The Mutual Broadcasting System presents the secrets of Scotland Yard with your host and narrator Clive Brook. Brought to you by the Mutual Broadcasting System in cooperation with Relaxaciser with a special free offer to ladies who would like to reduce at home without diet or drugs. Xlax America's largest selling laxative and double How do you do? This is Clive Brook. Here is the story of Charles Peace, musician and murderer. Just over 70 years ago in Manchester, England, a man named William Habron was on trial for the murder of Police Constable Nicholas Cock. The jury were out considering their verdict and in the court itself the usual debates were raging as to what that verdict would be. Look mister, I don't know you I'm afraid but what would you say to a little bet on verdict? I say this man, Habron, will get off. I'll take your bet with great pleasure. I think and I hope that he'll hang. Right. I'll give you three to one. I'll bet three to one. Done with you sir. Er beg pardon but what makes you so sure? I've never heard such a flimsy lot of evidence. Just because he was heard threatening the policeman the day before and just because he's boot up and to fit that mark left in the murder. Those aren't the things that matter to me. A man looks like a murderer and I think the jury are convinced. Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the murder of Police Constable Cock on the 27th of July last? We find him guilty. It was odd that the winner of the bet should have been so positive of Habron's guilt. For he was the one man in England who knew that Habron was innocent. He knew this because he himself it was who had shot and killed the policeman three months previously. The winner of the bet was Charles Peace and it was completely in keeping with his character that he should attend the trial of the man who was sentenced to death for a crime that he Peace had committed. At this time Charles Peace was 44 years of age. He was ugly with a maimed hand and a permanent limp. His father had been a wild beast tamer but had failed to tame young Charles who grew up into a brutal and unruly ruffian with a passion for playing the violin. One day in the same year as the Habron trial... Yes? What is it? Sorry to bother you Mr. Peace. Me and my wife live in the house opposite. Me name's Dyson, Arthur Dyson. I'm an engineer. How do you do? This beautiful lady is your wife? Yes. We heard that you made picture frames Mr. Peace and wondered if you'd make some for us. There's nothing I wouldn't do for such a charming lady as you Mrs. Dyson. Well look then Mr. Peace, we've made a note of the size of the frame we want. So would you go ahead with a couple and we'll see if we want any more. Yes. You may call for them in a couple of days. Goodbye. Goodbye Mrs. Dyson. Oh goodbye Mr. Peace. I'll come for them the day after tomorrow. Charles Peace set to work with the will. Perhaps he enjoyed making picture frames. Or was it actually that Mrs. Dyson was a singularly attractive woman. In any case the frames were ready when she called two days later. Arthur Dyson watched for some weeks while Charles Peace made himself more and more of a nuisance. Finally, sick of having the man continually at his door in and out of the house or waiting for Mrs. Dyson in the street, Arthur Dyson wrote out on a card, Charles Peace is requested not to interfere with my family and threw it into Peace's garden. By way of answer Peace tried to trip Dyson up in the street and threatened to kill both him and his wife with a revolver that he then produced. Dyson went to the police. And for six weeks he's been pestering my wife with his attentions. He knows he can no longer come into my house by ordinary means. So he dresses up as a woman and pretends he wants to sell Mrs. Dyson some of it. I've twice caught him peeking through key all of our front door. So you see officer, I have good cause to take out this summons against him. To be doubly sure that he leaves us alone, we're moving to another part of Sheffield. And when the Dysons went to move into their new house, they were met by Charles Peace coming out of it. He ran off as they approached, but he was back that night. Oh you wicked man, don't you know there's a summons against you? How dare you come back to bother us? I came back for you Nellie. You coming away with me? Coming away with you? You must be mad. No good you calling me things. You coming with me, got quite a bit of money my love and just you and I. I don't know what you think you're saying. Now go away from here Charles. I'm asking you for the last time Nellie. Are you coming? If you don't go away from here this minute Charles Peace, I'll call the police. No you won't. Not when you've seen this. It's a pistol my dear. Either you do as I say or. Nellie, Nellie. Oh there you are. What's this? What? Why are you scoundrel? How dare you come back here now? Good evening Mr Dyson. I shouldn't come any nearer if I were you. Threaten me would you? Look Arthur, I have a gun. The one shot hit the house, the other went through Arthur Dyson's brain. Charles Peace had committed his second murder and this time there was no one else to be tried in his place. He was known to be the culprit. He won cry were raised, a