 Whitehall 1212. For the first time in history, Scotland Yard opens its official files to bring you the authentic true stories of some of its most baffling cases. These are the true stories. The plain, unvarnished facts, just as they occurred, re-enacted for you by an all-British cast. Only the names of the participants have for obvious reasons been changed. The stories are presented with a full cooperation of Scotland Yard. Research on Whitehall 1212 is from Percy Hoskins, chief crime reporter of the London Daily Express. The stories for radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. Now you will hear the voice of Chief Superintendent John Davidson, curator of Scotland Yards' famous black museum. Chief Superintendent Davidson will brief you on Scotland Yard case number 604-MR804. Good afternoon. Here in the black museum at Scotland Yard, which is neither black nor is it a museum, are kept on file articles of various sorts which have in one way or another been connected with cases of criminal investigation that our people have worked on. Now we keep these articles not for their morbid interest as weapons that have committed murder, nor because they have been merely involved in various crimes of violence, but as exemplars of methods and means of commission. What has puzzled us on some long-forgotten crime may one day be of assistance to us in solving another. Now this is a typical example, though you may not recognize it at once. I can tell you that it's what is left of the handle to a woman's purse, her handbag. It's made of a kind of plastic material similar to that of which artificial teeth are sometimes made. It survived an attempted destruction under most extraordinary conditions and was recognizable as the property of a particular person. Here is Superintendent George Freeman of the CID that was in charge of the case in which it was involved. Number 604 MR804. George? I should like to say first, John, that there are certain aspects of this case which I cannot bring myself to discuss in public. I'm relieved to hear you say that, Superintendent. There was considerable reference to these things in the sensational press at the time, but I propose to omit all mention of them. I shall confine myself as far as possible to how we at Scotland Yard discovered the murderer and assisted in bringing him to justice. I couldn't agree with you more, George. There is, however, a happy ending to the story. A happy ending? Uh-huh. He was hanged. On an afternoon in 1949, Mrs. Minerva Bannerman, a well-to-do 68-year-old widow, walked out of the Kentington Hotel in which she lived. She was never seen again. Woman Police Sergeant Elsie Rice was assigned to investigate. I was present when she made her report. On inquiry at the hotel, I determined that the last person to have seen Mrs. Bannerman alive was a Mrs. Beatrice Miller, another resident of the hotel. Did you speak to Mrs. Miller, Sergeant? I interviewed her, yes, sir. Her conversation was as follows according to her account. Mrs. Miller, are you going shopping? Mrs. Bannerman, no, I'm going down to Crawley with Mr. Hughes. Who's Mr. Hughes, Sergeant? He's a young businessman, an engineer, according to Mrs. Miller, who sometimes shares a table at the hotel dining room with Bannerman. Have you interviewed this Hughes? No, sir. He was not at the hotel and there wasn't anyone who knew his business address. I left a message saying I'd call on him this evening at eight, sir. Hello, Sergeant. Thank you, sir. I turned my attention to other matters of more pressing importance than a report on a missing woman. Sergeant Rice reported to me the next morning. I interviewed that Mr. Hughes last night, sir. Hughes, Hughes, Hughes, Hughes. Oh, yes, yes, that missing woman. Mrs. Minerva Bannerman, sir. Uh-huh. Sit down, Sergeant. Thank you, sir. He stated that he did not meet Mrs. Bannerman. What, sir? He agreed that he did have an engagement with her, sir. He was to drive at a Crawley where he had a small factory. Oh, what for, did he say? To look at some fingernails, sir. Some what? Some sort of plastic artificial fingernails he'd invented, sir. By any chance, was she going to invest money in this thing? He said she was, sir. Uh-huh. But it didn't go there, you said. That's what he said, sir. When was this? Two days ago, sir, on Wednesday. I don't like that investing business, Sergeant. Artificial fingernail. It's absurd, isn't it? No, sir. Huh? Some women wear them, sir. They come in different colors. Are you serious? Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But she didn't show up. Probably got suspicious. He's a suspicious-looking chap, Sergeant. Artificial fingernails. I didn't like him, sir. Woman's intuition. No, sir. He's a little too smooth to suit me. Greasy. Greasy hair, greasy face, revolting little black moustache. All right. I'm sorry, sir. I suspect the old girl got the same impression you had, Sergeant, and ran out, clutching her investing money to her ample bosom. She was a small, active woman, sir. You got her description? Yes, sir. Wearing a black Persian lamb coat, dark burgundy dress. A what dress? Red, sir. Carrying a small lamb bag with a large plastic handle. Hair white, complexion ruddy, wore full sleeve, both upper and lower plates. Jewelry, a gold bracelet, at least four rings, two of which were set with large diamonds. An old-fashioned watch with gold breast being in a fleur-de-lis shape. All right, l'll take your word for it. Yes, sir. I'm much more interested in this investment business. We'll find the old lady with such efficient people as you, Sergeant. Thank you, sir. But this fellow Hughes, where's his factory? Crawley, you said. Crawley, yes, sir. Near Horsham, sir. Between here and Brighton. Superintendent Freeman here. I want the police station at Horsham. Telephone's a great invention. I keep thinking of that American cinema actor. What's his name? A Meach. Hello? Horsham Police Station, Sergeant Hodge. Superintendent Freeman, Scotland Yards, Sergeant. Oh, yes, sir. Look here. You know a chap named Hughes. Has a factory of some sort of Crawley. Now I'm by sight, sir. Very dapper-chatter. That's the one. And what's that? Are you sure of that, Sergeant? Yes, sir. Here, give that description to Sergeant Rice. Here, Sergeant. Yes, sir. Sergeant Rice here. Yes, summer Sergeant. What? Persian lamb, yes. Doctorate dress, yes. Red-faced, white hair. Handbag with a big handle. Funny old-fashioned watch. Let's have the phone, Sergeant. Wait a sec. Yes, sir. Where did you see them, Sergeant? I was walking down there. No mistake, Sergeant. Oh, no. Seen him since? No. Send a man over to this factory right now and have him stay there till Hughes shows up. Yes, sir. I want to see that man, Hughes, at once. Pick him up and let me know when you've got him. Yes, sir. Well, Sergeant, I think you're right in not liking Mr. Hughes. What's up, sir? Well, for one thing, he's a liar. And second, we'll see. Sierra, please. Criminal records up. Yes, I will. How did that Sergeant at Orsham know the description of Mrs. Bannerman's clothing, sir? Was she... Hello? Who is this speaking? Oh, good morning, Murphy. Superintendent Freeman here. Look, you have anything on a man named Hughes. What's the rest of his name, Sergeant? John George, sir. Age about 40. John George Hughes. At present of Crawley, about 40. Dark hair and mustache. How tall, Sergeant? About five foot seven or eight, sir. Five feet seven or eight. The man said to be an inventor of sorts. As a factory at Crawley and West Sussex. Could you check quickly for me, please? Good. I'll be here in my office. Thank you. What were you saying, Sergeant West? I was asking how that Sergeant at Orsham knew about the clothing Mrs. Bannerman was wearing, sir. He said... Oh, excuse me. Superintendent Freeman? Yes, Murphy. Oh? What's that number? Eight, six, five, two, two. Right. Saria Sizes. London Sessions in 1941. Or just send the file round to me, will you? Oh, is there a photograph of him in the file? Good. Good. Thank you very much. You recognize him from the photograph, wouldn't you, Sergeant? Oh, yes, sir. Sir, I was wondering... Your Mrs. Bannerman was with Hughes at the factory Wednesday afternoon. That's how that Sergeant knew about her clothing then. That's right. You saw them together. So your Mr. Hughes is a liar. Now, CRO has a file on Hughes. He got four years at Saria Sizes in 1937 for obtaining money by false pretenses. He was sentenced to 21 months for theft at London Sessions in 1941. So he's a thief. And the cheat. I'd be interested to see