On 17 May 1909 Parr’s Bank in London received a cheque from Harms for £1,637 14s, to be drawn from the Swiss Bankverein. The accompanying letter had been written on 7 May. The cheque was presented at the Swiss Bankverein, who believed it to be genuine, and subsequently the full amount was paid into Harms’s account at Parr’s Bank.
The end of the month saw Harms back in London. On 31 May he visited the Crown Emporium Jewellery Company in the Strand, where he bought a pair of field glasses. The Emporium’s manager, John Chisholm, showed Harms a silver watch. Harms liked it, and asked if Chisholm could get him a similar one in gold. Chisholm said that he could, and told Harms to return the following day.
Before returning to the Emporium the next day, Harms called in at Parr’s Bank. He asked for a cheque book and drew out £1,437 3s 11d: two £500 notes, four £100 notes and £37 3s 11d in gold and coins. Harms next went to Hands & co., a moneychangers at Charing Cross. He gave the manager William Ernest Farr a £500 note and asked him to exchange it for £300 worth of German money and £200 in £5 Bank of England notes and gold. Returning to the Crown Emporium, Harms purchased the gold watch for £20. Chisholm did not have enough change for the £100 note which Harms had given him, so Harms paid in gold. Chisholm noticed that Harms had more bank notes in his breast pocket.
Harms left the Emporium and went to another moneychangers. There he bought 4,000 French francs and 800 Belgian francs, which he paid for with two £100 notes that he peeled from a roll. Harms mentioned to Walter Lawlor, who worked at the moneychangers, that he was having difficulty shutting his watch. Lawlor said that he had some knowledge of jewellery and was of the opinion that Harms had been overcharged for the timepiece, and that six or seven guineas would have been a more realistic price to have paid for it.
On 2 June 1909 Hugo Lyon was in Amsterdam. There he received a cable from his bank stating that a forgery had been committed. They had received a letter which read:
Dover, June 1, 1909
Messrs J.S. Bache and Co., New York.
Dear Sirs,
I have taken from you £1,637 14s., but I am willing to pay it in full with interest at 5 per cent. per annum on the following conditions:
(1) You do not prosecute.
(2) You do not let anything transpire in the newspapers.
(3) You do not mention the matter to my friends, Messrs. Blair Brothers, New York, Mr. James Gorman, New York, Messrs. Harry Sutherland and Son, London, Parr’s Bank, London; and Swiss Bankverein, London.
(4) You will return this letter after I have paid you in full.
If you agree I will pay as follows: – £100 (cheque enclosed); £150, December, 1909; £200, June 1, 1910; £250, December 1, 1910, £300, June 1, 1911, £350, December, 1911; £287 14s., June 1, 1912.
I think it is better for you to keep the matter quiet, because in case of publicity it will be known that your bookkeeping department did not notice anything 25 days after the cheque was drawn, 15 days after it was honoured by the Swiss Bankverein, and eight days after you had in New York the information of payment. This may injure the name of your firm, as with such a bookkeeping your correspondents and customers would not feel safe. It does not interest you, but I must say I had good intentions when you employed me; but Mr. Woolman let me understand that I shall either be discharged or kept on $10 a week, which was unfair. If you wish to avoid such occurrences in the future it should be arranged that the letter of advices [sic] should be written by the bookkeeping department (not by the foreign) from the bill book (not the draft book).
Very truly yours
Conrad Harms4
Parr’s Bank and Scotland Yard were informed, and Dew was put on the case. He was not optimistic about his chances of catching Harms and ‘[f]or a long time it looked pretty hopeless. All the information indicated that our man had fled the country.’ Dew sensed that Harms was a more intelligent criminal than many of the others he had dealt with over the years. This only added to his bleak prognosis. Dew was ‘frankly pessimistic. Unless the man was a fool – which it was pretty obvious he was not – he would long since have crossed the Channel to the Continent.’
Nevertheless, Dew threw himself into the investigation. It was an adage of Dew’s that, ‘Dogged perseverance had brought far more criminals to book than flashes of genius.’ He obtained the numbers of the Bank of England notes in Harms’ possession and circulated his description throughout the country, and particularly to all the seaports.