hundred pounds was offered as a reward for his capture but no trace of him could be found. A year went by, Mrs Dyson went to America. It seemed as though her husband's murder would remain unevented. It was during these two years following the Dyson murder that Charles Peace became the legendary figure that he is today. We are assured that Sherlock Holmes once said, my old friend Charles Peace was a violin virtuoso. But the murderer had other talents as well. Reciting for instance. Slave like this, fight for a plot where on the numbers cannot try the cause, which is not tomb enough and continent to hide the slain. Oh from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth. Thank you. Thank you. Now my friends, after those magnificent words of our greatest poet, I would like to play you a violin solo of a song by one of our great musicians, Sir Henry Bishop. Home sweet home. Hardously billing himself as the second Paganini or the great Ethiopian musician, Charles Peace toured the country for a while before taking up permanent residence in London. The police dossier of his escapades became larger and larger. Why then was he never arrested? But he was. There was one famous occasion. You know Bill, the sooner we get this bloke to Scotland Yard, the happier I'll be. Yes, he's a tricky devil. Can't trust him an inch. Well don't speak too loud, you might wake him. Even with him tarred to you by uncuff, I prefer to keep him asleep. He looks just like a monkey. He smells like one. You might open the windows, don't you think? Here art you are. Oh, it's stuck. Hold the strap a minute. I've got it. Triangulate at the top. Hey, here. How do you... Oh no, you don't. Stop him, Bill. He's got to jump on the train. Goodbye, gentlemen. Have a pleasant journey to the East. Pull the communication cord. Aye. And with that, the elusive child's peace leapt from the train. In a moment, we'll continue with more of the secrets of Scotland Yard. With his remarkable ability to disguise his features, child's peace overcame the limp and the crippled hands that might otherwise have helped Scotland Yard to capture him. They look only at your face, he once said. If your face is different, the rest of you is different. He eventually used walnut juice to bring about a permanent change in his appearance. At about that time, strangely enough, a respectable old gentleman had taken up residence in Peckham, a suburb in the south of London. Calling himself Mr. John Thompson, he had moved in with his current wife, Jean, a Mrs. Ward, whom he is pleased to call his housekeeper, and a considerable collection of dogs, cats, and violins. Quiet, you pups. Quiet. Down, down. Thank you, Jean, my dear. Thank you. It was charming. You do play well. That's a new fiddle you're using, Charlie. Yes, I picked it up yesterday. Nine o'clock already. Mr. Snow will be coming in soon. Is Mrs. Ward joining us for a trio? She is. Really, Jean, I wish you could get over this sulky attitude towards Birdie just because I married her before I met you. I don't mind that, Charlie. It's your keeping her here in the house. What's wrong in that? No one thinks of her as anything but my housekeeper. It's not very pleasant for me. Oh, there's that silly old Mr. Snow. Don't be so rude about our neighbour. It's important to my position in local society. And don't forget, my name's Jean, not Charlie. Oh, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Snell is here to see you. Come in, Snow, come in. Oh, good evening, Thompson. Don't go away, Mrs. Ward. You don't mind my housekeeper staying, do you, Snow? I thought we'd have a trio later on. Oh, delightful, delightful. Aye, thank you, Mr. Thompson. If you're sure Mrs. Thompson won't mind. Don't need to ask my permission. It's Charlie's house. I always love it when you call me Charlie, my dear. And a nickname, Mr. Snell, a nickname that my wife calls me. Oh, delightful, delightful. I sent that letter off to the Admiralty, Thompson. I've given them full details of the invention. Oh, good. I hope they'll buy it. What exactly is this invention of yours, Mr. Snell? Well, briefly, Mrs. Thompson, it's a method of raising sunken vessels by the displacement of the water within them by means of air and gases. Your husband's help to me has been invaluable, invaluable. Now we've written to the Admiralty offering to raise two ships that were sunk some time ago. You don't really think they'll accept it, do you, Charlie? Mr. Thompson. And why shouldn't they accept it, Mrs. Ward? What do you know about it, anyway? Well, of course, if I'm going to be insulted, I... Now, now, ladies, please. We have a guest. Shall I play for you? I shouldn't think Mr. Snell wants to listen to us. Oh, please, please. I'd be delighted, delighted. It was after charming domestic scenes such as this that Charles Pease, for of course he was Mr. Thompson, committed most of his burglaries. On this particular night, he slipped out of the house on one of his expeditions, and a few hours later, two policemen patrolling in Blackheath, another London suburb, saw something rather suspicious. Oh, try to trap me, would you? Well, I don't keep the stories trapped in my wrist for nothing. Are you all right, Rob? Yes, Jack, you missed me. Now, you'd