. He then disappeared. Apparently he had written to his father, saying he had a job as a barman.

He now wrote a letter to his father, trying to explain his actions: ‘I do not know what I did it for. I must have been mad. I had no cause.’ He explained that his father broke up the family home while his son was serving in the army and this had contributed to his son’s current difficulties. Parker had other problems; he had spent £9 in Eastleigh and Southampton with a young woman from Portsmouth, who he now thought might kill herself. He wrote, ‘But there is one girl in Portsmouth whom I love better than gold and she is not good looking. But I love her dearly and she does me. I promised that I would fetch her away from home next week and she is not happy there.’

The girl in question was Mrs Elizabeth Sarah Rowland, wife to a private soldier. Parker claimed to not know of her marital status. In the days prior to Parker’s journey to London, the two went around together, spending money and going to the theatre. This resulted in Parker being left almost penniless. They said their farewells in Eastleigh on 17 January.

He also wrote to Mrs Pearson, expressing his regret and sorrow at his shooting her husband:

I am really truly sorry and I feel for you and your husband’s brother. I am truly sorry and repentant for having in an evil moment allowed myself to be carried away into committing the offence which I am now being charged … I had no intention of shooting your husband. No, none whatever. I purchased the revolver at Southampton with the intention of shooting the girl whom I have been going out with and myself. She was unhappy at home, and so was I. I shot your husband on the spur of the moment.

He denied ever asking Pearson for any money and said that Mrs King lied when she said otherwise. After begging her forgiveness, and God’s, he went on to state that he deserved to die. He signed it ‘The Wretched Murderer of your husband’.

Mrs King, meanwhile, was sent to the Beatrice Ward in St Thomas’s Hospital. Her son, a quartermaster sergeant in the Royal Artillery based at Woolwich, later visited her. He was doubtless pleased to learn that she was making good progress. When her husband, a prominent freemason, heard that she had been shot, he had fainted at the news. The bullet had entered her left cheek and broke the jaw bone. However, it would not be a permanent injury and she later made a full recovery.

The inquest into Pearson’s death began on 21 January at Lambeth Coroner’s Court, presided over by Mr A Braxton Hicks. There was a crowd of 200–300 people outside the court, but Parker was not intimidated. Quite the reverse. He entered the court with head held high and a swinging gait. Sympathy was extended to the family of the deceased and to Mrs King. Due to her injury she could not be present at the hearing. James Pearson, one of the deceased’s brothers, had identified the corpse at the mortuary. He had last seen his brother on 15 January. The court was adjourned until all the witnesses could be present. In the mean time, all the jurors were bound over for £40 to attend it. Pearson was buried at Winchester on the same day.

On 11 February the inquest was concluded. Parker briefly attended the court, though he did not wish to. Few people were aware of his being there, so he was not shouted at by anyone on his arrival or departure. There was important new evidence given. William Cox worked in a gunsmith’s shop in Southampton. Between 10 and 11 on 17 January, he had sold a cheap revolver and ten cartridges for 7s 5d. A young man had bought them and Cox identified him as Parker by his photograph, but did not recognize the man himself when he arrived. He did not explain why he wanted the gun.