Not Guilty

by Christine Gardner

  The man, McDonald, did not put in an appearance, and it was feared he had levanted.

  A quantity of formal evidence was taken in his absence, his interests being watched by Mr Kirby. The woman was represented by Mr Luke Murphy, and Inspector Hannan appeared for the Crown.

  William Henry Sherrard, a Government surveyor, deposed to the measurements at the scene of the tragedy, a weatherboard villa known as ‘Braeside’, at the northern end of Don-street, a few doors from Webster-street, where that thoroughfare intersects Mount Korong-road.

  This witness submitted plans showing THE PRECISE SPOTS where the bodies of the slain children were found. Dolly’s was on the path in the garden; Ida’s, also outside, was nearer the street, and Eric’s was on a basement floor at the foot of the stairs.

  Dr James D. Boyd, who had made a post-mortem examination, said all the children had died from fractured skulls and lacerated brains, probably caused by blows from a tomahawk. There were also incised wounds, probably caused by a carving knife. The mother, Miss McCluskey, had four or five superficial scratches on her neck and wrists, which could have been caused by a knife. There was a smell of camphor in a glass.

  Other evidence, only important in a corroborative sense, was given by neighbours and a young man named Sidney Leggo; and as McDonald remained absent, THE POLICE DEPOSITIONS were proceeded with.

  After lunch the arrival of McDonald was announced, and he was asked by the Coroner to explain. He assumed a dazed demeanour, and led the Court to believe that he had wandered into the cemetery, where he had remained, in a position of semi-unconsciousness, beside the graves of his murdered off-spring. He had, he continued, wandered over miles of country in a SOMNAMBULISTIC CONDITION

  The Coroner decided to accept his hazy explanation, and he was allowed to occupy a seat in the court.

  His erstwhile concubine shuddered at the advent of the fellow in court. She seemed to crouch in her seat, and made a piteous dumb appeal to the gaol matron for protection. That lady responded. She changed her position, and, sitting between the couple, his McDonald from the distressed woman’s view.

  Detective Commons, Detective Currie, and Constable O’Callaghan then gave evidence, and McDonald was ultimately put INTO THE BOX.

  Miss McCluskey, who had recovered her presence of mind, listened to his utterances with evident interest, not unmixed with an expression of disgust.

  Finally, in reply to the Coroner, she murmured, ‘I have nothing to say,’ and she was formally committed for trial at the Supreme Court, Bendigo, on October 4, on a charge of murder.

  MCDONALD’S CAREER.

  After listening to the whole of the evidence submitted to the Coroner, and carefully noting the salient points, the ‘Truth’ pressman entered upon exhaustive independent investigations.

  He succeeded in collecting sufficient reliable data to warrant him in exposing and denouncing George McDonald as a moral monster.

  He is one of those creatures who has degenerated with advancing years.

  About a quarter of a century ago he was reputable and married.

  HE LIVED WITH HIS WIFE for more than a decade, and she bore him five children. Fifteen years ago they kept a ham and beef shop in Windsor, and it was from there that McDonald started out to farm at Ferntree Gully. He engaged a woman named Lillicrap as a housekeeper, and soon the tongue of scandal wagged. His wife was satisfied that he was living in adultery, and refused to have anything to do with him. She then started to rear her family of children, and HAD A HARD STRUGGLE to do so. McDonald let her bear the burden, content with his freedom.

  The lady, who now keeps a boarding-house at 395 Punt-road, Richmond, on being interviewed, declined to discuss a subject which was obviously painful to her.

  Afterwards a gentleman, who said he was her son-in-law, called upon ‘Truth’, and tendered the foregoing information for fear that Mrs McDonald, who is a good woman, should in any way be unwittingly represented.

  She is evidently well circumstanced, and is quite capable of living without the assistance of her depraved spouse. Her residence is a large square brick balconied-house, immediately next to the Salvation Army Training Home.

  SHE AND HER HUSBAND are seemingly about the same age – 50 years – and they are both excellently preserved.