better come quietly, mister. No, sir, there are two of you, are there? Keep back, keep back. Oh, shoot. Please, don't use my friends. You can't... Don't worry, Rob. I got him this time. Now, you don't, mister. I got him. I got you now. He didn't hit you, did he, Rob? Rob. Rob! Charles Pease had nearly committed his third murder. Luckily, the shots were not fatal, and police constable Robinson pulled through in hospital later. At the station, the captured burglar gave his name as John Ward, his age is 60. A set of housebreaking tools was found in his pocket. He was remanded for a week and then committed for trial at the Old Bailey. While waiting in prison, Pease, still calling himself John Ward, wrote to Mr. Snell, the inventor, asking him to visit in prison a poor, broken, unfortunate man. Now, Mr. Snell did not know anyone called John Ward, but out of curiosity, he visited the prison all the same. To his astonishment, he found that his correspondent was none other than his old friend and neighbour, Thompson. He told the police who went straight to the Thompson's address. Yes, what is it now? Big pardon, madam, I'm Inspector Kelvin, Scotland Yard. Are you Mrs. Thompson? Suppose. Anyway, I'm the only one left in the house. That pesky cat of a first wife of his has cleared off and taken most of Charlie's bad eyeballs with her. Charlie? I thought this man's Thompson's Christian name was John. Oh, didn't you know? His name isn't Ward or John or Thompson or anything else he likes to tell you. He's Charlie Pease, the man you've been looking for for two years over that Dyson murder. So you didn't know who you had in your prison, eh? Well, no, madam, to be quite frank, we didn't. Well, in that case, to be quite frank, I'd like the £100 reward you've offered for information on his whereabouts. Having been found guilty, the law was not through with him yet. Scotland Yard had checked the facts given to them by Mrs. Thompson, and a second trial was now on its way. A trial of Charles Pease for the murder two years previously of Arthur Dyson. When Pease in a battered condition was turned over by his warders to the Sheffield Police for examination before the trial... They were handing over the prisoner, Charles Pease, to you, sir, for examination. They just brought him up from London. Oh, I'm glad you told me his name. I can hardly see him for bandages. What happened to him? Well, sir, he tried to repeat a trick he played a year ago. He was on the train. He somehow managed to slip his hand out of the handcuff and flung himself through the window. How fast was the train travelling? About 50 miles an hour, sir. Standing for a man of 60. But he didn't get away. No, sir. I managed to grab his boot. The other warder pulled the alarm signal. The prisoner was dragged along some way. Which accounts for the bandages. Yes, sir. Frankly, sir, I don't think he's as badly hurt as he pretends to be. Sounds just like him. He's an awful faker. Well, thank you, Sergeant. Thank you, sir. Oh, and happy New Year to you, sir. Thank you. The same to you. I don't think it'll be a particularly pleasant or a particularly long one for Mr. Peace. Mrs. Dyson, whom Charles Peace had found so difficult to let alone, had been brought all the way from America to give evidence against him. Peace seemingly retained none of his former feeling for her. Wrapped in rugs, complaining continually of his bruises and aches, he harangued his examiners. I mustn't believe her. I have lots of witnesses who can prove that that bad-based woman had threatened my life and had threatened her husband's life. I can't talk to you. I'm so bad. My head. I feel very bad. That horrible misery of a woman often threatened to kill me. She pointed pistols and things at me and her husband. She's wicked to the core. Wicked, wicked. Oh yes, Charles Peace was quite an actor. His exploits, his escapes, his disguises, his love affairs, all these had captured the imagination of the public. It was therefore a huge crowd that gathered in the Leeds courtroom to witness his trial. Prisoner at the bar, I pass upon you the only sentence. Have mercy, O Lord. I pass upon you the only sentence. Mercy, have mercy, O Lord. The only sentence that fits the crime you have committed. Which is that you be taken to a place of exile. In his cell before the execution, Charles Peace confessed to the murder of priest Constable Cock two years before. The murder for which another man had been sentenced to death. His eyes isn't heard, William Hebron sentenced to death. I even had a bet on the verdict. Now sir, you're a clergyman, I know. Perhaps you will say I was a hardened wretch for allowing an innocent man to suffer for my crime. What man would have done otherwise in my position? I should certainly have been hanged for the crime. Now I tell you this, but I feel that I have nothing further to gain. I see, Chrissie. It is right that you should have confessed this. Have you anything further that you wish to say to me? I wish you to let the world know that I hope no one will taunt or jeer at my wife and children on my account, but will have mercy on them. The Mutual Broadcasting System has presented the secrets of Scotland Yard with your host and narrator Clive Brooke.
