Doctor Crippen: The Infamous London Cellar Murder of 1910 (18 page)

It was the judge’s opinion that ‘the fact that Dr Crippen has lied on material points in this case is a very important matter for your consideration’. Another ‘very serious matter’ was why, if Cora had left Crippen on 1 February, did she not take her jewellery and furs with her?

As to the matter of whether Cora Crippen was still alive, Alverstone thought there were two problems with this. Firstly, how could Crippen have written the mourning letters ‘except with the knowledge that the wife could not appear? Friends in America, gone to America, friends at home making inquiries; put off, hoodwinked – we need not care about the dates, but hoodwinked in a disgraceful way by mourning black-edged paper, and so forth. Do not consider it from the point of view of taste. Consider it from the point of view of upon which side the truth lies. If you come to the conclusion that the game was so enormously dangerous that Dr Crippen could not have possibly carried it out if he thought his wife might appear again, you will ask yourselves, can you believe the story that his wife left him on 1st February.’

Cora might even have come forward herself: ‘The man was arrested, as you know, in consequence of the agency of this new invention, wireless telegraphy; there is no doubt about that; it is a matter that could not have been established but for that invention; that part is common knowledge; he is arrested in Canada, and then the story is known all over the world. It is a very serious suggestion to make to you, as it is made by the counsel for the defence, that Belle Elmore may still be alive. If Belle Elmore is alive, is it possible to think that this has not come to her knowledge? Does that man in the dock mean to suggest that so bad is this woman who was his wife for eighteen years, and whom, apart from her being angry and bad tempered, he does not make any serious complaint against – that she is so mean and so abominably wicked as to allow this man to stand his trial in the dock without making any communication or anything of the kind? That is what you have got to consider in this part of the case.’

After a brief adjournment Alverstone continued his summing up. He addressed the issues of how long the remains had been buried, saying that ‘perhaps the most important thing is the pyjama jacket’. Were the remains those of Cora Crippen? Alverstone said ‘that they are the remains of a woman now is really not seriously disputed’, as they were partially clothed with a woman’s vest and found with hair curlers. There were suggestions that it was Cora Crippen on account of the hair colouring and pyjama top but the evidence was ‘not so certain’ as was the evidence suggesting the remains were those of a woman.

Alverstone described the alleged scar on the piece of skin as ‘the battleground in this case’. ‘Now is that a scar or not?’ he asked, before warning the jury that ‘in order to satisfy you that it is not Cora Crippen, the defence must have satisfied you that there is no scar there. Coupled with the pyjama and the camisole and the combinations and the vests, you have to ask yourselves have you any doubt that that is the body of Cora Crippen?’

The penultimate point was ‘what was the cause of death, who put that body there, was it the same person who killed her or not?’ Alverstone thought that the jury would ‘be of the opinion that the person who caused the death of Cora Crippen took steps to get rid of the body. That is the natural thing a man would do who had committed a great crime.’ If she had not been poisoned, could the jury account for her death by any natural cause? The defence had not put forward an alternative suggestion to hyoscine poisoning, so the only explanation of her death was that ‘some one gave Belle Elmore hyoscine, and she became unconscious, comatose, and died, and there was the dead woman in the house’.

Finally Alverstone addressed the jury on the subject of Crippen’s behaviour, which he considered to be ‘a most important part of the case’.