  McDonald is of a light gingery complexion, and, if he has any silver streaks among the gold, they are not perceptible; but there is a contrast in that respect as regards Mrs McDonald. She is very grey, but has a profusion of hair, and a pleasant face. When asked if it were true that she and her husband had separated by mutual consent she declined to answer. She contented herself with remarking, ‘While he was with me Mr McDonald was A GOOD HUSBAND– more than that I will not say.

  The lady’s statement must, of course, be accepted – for what it is worth. ‘Truth’ has no desire to dispute her estimate of the father of her children – whilst he occupied his conjugal domicile.

  There is, however, no disputing the fact that, even assuming he had been an immaculate spouse in his youth, he degenerated into a wicked seducer and purring paramour subsequently.

  He had been engaged in the fruit preserving industry, and towards the end of 1899 or the beginning of 1900, he selected a block of land at South Sassafras, in the Dandenong Forest. He erected a house, and resided there with the before-mentioned Lillicrap as a housekeeper. The only member of his family who visited him was his son, a lad then 16 years of age.

  On an adjoining block resided a Mrs McCluskey, who had two daughters. The father, O. McCluskey, was in some other part of the State. One of the girls, Camellia, who is the perpetrator of the Don-street tragedy, was then 21 years of age. She was unusually prepossessing, and had an education above the average. She made the acquaintance of McDonald, who was apparently attracted by HER GIRLISH CHARMS, and spent several evenings in a most decorous way at her mother’s house.

  Soon afterwards the settlers, most of whom grow raspberries, gooseberries, and other small fruits, agreed to form a co-operative association.

  McDonald, who had expert knowledge, was the leading spirit of the movement, and he was appointed managing director.

  The concern was known as the Monbulk Fruitgrowers’ Co-operative Association, and a factory was opened at Upper Fern Tree Gully.

  McDonald furnished an office for himself, one article of furniture contained therein being the arm-chair which the unhappy Camellia battered with a tomahawk and attempted to incinerate in connection with the Don-street massacre. Why she concentrated so much attention on the chair will become apparent presently.

  McDonald engaged her as his bookkeeper and amanuensis. He drew her slowly but surely within HIS LECHEROUS TOILS just as the spider of the fable endeavoured to entice the fly into its webby parlour. Camellia was not as astute as the fly. She listened to the hypocrite’s sweet nothings, and she stayed with him in his office when other employees had departed. She sat with him on the fateful armchair, where billing and cooing was indulged in with the inevitable result. She returned to her home one evening no longer a virgin. The chair was the seat of the sweet dalliance. He had sworn to love and cherish her until parted by death, and she had reciprocated. There was an unhallowed consummation.

  In a small place like Fern Tree Gully improprieties cannot be screened, and the tongue of scandalous rumour wagged incessantly. Housekeeper Lillicrap disappeared from the scene, and there were disagreements in the McCluskey household. Camellia was advised to cease her acquaintance with the satyr who was luring her to THE BOTTOMMOST HELL, but all warnings fell on deaf ears. Since the plighted troth on the armchair she had become infatuated. She knew that he was a married man, and could not make her his wife; she knew also that he was old enough to be her father; but, like the moth attracted by meretricious light, she elected to singe her beauty and abandon herself. While the satyr was by her side she was too absorbed to think of her future. In fact, her infatuation was so intense that had she known for a certainty that she was ultimately to become as mud in th
e street, to be trampled and spat upon, she would not have forsaken the dissolute man who had robbed her of her chastity.

  Having estranged her from her home, and his housekeeper having departed, he sought accommodation at a local hotel. She stayed, as a lodger, at the same place.

  Ultimately the SCANDAL BECAME SO PRONOUNCED that the directors and shareholders of the co-operative association intervened. Then he removed to Camberwell, taking the girl with him. They lived together there as man and wife under the names of ‘Mr and Mrs McCluskey’. That was in 1905, and the girl manifested symptoms of motherhood. In 1906 they removed to Auburn, and posed as ‘Mr and Mrs McCutcheon.’ The eldest girl, Dorothy, was born at that place, and was registered by the mother under that name.