if he can prove he's not a murderer too. I sent people to the Kensington Hotel where Hughes lived, and which was also the home of the missing Minerva Bannerman. She had not returned. Hughes' room on another floor had not been occupied. I again telephoned the police station at Horsham, which is four miles from the village of Crawley, where Hughes had his fingernail factory. He hadn't seen... He had not been seen at all. The door to the place was still padlocked, they told me. Sergeant Rice came into my office. Good afternoon, sir. Where have you been, Sergeant? Communication, sir. I worked up as a complete list as I quoted the jewellery Mrs. Bannerman was wearing and had it sent out on the teletype. All police stations? All stations, sir. Including Horsham. Don't think you'll get very much from Horsham. Sir, don't you think it'd be a good idea if I ran down to Horsham and had a look at that factory of Hughes? What do you expect to find? I might find Mrs. Bannerman, sir. As I've never told you what I think of women detective sergeants, have I? No, sir. I think the rank of woman detective sergeants would be abolished. Yes, sir. And then I think they all ought to be promoted to chief superintendents, to remind the superintendents to keep their minds on their jobs. Come along, I'll go with you. It was late afternoon when we arrived at the dingy little factory in Crawley, 40 miles away. Sergeant Hodge from Horsham was waiting for us. Good evening, sir. Good evening. I came straight over here when your telephone, sir. I let my men go for an early supper, sir. I'll leave them for a while. Let's have a look at the place, shall we? Come along this way, sir. Not very inviting, is it, Sergeant? No, Sergeant. Haven't seen him at all, no? No sign of him, sir. This is the door, sir. The only door, Sergeant? Yes, Sergeant. I hate to smash that parallel. How about one of these windows? They're locked, Sergeant. Only those two windows? Yes, sir. So dusty, I can't see through them. Careful leaning against that window, Sergeant. You'll break it. I did break it, didn't I? Are you hurt, Sergeant Rice? Are you hurt, obviously? I broke a fingernail, I think. I can't see, Sergeant. Certainly not. Well, at least I can see through the window. Don't cut yourself, Sergeant. There's something lying on the floor in there. See who it is. Give me a boost through here, Sergeant. That's breaking and entering, Sergeant. That's going in pursuit of suspected felon, Sergeant. Isn't it, sir? Exactly. Give us a boost, Sergeant. Can you see who it is in there? It's not a body. It looked exactly like one, though. What is it? Seems to be some old clothes, suit of rubber things, trousers, coat. Laboratory clothes, I expect. In here, though. Don't see anybody. Laws hollow, though. Maybe something under there. I'm coming in. Here, Sergeant, give me a hand. Right, sir. Shall I come in, sir? Come on. What's that stuff there in the corner? Seems to be some kind of large glass bottle. They're car boys. That acid came in, Sergeant. I've seen them before, sir. Be careful. That acid burns, Sergeant. I've no intention of taking a bath in it, Sergeant. The last bath you ever took, Sergeant. Stop the back chat, both of you. I wasn't. Yes, sir. Well, I expect we'd better see what's under this floor, hodge. Hmm? What's that you're falling over? Stitter pumps, sir. I'd like the air raid chapters to put out fires. This fellow hues in the ARP here, hodge? Uh... Don't think so, sir. Probably uses it to transfer the acid from these great bottles to some other place, sir. Hmm, I expect. Well, better get to taking up this floor. Any tools around here? There's a crowbar. I'll throw it over there by the window, sir. That do? Get it. Well, I start, sir. Here, I think this board's loose. Let's get it up. Go on. Just what do you people think you're doing here? I know you, young woman. I know you are. Who are you, sir? I'm Superintendent Freeman of Scotland Yard. You are John George Hughes, I take it. I am, and I'm the bloody owner of this bloody place. I was rather expecting you, sir. As for you, Sergeant Royce, I'll tell you at once, Mrs. Bannerman is not here. You were with Mrs. Bannerman the last time she was alive, Mr. Hughes. Where, sir? Here in this town on Wednesday afternoon. I was not. You