Now, you have had Inspector Dew’s statement put before you, and you heard it read more than once. The only important thing in Dew’s statement for the present consideration is, not the lies that the accused told, which he admits now were lies, namely, the letters and all the statements about his wife being dead – but the things he said were true were not consistent with the facts as proved. He was at trouble to show Inspector Dew the jewels, and those are the same that were found sewn in his undervest when he was arrested at Quebec; he was at trouble to show Dew that his wife must have taken the other jewels with her. Now, one has to make every allowance for a man in a difficult position; he says, ‘She had other jewellery, and must have taken that with her,’ but, when you are dealing with a man who is supposed to be speaking the truth, and who is asking you to believe that his wife had gone away, you cannot forget the fact that he had pawned a very considerable portion of that jewellery on 2nd February, the day after she disappeared, and on 9th February, seven days afterwards. He says, ‘I have never pawned or sold any jewellery belonging to her before or after I left her.’ He says afterwards, ‘I thought it was my property.’ It may be that that taken by itself may be so construed; it may be so understood; but the important thing is that he said that she had taken it with her and he follows that up by the statement about pawning. Then he says, and I suggest to you that it is one of the most important things, ‘I shall, of course, do all I can to get in touch with her and clear this matter up.’ Gentlemen, on that day he, with the assistance of Inspector Dew, drafts an advertisement offering a reward, to be published in the papers, to endeavour to find Belle Elmore. He never sent it. If he believed that his wife could be found, why should not he have sent it?

Alverstone then told the jury of ‘a test applied in these Courts’. That test was, ‘How did the man behave when the charge was brought against him?’ ‘You have it that, living there in the same name, carrying on his business, consorting with Ethel Le Neve for practically six months, the day after the inspector goes to his house he alters his name and flees – goes to Antwerp, appears under the name of Robinson, induces Le Neve to disguise herself as a boy, passes Le Neve off as his son, and endeavours to escape to Canada; and he would no doubt have got there but for Inspector Dew being able to catch him.’

When Dew arrested Crippen, the fugitive told his captor, ‘It is only fair to say she knows nothing about it.’ Alverstone wondered, ‘What did that “it” mean?’ The judge concluded by reiterating that ‘there has been ample opportunity for getting hold of Cora Crippen if she is really alive’.

After Lord Alverstone’s summing up the jury retired to consider their decision at 2.15 p.m. and returned just twenty-seven minutes later. They unanimously found Crippen guilty of murdering of his wife. Crippen maintained his composure and said, ‘I still protest my innocence.’

John De Villiers from the British Museum gave an eye-witness account of Crippen’s reaction when the sentence was passed:

On entering the dock to hear the verdict he took off a light overcoat, carefully folded it inside out and hung it over the dock rail; then pulled down his white linen cuffs and composed himself to listen. I should have regarded him as the least interested man in court. I have always wondered whether his demeanour was owing to absence of moral responsibility or to dope.
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Lord Alverstone passed the dread sentence:

Hawley Harvey Crippen, you have been convicted upon evidence, which could leave no doubt on the minds of any reasonable man, that you cruelly poisoned your wife, that you concealed your crime, you mutilated her body, and disposed piece-meal of her remains; you possessed yourself of her property, and used it for your own purposes. It was further established that as soon as suspicion was aroused you fled from justice, and took every measure to conceal your flight. On the ghastly and wicked nature of the crime I will not dwell. I only tell you that you must entertain no expectation or hope that you will escape the consequences of your crime, and I implore you to make your peace with Almighty God. I have now to pass upon you the sentence of the Court, which is that you be taken from hence to a lawful prison, and from thence to a place of execution, and that you be there hanged by the neck until you are dead, and that your body be buried in the precincts of the prison where you shall have last been confined after your conviction. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul!

