When the guests had departed there was a marital row, Mrs Crippen accusing her husband of not having escorted old and ill Mr Martinetti upstairs to the lavatory, when he went there earlier that evening. ‘She abused me,’ said Crippen in his first statement to the police. ‘She said: “This is the finish of it – I won’t stand it any longer – I shall leave you tomorrow, and you will never hear of me again!’” She had said this so often, he continued, that ‘I did not take much notice of it. But she did say one thing which she had never said before, viz, that I was to arrange to cover up any scandal with our mutual friends and the Guild, the best way I could.’
A fortnight before this, on 17 January, Crippen had ordered five grains of a narcotic poison called hyoscine (for homoeopathic purposes) from a New Oxford Street chemist’s, Lewis and Burrows. They had had none in stock, but had been able to deliver the crystals on 19 January. He had signed the poisons register.
The morning after the dinner, on Tuesday, 1 February, Crippen called at the Martinettis’ flat in Shaftesbury Avenue to enquire about Mr Martinetti’s health. ‘How is Belle?’ enquired Mrs Martinetti. ‘Oh, she’s all right,’ came the reply. On 2 February and 9 February, Crippen pawned some of his wife’s jewellery in Oxford Street for £195, more than he used to earn from Munyon’s in a year.
On the afternoon of 2 February Mrs Crippen failed to appear for the usual meeting of the Music-Hall Ladies Guild, held every Wednesday at Albion House in a room loaned by Dr Crippen. Miss le Neve, however, appeared with two letters signed by Belle Elmore, but not in her handwriting, which said that she had been obliged to go to America because of a relative’s illness and would have to resign from the Guild.
Crippen said later that Miss le Neve spent the night with him in 39 Hilldrop Crescent. She stayed other nights and he began giving her his wife’s jewellery and some of her clothes.
Belle’s friends thought it odd when they did not hear from her – not a single letter or a postcard. They were amazed when on 20 February, at the dinner and ball organised by the Guild for their Benevolent Fund at the Criterion (each ticket cost half a guinea), they saw Dr Crippen with Miss le Neve, who was wearing a brooch that had belonged to Belle. Later they saw the typist wearing Belle’s furs. Their anxious requests for news about Belle and her address were disposed of by Crippen, who said she was ‘right up in the wilds of the mountains of California’. Later they were told that she was seriously ill with double pneumonia. Meanwhile, on 12 March, Miss le Neve moved permanently into 39 Hilldrop Crescent, sometimes posing as the housekeeper, although she had now acquired a French maid.
Since the beginning of February she had in fact spent few nights in her own lodgings, and before she left them on 12 March she gave her landlady, Mrs Jackson, articles of clothing, including six coats, six skirts, five blouses, three nightgowns, stockings and hats, telling her that Mrs Crippen had gone to America. According to Mrs Jackson, Ethel le Neve had been much depressed and in tears in January. ‘Very tired and strange,’ said Mrs Jackson. She enquired why. ‘It’s Miss Elmore,’ Ethel had confessed. ‘When I see them go away together it makes me realise what my position is … She’s been threatening to go away … and when she does that the doctor’s going to divorce her and marry me.’ She was much more cheerful at the beginning of February, ‘Really happy’. When Mrs Jackson jokingly asked her if someone had died and left her money, Ethel answered that ‘someone’ had gone to America.
On Wednesday, 16 March, Dr Crippen gave his landlord three months’ notice of leaving the house. On Thursday, 24 March, he and Ethel, calling themselves Mr and Mrs Crippen, went to Dieppe for five days over Easter. The same morning, Mrs Martinetti received a telegram sent from Victoria Station: ‘Belle died yesterday at six o’clock … Shall be away a week. Peter.’ It is thought that during the crossing to France, Belle’s head, in a weighted handbag, was dropped overboard.
During their absence a notice of her death appeared in The Era on 26 March. When the couple returned, Peter set about dealing with mourning friends, calls and letters of condolence. He said his wife had been cremated in America, and in May told people that he had her ashes at home.
Crippen must have felt, after three months had passed, that he and Ethel were secure, for on 18 June he arranged with his landlord to stay on at Hilldrop Crescent until 29 September. But ten days later Mr and Mrs Nash, who were friends of Belle and had recently returned from America where Mrs Nash had been touring the music halls as Lil Hawthorne, called and questioned Crippen about his wife’s demise. Dissatisfied with the little doctor’s answers, Mr Nash communicated his unease on 30 June to a friend of his, Detective Superintendent Froest at Scotland Yard, who was in charge of the newly formed Serious Crimes squad. Chief Inspector Walter Dew was asked to investigate further, and on Friday, 8 July visited Hilldrop Crescent with DS Mitchell.