Dew enlisted the help of Sergeant James Berrett, a colleague whom he held in high regard, describing him as ‘a splendid chap to have as an assistant. He was always exceedingly painstaking, and never minded how many hours he put in on a job. I am afraid no other sort of man would have suited me.’5
Dew’s suspicions about Harms’s flight abroad were correct. He had gone to Vienna. On 21 June he returned to England, landing at Dover, where he booked into the Dover Castle Hotel under the name of Henry Clifford, with a woman named Frieda Braun. He committed bigamy by marrying Braun at Dover on 24 June, before leaving for London, where they booked into room 442 of the Charing Cross Grand Hotel.
Harms was unaware that returning to London was a dangerous move. Dew and Berrett had spoken to Walter Lawlor, the moneychanger, who suggested that Harms may be returning to the jewellers where he had bought his gold watch to complain about it. The detectives had visited John Chisholm at the Crown Emporium. Chisholm was doubtful that Harms would return after nearly a month, but Dew instructed him what to do just in case he did: ‘You must try to keep the man in the shop while you get into touch with Bow Street Police Station. If you can’t do this, you must do your level best to get the man’s address.’ Dew managed to trace a few more of Harms’s banknotes, but ‘not as much as a hint could we get as to our man’s present whereabouts’. The detective was ‘on the point of abandoning the inquiry when the miracle happened’.
At 3.30 p.m. on 26 June Harms did return to the Crown Emporium. He produced the gold watch and told Chisholm that it wasn’t working properly, and that he had been overcharged. Chisholm told Harms that he needed half an hour to check with his employer if he could offer a refund. Harms returned at 5.45 with Frieda Braun in a chauffeur-driven car. By this time Chisholm had phoned Bow Street Police Station, from where Detective Sergeant Alfred Crutchett and Detective Constable Bishop hurried to the Emporium, where they waited on the stairs for Harms. Upon entering the shop, Harms was approached by Crutchett:
Crutchett We are police officers and you are very much like the photograph of a man named Conrad Harms who is wanted for forgery.
Harms My name is Henry Clifford.
Crutchett It may be unfortunate for you, but you see the photograph is very like you.
Harms The photograph is very like me – too much like me.
Harms was taken to Bow Street Police Station, where he again claimed to be called Henry Clifford. He added that he had been in England for two days, having come from Vienna. He also claimed to be the son of an English father and French mother, and that he had been born in England but raised in France as well as Germany. When the question of his bigamous marriage was raised Harms said, ‘It’s all a mistake, my first wife died five years ago.’ Among the contents of Harms’s pockets was a pistol.
With Harms safely in custody, Dew searched his room at the Grand Hotel, and then his private safe at the National Safe Deposit. The contents of the safe conclusively proved that ‘Henry Clifford’ was indeed Conrad Harms. It contained a photograph of Harms with his first wife, Edith Garman, Harms’s Parr’s Bank book, and a passenger list for the Furnessia which listed Conrad Harms as a first-class passenger. Dew returned to Bow Street shortly before 8 p.m. and interviewed Harms:
Dew Mr Conrad Harms?
Harms No, you are making a mistake. My name is Henry Clifford.
Dew You are detained here on suspicion of being Conrad Harms, wanted for obtaining £1,600 from Parr’s Bank on the first of this month.
Harms Oh, no. My name is Henry
Clifford. I only came from Vienna on Tuesday and was married on Thursday.
Dew If you are Conrad Harms, as I am convinced you are, you already have a wife in London who you deserted, and therefore you have committed bigamy.
Harms It’s all a mistake, my first wife died five years ago. I do not blame anyone. I am very much like the photograph – too much like it – anyone would take it for me, but my name is Henry Clifford.
Dew pointed out that if ‘Henry Clifford’ reversed his initials then they could stand for ‘Conrad Harms’. Harms countered this by saying that they might stand for anything, but Dew later found nine handkerchiefs with a ‘CH’ monogram in ‘Henry Clifford’s’ hotel room. Harms would later claim in court that the handkerchiefs were manufactured in Germany, where they would have spelt Conrad with a K.6 Dew told Harms he would be charged as Conrad Harms. ‘You can put any charge you like against me’, Harms defiantly replied.