The case had caused a sensation although, with perhaps the exception of the medical arguments, it had not been one of any great legal importance. Travers Humphreys admitted as much and his junior, Cecil Mercer, described it as a ‘dead case’, meaning that Crippen had never stood a chance. The evidence against Crippen was so overwhelming that the prosecution never bothered to call the man who delivered the lime to Crippen.
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One of the few things to impress Mercer about the trial was Tobin’s vigorous defence of his client. He thought Tobin ‘put up an excellent show. How he contrived to do it, I have no idea, but he appeared to have convinced himself of Crippen’s innocence.’
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Alverstone concurred, thinking that Crippen had been ‘ably defended’
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by Tobin while Marshall Hall’s senior clerk, Archibald Bowker, recalled ‘his conduct of the case was justly admired by the Temple’.
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The verdict had been pronounced and the world outside the walls of the Old Bailey was desperate to know it as soon as possible. Fleet Street reporter Joseph Meaney had secured a precious ticket to attend the trial on the last day. His editor issued him with three coloured handkerchiefs. Once the verdict was given, Meaney was instructed to wipe his nose with a red handkerchief for guilty, white for not guilty and blue for a disagreement among the jury. A colleague was waiting by a glass-panelled door to pass on the news. However, in all the excitement, Meaney pulled out all three handkerchiefs and waved them up and down, before remembering to blow his nose on the red one, thus alerting the world to the result.
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An important question remained unanswered. It was never established what had happened to Cora Crippen’s head, bones and other missing parts. A newspaper report mentioned mysterious visits made by Crippen to the neighbourhood of Regent’s Canal. On each occasion he had taken a heavy bag with him.
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Doctor Pepper made a passing remark about a limb found in the River Thames at Greenwich, but nothing conclusive came of this. Oddie thought Crippen had dismembered Cora in the bath and disposed of her head and bones piecemeal at night in the canal or River Thames.
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One theory was that Crippen had disposed of Cora’s head in a bag over the side of the cross-channel steamer when he and Le Neve had gone to Dieppe in March. Melville Macnaghten thought this was the likeliest explanation and admitted that it is what he would have done had he been in Crippen’s position.
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Le Neve refuted this theory, claiming they had only taken two small handbags with them which were barely big enough for their luggage and that they had sailed during the day when Crippen might have been spotted throwing a bulky package overboard.
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The Lord Chief Justice had matters of a less weighty nature to deal with after leaving the Old Bailey. A keen billiards player, he had agreed to present a trophy to the winner of a tournament final between Melbourne Inman and Tom Reece. Inman won, leaving Reece to ruefully quip, ‘I think the Lord Chief should have presented the cup to Crippen and passed sentence on Inman!’
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When Dr Crippen asked me to disguise myself and run away with him, instinct ought to have told me there was something terribly wrong.

Ethel Le Neve,
Thomson’s Weekly News

My innocence I felt sure must be established. I told myself that I was guiltless of any crime, and that no jury could dare to convict me.

Ethel Le Neve,
Thomson’s Weekly News

The curious thing about Ethel Le Neve’s trial is that it was not meant to have happened. Richard Muir thought that the judge would ask him what evidence he had to establish Le Neve as an accessory after the fact in the murder of Cora Crippen. Muir ‘would be bound to say that he had no sufficient evidence in support of that charge’. An official from the Director of Public Prosecutions’ office noted, ‘I was strongly disposed to agree with his view, on the ground that the great point was to secure a conviction of Crippen, and that the result of the proceedings against Le Neve was of very little importance, especially as it appeared to be improbable that two trials would in fact be held’.

Cecil Mercer agreed with Muir. ‘Our case against her was, of course, very thin. We had next to nothing at all. I mean, we could not prove that, either before or after, she was aware of the crime. Naturally enough we didn’t press the case. Crippen was what we wanted, and he was in the bag.’
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For whatever reason, Le Neve’s trial did go ahead and Muir had to do the best he could. While Muir knew he had not got the evidence to prove that Le Neve was guilty, he may have suspected she was. When Dr Crippen had been sentenced to death, Muir made the enigmatic statement, ‘Full justice has not yet been done.’
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With Dr Crippen awaiting his appointment with the hangman, Ethel Le Neve stood trial at the Old Bailey on Tuesday 25 October 1910. She would have been found guilty if the jury could be satisfied that she had helped Crippen escape, knowing that he was a murderer.

Once again Richard Muir, Travers Humphreys and Samuel Oddie were the counsel for the Crown, but Le Neve had a different team defending her from that which Crippen had. Appearing for her defence was Winston Churchill’s best friend, Frederick Edwin Smith. Popularly known as ‘F. E.’, he was

strikingly handsome, six feet one inch in height, of a distinguished figure, slightly marred by sloping shoulders. His clothes, although not in any one particular out of the ordinary, gave the impression that he was over-dressed. The hat worn on the back of his head, the red flower in his button-hole, the very long cigar always carried in his mouth, made him a ready subject for the caricaturist.’
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