There they encountered a French maid and Ethel le Neve, who was wearing one of Mrs Crippen’s brooches. Ethel said she was the housekeeper; she agreed to accompany the policemen to Albion House, where Crippen worked. The three of them went by omnibus, and when they reached the building Ethel ran up the stairs to the third-floor office to let the doctor know who had come to see him. Having heard the reason for Dew’s visit, Crippen said: ‘I suppose I had better tell the truth.’ ‘Yes, that would be better,’ Dew remarked. Crippen continued: ‘The stories I have told about her death are untrue. As far as I know, she is still alive.’ In between teeth-pulling and making up prescriptions, assisted by Miss le Neve, the doctor dictated a lengthy statement. It took five hours, with a break for lunch with Dew in an Italian restaurant. The doctor said that Mrs Crippen had left him for another man and that she had disappeared by the time he came back from work on 1 February. He said: ‘I sat down to think it over as to how to cover up her absence without any scandal.’
At the conclusion of the statement and of the afternoon, Crippen and his assistant-housekeeper accompanied the two police officers back to Hilldrop Crescent, and obligingly allowed the house to be searched. Both Crippen and Ethel watched from a doorway as Dew cast his eye over the coal-cellar. The only thing that seemed odd to him was the fact that Mrs Crippen had left a large quantity of her flashy gowns behind. He left the house, however, fairly satisfied that nothing was amiss, although he wondered why Crippen had gone to such lengths to hide the alleged reason for his wife’s disappearance, especially as he seemed to be making the most of her absence with Ethel le Neve.
Over the weekend the inspector pondered, remained unperturbed, and then returned to Albion House on Monday, 11 July for a few more routine enquiries. He was astonished to hear from Crippen’s partner, Dr Rylance, that on the previous Saturday Rylance had received a letter from Crippen instructing him to wind up his business affairs and household accounts. Wrote Crippen: ‘In order to escape trouble I shall be obliged to absent myself for a time.’ Dew learned that Crippen had also sent the office boy out to buy some clothing suitable for a boy.
Dew returned to Hilldrop Crescent. It was occupied by the French maid, whom the police later sent back to France. Of Crippen and Ethel there was no sign. In fact, at that moment they were in Belgium, staying at the Hotel des Ardennes in Brussels, where they remained for eight days. Travel between countries was easier back then – no passports were required.
In London, Crippen’s house and garden were searched again and again, on 12 and 13 July, and at last Dew’s persistence produced a result beyond anything he expected. Prodding the coal-cellar floor with a poker, he discovered that some of the bricks were loose. He and DS Mitchell prized them out. Underneath was a stinking heap of human flesh: viscera, skin, and hair, but no bones. Dew and Mitchell revived themselves with Crippen’s brandy. They had found all that remained of Belle Elmore.
The medical experts who examined the remains were Dr Pepper and Dr Bernard Spilsbury, the latter then aged thirty-three. His consequent appearance in court marked the first occasion he would give evidence for the prosecution in a major murder trial. He a
nd Pepper concluded that the remains had been part of a stout female, who bleached her hair and had had an abdominal operation, apparently when her ovaries were removed: there was a scar. Traces of hyoscine, enough to kill her, were found in various organs. Taken orally in sweet tea or coffee, the hyoscine would have caused delirium, then drowsiness, leading to unconsciousness within an hour, and ending within twelve hours in paralysis and death.
On 16 July, a warrant was issued for the arrest of Crippen and Ethel le Neve, who were wanted for ‘murder and mutilation’. The police bill, written by Dew, described Ethel as being 5 ft 5 in, pale-faced, with light brown hair, large grey-blue eyes. ‘Nice-looking, pleasant lady-like appearance. Quiet, subdued manner, talks quietly, looks intently when in conversation.’
