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Updated: May 6, 2025
I found a seat on a chest near his hammock, and, telling him I was ready to attend to his narrative, he began: "'The first impression I have of home was when I was about five years old, and was surrounded by a little troop of brothers and sisters, for I can remember when there was seven healthy, happy children in my "boyhood's home." We lived at Feltham, Middlesex, in the pretty parsonage-house.
"Send everything on to Feltham Court, cards, letters, or anything." "Perfectly, sir," the man answered. "I hope you will have a pleasant time, sir." "Tell the cabman Liverpool Street," I ordered, and got in. We rolled out of the courtyard, and I drove all the way to Liverpool Street as though to catch my train.
Shortly afterwards Sub-Inspector Fred Murray came out from Blackall, bringing with him Sergeant Feltham, who formed the police station in a small building which I rented to them. There was only a log to which offenders were chained. One day Feltham went down to the store, leaving a prisoner chained up. It took three men to get him back to the lock-up.
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