At one o’clock in the morning, on the night of the 3rd to the 4th of March, 1820, a sentinel at the Woolwich artillery barracks perceived thick smoke rising above the dwelling of Thomas Parker. Flames were already bursting through the parlour window. The artillerymen knocked at the door without receiving any answer; two fire engines soon arrived, whereupon the men forced an entry and ascended to the upper floor. One bedchamber had begun to burn, another was entirely in flames, but neither Parker nor his housekeeper was anywhere to be found.
The soldiers continued their search as the fire gained ground from room to room. To arrest its progress, they hewed through the floorboards of one bedchamber and poured down water, while the engines continued their work from the street. The men had first gained the room on the first floor: there the fire had seized upon the bed-furniture, though no occupant was visible. In the upper chamber, they were obliged to quench the flames before proceeding further with their search. Meanwhile, the blaze broke out with renewed fury in the parlour and threatened to mount the stairs; the rescue of the inmates now depended upon subduing this fresh peril. When the parlour door was at length forced open, an artilleryman discovered two bodies lying behind it. The first was that of Parker, formerly a London jeweller, seventy years of age; the other that of Sarah Brown, his housekeeper, who was about forty-five. Parker was almost entirely consumed: only his left leg, clad in a black silk stocking and a shoe, had remained untouched. His skull, however, had resisted the fire; a deep fracture was observed at the left posterior part. Brown lay with her face to the earth, her garments partially burnt and her long hair dishevelled; she bore a severe wound above the eye and three fractures at the back of the head.
The house had been fired in three distinct places: the ground-floor parlour, a bedchamber on the first floor, and another on the second. Blankets had been nailed across all the windows. The drawers had been pulled open, wearing apparel thrown upon the floor, and pieces of plate scattered about the kitchen. The examination of the bodies took place at daybreak. Upon Brown, the wound above the eye appeared to have been inflicted with a blunt instrument. To the ravages of the fire were thus added the marks of violent blows: what the artillerymen had uncovered was no mere domestic conflagration. Pelham, the chronicler of 1891, represents the fire as the contrivance chosen to conceal the murders. The blankets, according to his account, appeared intended to hide from the exterior the flames that were doing their work within.
Parker had acquired a fortune as a jeweller in London, and had retired to Woolwich three-and-twenty years before. He inhabited a house in Mulgrave-place, upon Red Lion Street, not far from the barracks. Brown kept his house. Pelham describes him as an inoffensive man, of gentlemanly manners, respected throughout the whole neighbourhood; on that night of fire, it was precisely the men of that military neighbourhood who entered his dwelling, first to subdue the flames, and then to seek those whom they still believed they might preserve.
Several persons were apprehended upon suspicions that did not endure examination, and were subsequently discharged. A man was at length taken into custody at Portsmouth, where he went by the name of James Watson. There were found in his possession several articles belonging to Parker, notably two watches, some spoons, and a silver soup-ladle. His true name, the chronicle states, was James Nesbett. He had served three-and-twenty years in the artillery before taking up his residence at Woolwich, where his wife kept a shop. The couple had five children, the eldest eighteen years of age and the youngest only sixteen months.
Nesbett likewise led the life of a smuggler. Pelham describes him as engaged in carrying lace and silk from France, and conveying prohibited goods in return. This trade had led him to lodge in Portsmouth, where he cohabited with a woman who was to become the principal witness against him. She observed that he was violently agitated in his sleep and that these paroxysms alarmed her; she accordingly quit their lodgings. Nesbett drew her back with presents. To account for his disquietude, he told her he had killed two men in duels and a woman by a blow; he promised her yet another secret, but was arrested before he could impart it. The testimony of this woman thus turned upon reported confidences and observations of his conduct at Portsmouth; she did not recount any scene of murder of which she had been an eyewitness at Woolwich.
Conveyed back to Woolwich, Nesbett was received with the execrations of the multitude. The chronicle relates that this clamour affected him to such a degree that he had to be carried into the presence of the magistrates, who were then sitting. He at first denied the murder. After his committal to Maidstone Gaol, he acknowledged that he had been privy to the crime, stating that he had kept watch outside the house while others did the deed within. He named certain veteran soldiers whom he claimed not to know. Pelham rejects this version and maintains that Nesbett had acted alone, though he does not transcribe the full body of evidence upon which that conclusion was grounded.
The investigators and witnesses brought forward further circumstantial evidence at the trial. Upon his arrival at Portsmouth, Nesbett had struck people by the remarkable sharpness of his sight; yet after the fire, he walked abroad wearing spectacles, which the chronicle identifies as those belonging to Parker. He had likewise changed his apparel by way of disguise; these precautions did not prevent his being recognised. He did not suffer himself to be taken without resistance: Pelham asserts that he attempted to fire upon the officers with loaded pistols, but was prevented by their promptitude. The watches, the plate, the spectacles, his garments, and the utterances attributed to him by the woman of Portsmouth were all marshalled against him.
The trial opened on the 28th of July, 1820. The jury pronounced him guilty after a brief deliberation. Three days later, on the 31st of July, he was executed at Pennenden Heath, near Maidstone. Pelham describes him as firm and collected during the proceedings; after sentence was passed, he acknowledged the justice of his punishment.
The soldiers had entered the dwelling to combat the fire; they had quitted it having discovered a double murder. At Portsmouth, the trail ran in reverse: the watches and the spectacles, carried out of the house, led the man with the borrowed name straight back to his victims.