Several witnesses positively identified Harms from a line-up of over a dozen men. He was a distinctive-looking man. Dew described him as a ‘dark-visaged, sharp-featured little man’. Hugo Lyon from Bache & Co.
Bank identified Harms by ‘his look – the expression in his eyes’.7 Several witnesses also commented on Harms’s unmistakable voice. Dew had a grudging admiration for Harms’s refusal to admit his true identity, saying that ‘when a wanted person is so overwhelmingly identified as this, he or she generally gives in and tries to find some defence other than an alibi. Not so Mr Henry Clifford. In a way I admired him for it. The dice was loaded heavily against him, but he put up a stout fight.’
Harms appeared at the magistrates’ court, where he requested that his wife Frieda be allowed to return home to Vienna with the money that had been found on him. Dew opposed this request, and the magistrate turned it down. Dew had already arranged for Frieda to be placed in the care of the Austrian consulate,8 and would later escort her back to Vienna, to her mother’s, where Harms had left a metal box containing more incriminating evidence.9 Frieda explained through an interpreter that Harms had swiftly seduced her in Vienna. They had journeyed to Dover in order to marry immediately, rather than having to wait in Vienna.
In the face of such overwhelming evidence to the contrary Harms continued to protest that he was another man, named Henry Clifford. Perhaps the most extraordinary example of his deceit came on 2 September. Harms had written the day before to his brother-in-law, Arthur East, from Brixton Prison. In a letter signed ‘Henry Clifford’, Harms said that he was Conrad Harms’s cousin, and requested that East visit him along with his first wife, Edith Garman. East thought that the handwriting in the letter looked like that of Harms, but disguised. The following conversation took place at the prison:
Harms I presume you are Mr Arthur James East?
East Yes Conrad, I am, and I am very sorry for you, old boy, and what is it you have sent to see us for?
Harms Is this Mrs Harms?
East You know it is, Conrad.
Harms I have asked you to come and see me so that you can see the difference between me and Conrad Harms, my cousin.
East What is the use of talking like that when you know you are Conrad Harms?
Harms Do you say I am your husband?
Edith Of course I do, Conrad, and so you are my husband, and why do you ask me such a question causing me pain, as you have already caused me sufficient pain, I am sorry you sent to see me, but I came because the solicitors requested me to do so … if I could help you without perjuring myself, I would willingly do so, as I have forgiven you for all.
Harms You say I am Conrad Harms, your husband, and that I deny, as I am Conrad Harms’ cousin.
Edith I can only say what is true, that you are Conrad Harms, and you know you are.
Harms Well, nothing further can be said, I am very thankful you came to see me as I asked, but I am very disappointed, as I did not expect such a result.
The trial of the 33-year-old Conrad Harms took place at the Central Criminal Court on 9 September 1909. The charges against him were fraud and bigamy; his defence was one of mistaken identity. Harms, still insisting he was Henry Clifford, said that the real Conrad Harms was an English subject of Jewish descent. He had known Harms for ten years, and there were physical differences between the two. The real Harms was two years older and half an inch taller than ‘Clifford’ (who stood at a mere 5ft 1½in). Furthermore, ‘I have three marks on my face – a birthmark like a hole in the left ear, a mark on the upper lip, and my hair will only part in the middle – photographs produced show that Harms parted his hair on the left’. Harms requested that he be allowed to shave off his moustache to show the jury the mark on his lip, but he was refused permission.
While Harms stoically kept up his pretence about his true identity, he invented a new and epic tale of his past to tell the court, which was totally different to what he had told the police at Bow Street. He now said that he had been born in China. Orphaned at a young age, he remained in China and worked for a druggist before getting a bank job in Shanghai. After other banking positions in the Far East, he then went to Russia, then travelled around Europe and South America. Before Harms came to trial, Dew had found out that his real name was Friedlauski, and that he had been educated in law in Russia and had served in the Manchurian army.