  After a stay of 12 months another move was made, and a residence at Burwood was occupied. Camellia again became pregnant, and it was arranged she should go to Box Hill for her confinement. In 1909 twins – Ida and Eric – were born, and in due course, Camellia RETURNED TO HER PARAMOUR at Burwood. She was in very delicate health, and, in fact, from the birth of the twins onward she faded and waned.

  The man who, on the armchair in the Monbulk office, had sworn to cherish her throughout life, began to tire of the invalid, and cast around his lecherous eyes for another victim to his insatiable lust, and poor Camellia commenced to ruefully recognise that the scene had changed.

  She was a naturally well-disposed girl, and, in happier circumstances, would have made a loyal wife and a loving mother. She had fallen though seduction, but she had aspirations towards rehabilitation. She always wore a gold wedding ring, and she hoped against hope that the day might sometime arrive when she might marry the father of her children. When she noticed the change in his demeanour – when she observed with a woman’s quick intuition that there was coldness where there had been warmth, she experienced all the mental torture and heart anguish which only women so placed can know.

  THE NEW LOVE.

  McDonald, while living at the places mentioned, continued to work at the Monbulk factory although he wished to get rid of the concern. The factory was removed to Burnley, and he took up his quarters at East Richmond. The forsaken Camellia and her bairns were then only visited at weekends. He had discovered a new love. Two women, named Mrs Wilson and Mrs Smith, were employed at the Burnley factory. Mrs Wilson was Mrs Smith’s mother, and the latter, who was quite young, had a little girl named Rosie.

  Mrs Smith proved to be quite a vivacious piece of goods. She had, she alleged, performed as a clog dancer at variety shows, and she knew how to make the most of her charms. She and the manager soon became fast friends, and Mrs Wilson appears to have looked on approvingly. A week end with Camellia and all the other evenings WITH THE NEW FLAME, Maudie Smith, and complaisant Mrs Wilson, suited the amorous McDonald admirably.

  According to Camellia, he became increasingly anxious to part with the place at Fern Tree Gully. He often said the business was falling off, and remarked that a firestick in the place would do good.

  She alleges that he ultimately BURNT IT DOWN, adding:- He told me he lit the fire in the jam-room with small thin cases that the tin used to arrive in, and oiled rags that they wiped the pulp tins with, and that he left his pony and jinker a few miles away from the place on the road, but pulled it into the shrub. He then walked along the road past the Club Hotel; then past Grimwood’s Hotel, up to the factory, and did not meet anybody. He said he set fire to the place between 1 and 2 a.m. After firing the place he went across Grimwood’s paddocks, and eventually got back to his pony and jinker. He said he walked about seven miles, and when about to start away he turned the pony round several times, so as not to be tracked. After getting away with his pony and jinker he drove straight along the road to East Burwood, and when passing my gate he continued on to a crossroad, where he turned the jinker round two or three times, to avoid discovery. He then came along to the house. He told me the house was insured in the Palatine Insurance Company, Queen-street, Melbourne, and he told me subsequently that the money was paid over, but not to the extent it was insured for. The Monbulk land and the remains of the fire was afterwards sold to Peacock and Co., and shortly afterwards the Monbulk business was sold at Burnley. He bought in some of the plant, utensils, and pulp of the Monbulk factory, at Burnley, which was shut down, and STARTED A FACTORY of his own at Capel-street, North Melbourne, taking his inamorata, Maudie Smith, and Mother Wilson with him.

  As regards Camellia, he took her to Doncaster, where he rented an orchard, and where they resided, with their three children, as ‘Mr and Mrs McDonald.’

  Camellia was now very unhappy. She had got wind of his new love. She had accused her paramour of unfaithfulness, and she had ‘performed’ with all the proverbial fury which is generated in a woman who is scorned, after having surrendered her virtue.

  He manifested a desire to clear out and desert her. He had rid himself of his Monbulk incubus, and he evidently wished to see the last of the girl he had wooed and won ON THE ARMCHAIR but who was now a faded flower.

  His opportunity arrived. He was offered a position by H.M. Leggo and Co., jam-makers, of Bendigo. He accepted it, and arrived in the golden city at the beginning of this year. He was paid a salary of 6 pounds per week, and was provided with a residence suitable for a grass widower.

