When Mary Wright returned to No. 9 Half Moon Street, off Piccadilly, flames were already licking the doorposts of the back parlour. It was twenty minutes before eight. A thick blanket of snow lay upon the ground; the house appeared securely fastened, its doors and locks undisturbed. She cried aloud for aid. A boy came running, followed by Captain Kempster, a neighbour, and his servant. Mary Wright named them among those who hastened to quench the flames.
Wright had been in the service of William Sturman for merely eight days. That morning, her mistress had informed her that she would dine abroad, granting the girl leave to go out for several hours. At four o'clock, the young maid barred the shutters, tried the fastenings, left the window curtains open, and departed. Her master had instructed her to return by half-past eight to prepare the fires; he had shown her how to turn the Bramah lock upon the street door. Upon her return, the parlour curtains were drawn, the lamp had been removed to the back cellar, and the bedchamber windows stood open.
What burned there was no domestic hearth neglected in its grate. Planks of wood, customary store of the wine cellar—to which Sturman alone held the key—were reared against the jambs of a door in the back parlour. Paper and faggots had been heaped upon the other side. In the front room, a bandbox filled with wood and shavings was thrust against the wainscot. Footstools and three clothes-horses had been brought up from the wash-house. Rags, stockings, children’s garments, and a bib lay strewn across the stairs; several reeked heavily of oil of turpentine. Two red-hot pokers rested within a great fire built in the parlour grate, and matches were scattered upon the steps.
John Leboine, a bookseller chancing to pass along the street, entered the house the moment he heard the alarm of fire. In his own deposition, he stated that he had extinguished the flames in the back parlour within four or five minutes. His testimony agreed with the maidservant’s as to the swiftness of the succour, though it leaves unclear whether the credit belonged to any single hand. The doorposts, a portion of the flooring, and the staircase had suffered scorch and burning; billets of wood had been disposed so as to lead the fire along the woodwork. Witnesses who subsequently examined the premises discovered no lock forced. William Nichols, a police officer, found a key to a Bramah lock lying upon the mantelpiece. His fellow officer, William Bacon, declared he had never known an instance wherein such a bolt had been picked.
The bookcase and the parlour drawers, which were locked when Wright went out, were found open and ransacked on her return. The canary’s cage was gone. When Sturman and his wife came home, towards half-past nine, he was told that his desk had been broken open. He cried out that he was a ruined man. He asserted thereafter that nearly six hundred pounds in bank notes had been stolen, money he claimed to have kept within the bookcase. Interrogated regarding the larger bills, he maintained he had received them from his lodgers, keeping certain of them by him for two or three years. He explained further that he had been seeking another house wherein to open an hotel: this sum, he said, was intended for that enterprise. To the secretary of the Globe Insurance Company, he initially protested that he knew not how the fire had broken out and entertained no suspicion whatsoever.
At a second interview, the discourse with the insurer took another turn. Sturman now surmised that thieves had gained entry by means of false keys. Questioned concerning the articles that smelt of turpentine, he replied that there might yet have been some in the house. He rang the bell and directed Wright to fetch two stone bottles from a cupboard in the cellar. She declared she had never seen such bottles during the eight days she had served him, though she conceded on cross-examination that she had not searched every closet.
Wright’s reply stood not alone. Mary Sweet, who had been a servant to the Sturmans nearly a twelvemonth before, confirmed that she had seen two stone bottles in the house, the one for turpentine and the other for lamp oil. They were kept beneath the kitchen stairs. This testimony precluded the presumption that the vessels had been introduced solely on the night of the fire. Yet Mr Denham, the insurance officer, stated that he recognised in their scent the very mixture that soaked the garments found upon the stairs. Before the court, the ancient presence of the bottles and their employment on the night of the fire became two distinct questions.
The prosecution contended that Sturman had set fire to his own dwelling to defraud the Globe Insurance Company. They rested their case upon the saturated articles, the train of the fire, the undisturbed fastenings, and the treasure he claimed to have lost. They argued also that he had insured the building and its contents for a considerable sum. The defence advanced an alternative theory: that some unknown enemy had raised the fire to compass his ruin. Thomas Osborne was called for the defence, but the prosecution dispensed with his examination, admitting that Sturman was bound to insure the lease to the amount of fourteen hundred pounds and that he had paid four hundred pounds for the fixtures. The defence was thus able to justify a substantial portion of the insurance laid upon the premises.
The total sum insured amounted to three thousand five hundred pounds: fifteen hundred for the house, five hundred for the interest in the lease, and fifteen hundred for the furniture. An appraisement of the household goods, made by an auctioneer’s assistant, stood at seven hundred and thirty-two pounds and eighteen shillings; he asserted that the furniture might have been replaced for less. The sum insured upon the chattels thus far exceeded that valuation. Against the declared value, the company set forth a priced inventory of the effects remaining within the house.
A final witness was called from an eating-house in Gracechurch Street, the Telegraph Chop-house. George Scott recognised Sturman, yet could not recall where he had seen him. He was unable to confirm that his customer had dined there on the evening of the disaster. The defence therefore failed to obtain from him the proof of an alibi spent elsewhere.
The jury heard likewise of the domestic economy of the house. Lodgers paid nine or ten guineas a week, yet Martha Pope, another former servant, described Sturman as a man frequently in embarrassment, whose creditors came demanding their money without obtaining satisfaction. These circumstances sketched a plausible financial distress; they did not, however, supply the material proof of the arson. A model of the house, set up in the courtroom, enabled the jurors to follow the doors, the chambers, and the placement of the various combustibles during the depositions.
Mr Justice Heath narrowed the jury’s choice to two conclusions: either someone had fired the premises out of malice toward Sturman, as the defence maintained, or the fire had been kindled to claim the insurance money, as the company contended. He observed that clandestine incendiaries rarely leave behind an eyewitness; the jurors must therefore weigh the circumstances and decide who had laid the train prepared in those rooms. After half an hour’s deliberation, they returned a verdict of guilty. On hearing the pronouncement, Sturman appeared deeply affected.