The members of the jury were unconvinced by Harms’s story, as was a handwriting expert who compared the handwriting of Harms and Clifford and concluded they were written by the same hand. Harms was found guilty of fraud and bigamy and sentenced to six years’ penal servitude, with a recommendation that he would be deported at the end of his sentence.10
Harms appealed against his sentence on the grounds of mistaken identity. However, the appeal judge pointed out that the evidence against Harms at his original trial had been ‘little short of overwhelming’. Harms’s failure to communicate with alleged witnesses who he claimed could prove his identity, despite having frequently been given the chance to do so, also weighed against him.
Dew would later describe Harms as ‘one of the cleverest swindlers I struck throughout my police career’, and reminisced that ‘it was a real pleasure’ to bring Harms to justice. He added, with a note of grim satisfaction, ‘While he was lovemaking in Vienna, Berrett and I were working early and late in our efforts to trace him and recover the stolen money.’
After his release from prison Harms sought out Berrett and the pair had a long talk together. Harms did not bear any grudge against Berrett, who found the Russian swindler to be a cultured man, and was impressed by the fact that he spoke seven languages. They discussed prison conditions and Harms told Berrett, ‘Your prisons are admirable, in a way. But a long term of penal servitude in one will inevitably make a vagrant of a man, even if he was not that way inclined before. There is not enough work to keep prisoners amused. I was not allowed to work a quarter as hard as I wanted to work.’11
9
The Disappearance of Belle Elmore
Strikes and lock-outs, champagne suppers and unemployed marchers, Chinese labour, tariff reform, HMS Dreadnought, Marconi, Home Rule for Ireland, Doctor Crippen, suffragettes, the lines of Chatalja …
James Hilton, Goodbye Mr Chips
Walter Dew’s final and most celebrated case began innocuously enough on 30 June 1910, when he was summoned to the Scotland Yard office of Superintendent Frank Froest.1 According to one journalist’s description: ‘Short, thick-set, full-faced, Mr. Froest in uniform looked more like a Prussian field-marshal than anything else. Out of uniform (which he generally was) he was always immaculate in silk hat, patent leather boots, and carrying a carefully rolled umbrella.’ Known as ‘the man with the iron hands’, on account of his incredible prehensile strength, Froest was able to tear packs of cards in two and snap a sixpence ‘like a biscuit’.2
In the office Dew was introduced to John Edward Nash, a theatrical manager, and his wife, a music hall artist professionally known as ‘Lil Hawthorne’, both acquaintances of Froest. There was nothing to indi
cate the magnitude of what was about to unfold. Dew later recalled, ‘I certainly had no suspicion of the bigness of the case when the name of Crippen was first mentioned at Scotland Yard’; he would later describe the events that were to follow as ‘the most intriguing murder mystery of the century’.
The Nashes told Dew they had returned home to London from America to hear that their American friend of Polish descent, Mrs Cora Crippen, was dead. Cora had been the honorary treasurer of the Music Hall Ladies’ Guild, a charitable organisation for members of their profession who had fallen upon hard times. The Guild met every Wednesday at Albion House, a large block of flats in New Oxford Street. Cora had been professionally known as ‘Belle Elmore’, but her stage career as a music hall artiste had been a dismal failure. Mr Nash believed her American husband of seventeen years, Dr Hawley Harvey Crippen, was a dentist with some kind of American qualification. At this time Crippen was in partnership with dentist Dr Gilbert Rylance, and they worked together as the Yale Tooth Specialists. Rylance and Crippen had gone into business together in 1908, and in March 1910 had entered a fresh arrangement whereby Crippen put £200 into the business and the pair would each take a 50 per cent cut of the profits. Up until November 1909 Dr Crippen had also been engaged at £3 a week as manager of Munyon’s Remedies, a mail-order patent medicine company which he had previously worked for in America and Canada, becoming their agent, and forsaking his salary for a commission. He had stopped working for Munyon’s on 31 January, but carried on working on the third floor of the same building – coincidentally, Albion House.
Walter Dew: The Man Who Caught Crippen Page 7