  Within a fortnight Maudie Smith, her little child, and Mother Wilson arrived. They were provided with billets at Leggo’s factory. Maudie was established in the position of forewoman of the jam hands. She was also induced to board and lodge with McDonald.

  Camellia, who was now utterly distrustful of her paramour, repeatedly wrote asking to be allowed to join him in Bendigo. He gave her no satisfactory reply, so in March she packed up her belongings and arrived unexpectedly with her children.

  He made the best of the situation. He kept MAUDIE AND MOTHER WILSON in the background, and established a home for Camellia and the children in Forest-street.

  A few weeks later she learned that Mrs Smith and Mrs Wilson were employed at the factory. She became so absolutely miserable, and felt so forsaken, that she applied to the police for advice.

  Her mother had died, and she did not know the whereabouts of her father.

  At one time she decided to leave McDonald and earn a living for herself and bairns. She answered advertisements for employment, and was taken down by some of the advertising guide harpies who ‘Truth’ so often exposes.

  She opened her heart to Detectives Commons and Currie. She informed them of the true condition of her concubinage, and she made the statement concerning the burning of the Monbulk factory. She declared that her life was a misery owing to McDonald carrying on with Mrs Smith. She had followed him at night, and caught him with Mrs Smith and her mother at a house in Hargreaves-street. She had followed him to another house in McCrae-street, where they had moved. She had taken off her boots, got close to the house, and heard them talking about her. McDonald came out, caught her by the wrists, and led her away home, without her boots.

  IN HER DISTRESS on that occasion, she had bewailed her seduction; she had referred to the arm-chair, and she had produced a photograph which had been taken when she was a bright virgin girl.

  Poor creature! Her condition was deplorable. She had no redress – no legal claim, except through her children. A wife has rights which she can successfully enforce; a concubine is an outcast, subject to her paramour as a slave is to its master.

  For three months she was keeping the women Smith and Wilson under surveillance, and leading a life comparable to hell.

  In June last she sailed forth, ARMED WITH A RAZOR and attacked McDonald outside the factory. He was rescued by Sidney Leggo, and the women were dismissed from the firm’s employment. They left Bendigo, and Camellia considered she had won. She was deluded into the belief that she again had McDonald to herself, and that he would reform.

  She did not know what a double-dyed villain he really was.

  He rented another small villa in Sternberg-street, Kennin
gton, better known, perhaps, to old Bendigonians as Back Creek, and installed Mrs Smith there secretly.

  It was given out that he was a ‘Mr Russell,’ a furrier, and that Maudie was ‘Mrs Russell.’

  Camellia was not aware of this development until a few days before the tragedy. She ACCIDENTALLY MET MRS SMITH in Hargreaves-street, and accused McDonald of his shocking duplicity. He had no excuse to offer, except that mother Wilson was not with Maudie, but was working at Sutherland’s pickle and vinegar works at Richmond.

  That was poor consolation, as it was not the mother, but the daughter Maudie, who was the rival.

  THE TRAGIC CRISIS

  The crisis arrived on Sunday morning – a fortnight ago – when McDonald was in bed with Camellia. He arose early, and said he intended cycling to Woodstock. Camellia, remembering her meeting with Maud, knew that the fellow intended spending the day with his new mistress.

  She wept, and she stormed. She again referred to the ‘chair of seduction’; she spoke of her little bastard children; she appealed, and she threatened.

  McDonald turned a deaf ear, and treated her with silent contempt.

  She asked him to take her and her babies for drive with him to Woodstock. He never answered.

  He put three sovereigns on the table, and was going away without breakfast.

  ‘Are you not going to have breakfast?’ she asked.

  ‘You have given me all the breakfast I want,’ he replied satirically.

  ‘I will destroy myself and the children,’ she cried, and, snatching up the three sovereigns, she threw them after him.

  ‘It would be a good job if you cut your throat,’ he replied, as he gathered up his discarded gold pieces. ‘I wish you would do something.’

  ‘You be prepared for “something” when you come back tonight,’ she screamed in a frenzy.

  He wheeled his bicycle to the gate without saying another word, and went away.