On Wednesday, 20 July the SS Montrose sailed from Antwerp bound for Quebec. Two hours later, the ship’s commander, Captain Kendall, became suspicious about two of his saloon passengers – Mr John Philo Robinson and his sixteen-year-old son John – who both came on board in brown suits, soft grey hats, and white canvas shoes – Crippen had shaved off his moustache. The couple were unusually affectionate. Two days later, Captain Kendall sent a lengthy wireless message to the ship’s owners in Liverpool, just before the ship steamed out or range of transmitters on land, outlining his certainty that the Robinsons were the wanted couple:
She seems thoroughly under his thumb, and he will not leave her for a moment. Her suit is anything but a good fit. Her trousers, very tight about the hips, are split a bit down the back and secured with large safety pins … He continually shaves his upper lip and his beard is growing nicely … The mark on his nose caused through wearing spectacles has not worn off … He sits about on the deck reading [Pickwick Papers, Metropolis, A Name to Conjure With, and The Four Just Men] … When my suspicions were aroused I quietly collected all the English papers that mentioned the murder … All the ‘boy’s’ manners at table were most lady-like … Crippen kept cracking nuts for her and giving her half his salad … On two or three occasions when walking on the deck I called after him by his assumed name, and he took no notice. I repeated it, and it was only owing to the presence of mind of Miss le Neve that he turned round … He would often sit on deck and look up aloft at the wireless aerial and listen to the crackling electric spark messages being sent by the Marconi operator. He said: ‘What a wonderful invention it is!’
If Crippen had elected to travel third class, Captain Kendall might have never have noticed him. Had Crippen sailed to New York instead of to Canada, which was a British dominion and thus subject to British law, he might as an American, have avoided immediate arrest and had to be extradited.
The voyage lasted eleven days, during which ‘The Chase of Crippen’ featured every morning in the Daily Mail. The Robinsons, in blissful but anxious ignorance, strolled arm-in-arm along the decks.
As the ship steamed slowly up the St Lawrence River towards Quebec on Sunday, 31 July, a pilot boat came alongside about 9 am. On board was Dew, dressed as a pilot. He had sailed from Liverpool on 23 July on a faster ship, the SS Laurentic. Mr Robinson was on deck, relishing the sight of land; in a few hours he would be safe. Master Robinson was in Cabin 5, reading a novel. ‘Who are all these people?’ Crippen asked the ship’s surgeon. ‘It’s the pilot boat,’ came the reply. ‘There seem to be a good many pilots,’ murmured Crippen. Once on board, Dew went to the bridge and met Captain Kendall. Looking down on the deck below he saw a man he thought he knew. He descended the companion way, his heart pounding. He approached the little man, who looked oddly naked without his moustache. ‘Good morning, Dr Crippen’ he said. ‘I am Chief Inspector Dew.’ It was the finest moment of his life. Crippen’s arms went up, as if to parry a blow. He replied: ‘Good morning, Mr Dew.’
Crippen was formally arrested and charged. Inspector Dew then saw Miss le Neve in her cabin. She was dressed in an ill-fitting boy’s suit. ‘Miss le Neve?’ he enquired. ‘I am Chief Inspector Dew.’ She looked at him, screamed and fainted.
Later Crippen said: ‘I am not sorry – the anxiety has been too much … It is only fair to say that she knows nothing about it. I never told her anything.’ Dew sent a triumphant message back to Scotland Yard – Handcuffs, London. Crippen and le Neve arrested. Dew.
Detained in Quebec for nearly three weeks, Crippen and Ethel were brought back to England on the SS Megantic, boarding the ship from a tug as she sailed towards Quebec from Montreal en route for Liverpool. On board the Megantic, Crippen travelled as Mr Nield and Dew as Mr Doyle. Crippen read a lot, mostly love stories, and had many agreeable conversations with his captor. He was kept separate from Ethel le Neve, however, who was guarded by wardresses, and prevented from seeing her.
One evening, Dr Crippen was taking his exercise on the boat deck, walking up and down while handcuffed to Dew, when he suddenly announced: ‘I don’t know how things may go. They may go right or they may go all wrong with me … I want to ask you if you will let me see her. I won’t speak to her. She’s been my only comfort for the past three years.’
Dew complied with his request. Crippen was brought to the door of his cabin that night and Ethel to the door of hers. Some distance apart they gazed at each other. Not a word was spoken. Dew felt embarrassed and averted his eyes. The couple next saw each other in court.
Huge crowds booed and jeered the arrival of Crippen and his mistress in England. They were besieged at Liverpool and at Euston station. Both were committed for trial.
A month or so later, Mrs Crippen’s remains were interred at Finchley Cemetery on 10 October. Some bits of skin were retained to be put in evidence, and at the trial were passed around the court in a soup plate.
The trial of Dr Crippen began at the new Old Bailey – which had been recently rebuilt and reopened by Edward VII in 1907 – on Tuesday, 18 October 1910, before the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Alverstone. Mr Richard Muir appeared for the Crown and Mr Aspinall Tobin for the defence. Miss le Neve was to be tried separately, and only with being an accessory after the fact. Crippen’s moustache once more adorned his face.
His defence was that there was no proof that the remains in the cellar were those of a woman, let alone of Belle Elmore. They had been buried, it was suggested, without the accused’s knowledge, even before he came to the house. The prosecution’s medical evidence to the contrary was reinforced by the fact that three suits of pyjamas – a piece of one had been found with the remains – had been sent to 39 Hilldrop Crescent by Jones Brothers of Holloway in January 1909, and not in 1905 as Crippen claimed. The pathologist, Bernard Spilsbury, was unable to say whether what remained of the flesh was male of female. But he identified a piece of skin bearing an abdominal scar as being consistent with Mrs Crippen’s medical history. The trial ended on its fifth day when Crippen, having been found guilty – the jury were out for twenty-seven minutes – was sentenced to death. ‘I still protest my innocence,’ he said.
The trial of Ethel le Neve began on 25 October before the same judge and with the same prosecutor. She was defended by Mr FE Smith, KC, afterwards Lord Birkenhead. The trial lasted one day. She did not give any evidence, and was acquitted and freed.
Crippen’s appeal was heard and dismissed on 5 November. He was hanged in Pentonville Prison by John Ellis, assisted by William Willis, on 23 November 1910. Harry Pierrepoint was not involved; he had been removed from the Home Office list of executioners after an execution in July when, drunk and ‘using the most disgusting language’ he had assaulted Ellis.
Three days before his execution, Crippen made a public statement, saying that Ethel le Neve was entirely innocent. He extolled their love:
This love was not of a debased or degraded character. It was … a good love … Her mind was beautiful to me … Whatever sin there was – and we broke the law – it was my sin, not hers … As I face eternity, I say that Ethel le Neve has loved me as few women love men, and that her innocence of any crime … is absolute … Surely such love as hers for me will be rewarded.
&
nbsp; Shortly before his execution he wrote a letter to her:
There are less than two days left to us. Only one more letter after this can I write to you, and only two more visits … Your letter, written early Saturday, came to me last Saturday evening and soon after the Governor brought me the dreadful news about ten o’clock. When he had gone I kissed your face in the photo … It was some consolation, although in spite of all my greatest efforts it was impossible to keep down a great sob and my heart’s agonised cry.
His last request was that a photograph of her, as well as her letters, should be buried with him. They were.
Walter Dew retired from active duty, aged 47, three weeks before Crippen was hanged. His memoirs were published in 1938 and he died at Worthing in 1947.
It has been alleged that Ethel le Neve emigrated to Australia; also that for many years she ran a Tea Room at Jumper’s Corner, Iford Bridge, near Bournemouth. But it seems that after Crippen died, she left England for Canada, where she settled in Toronto and worked as a secretary, using the surname Nelson. In 1916 she returned to England and married an accountancy clerk, Stanley Smith, in Croydon, who is said to have looked like Crippen. They had two children. He died some years later of a heart attack. At some point she called herself Ethel Harvey. A grandmother, suffering from cataracts, she died in 1967, aged 84.
14
STEINIE MORRISON
THE MURDER OF LEON BERON, 1911
Leon Beron was a Russian Jew and a forty-eight-year-old widower. His English was poor: he spoke mainly Yiddish and French. He had come to England in 1894 from Paris with his aged father, two brothers and a sister. To all appearances, with his waxed moustache, imperial beard, natty clothes and cosmopolitan affectations, Leon Beron was a man of some substance and even importance. He was indeed a man of property, although the only merit of the nine mean little houses he owned in the East End of London in Russell Court, Stepney, was that they provided him with most of his income. The rents totalled about ten shillings a week. Two shillings of this went towards the payment of his accommodation, a room above a fruit shop in 133 Jubilee Street, Stepney, and one and sixpence a day was spent at the Warsaw restaurant at 32 Osborn Street, Whitechapel, a kosher eating place. There, for an all-inclusive price, he could buy lunch, dinner and countless glasses of tea, and spend the whole day gossiping and arguing with other Jews, mainly emigrés with no leaning towards or need for work.
Murder of the Black Museum 1875-1975: The Dark Secrets Behind a Hundred Years of the Most Notorious Crimes in England Page 16