were seen and recognized. Well, I can only say that you ever say he saw me with her as mistaken. I was in London. Are you mistaken, Sergeant Hodge? No, sir, I am not. Well, sir, I assure you, Mrs. Bannerman is not here. Do you know where she is? You said she had vanished into thin air. Miss Rice, is that right? I said she disappeared. Into thin air, you said? Oh, somebody said. Maybe I said. Mr. Hughes, I should like you to come up to London with me. Why? I should like to have your answers to a few questions. About Mrs. Bannerman? Yes. Well, all I can tell you about Mrs. Bannerman is that you'll not find her here. Or any other place. Really, I should advise you to come to London and answer my questions, Mr. Hughes. Will you arrest me, if I don't? Very probably. On what charge, Superintendent? Suspicion of murder. It's possible. How do you know Mrs. Bannerman was murdered? If you can't find her body. You're quite a clever man, Mr. Hughes. And you won't find her body, my good man. There's no corpus delicti. I'm going to give you a brief description of Mrs. Bannerman. I'm going to give you a short lesson, Mr. Hughes, on criminal law. The phrase corpus delicti is from the Latin and means the body of the crime. Not the body of the victim of the crime at all. If it's proved that Mrs. Bannerman met her death through criminal agency and intent, that one simple fact will be the corpus delicti. Whether we ever find Mrs. Bannerman's physical body or not, in that case, anyone remotely connected with the affair is quite likely to find himself in for an unpleasant time. I'll go to London with you. Such methods don't always work. They're on the very edge of legality. It's only in a court of law, in a trial, after a person has been duly charged with the commission of a crime that he's required to answer any questions and then an under oath. But a prudent man or welcomes the opportunity to speak out is refusal to do so as highly suspicious. Mr. John George Hughes chose to answer freely. His next morning at Scotland Yard, I asked him, among other things, how is it that the constables on duty at your factory did not see you enter the place, Mr. Hughes? Because I came there directly after my interview with your Miss Rice before the constables were assigned to watch my factory. I suspected they'd have the police on me, and I didn't want them mucking about in the factory in my absence. Then you'd been in that place at least two days without going out. Longer than that. What were you doing? Various things. Keep me hidden mostly. You still maintain that Mrs. Bannerman didn't come to your factory? Before this occasion, yes. But she always left, Superintendent. But this time she didn't. She didn't come there this time. I'll tell Richard. Excuse me. Superintendent Freeman here. I've got the code, sir. Good, Sergeant. Is it hers? I know. We'll have to prove it, Sergeant. Oh, well, carry on. Mr. Hughes, I may as well tell you that a party of CID people are now at your factory in Leopold Road Crawley with a search warrant. Well, they won't find anything. They've already found something. Some of my personal property, I suppose. I know they haven't found Mrs. Bannerman. They found a cleanest ticket for a Persian lamb fur coat. In your name. A friend of mine asked me to have it cleaned for her. What is her name? Mrs. Diana Thorpe. Where does she live? I don't know her address. She's gone to Dover to visit her sister. Sergeant Rice took the ticket and called for the code. Oh, she has no business doing that. The code has been identified as Mrs. Bannerman's code. That's nonsense. I'm afraid not, Mr. Hughes. What else did they find at my place? What else would they find? More personal belongings? I... I'm not going to talk to you anymore. You're not required to answer any questions, Mr. Hughes. I've got to rest first. As you like, sir. You've tired me out with all these questions. I don't know what I'm saying. You may go whenever you wish, Mr. Hughes. We'll find you when we need you. Threatening, may I? Making a statement of fact. Now, if you wish to go. What a jurist! If I can uncover enough evidence to justify it, I shall. Who's that? Come in. Come in, Sergeant Hud. Hello, Mr. Hughes, of course. Yes, sir. Mr. Sturm of Horsham. Superintendent Freeman, sir. Good morning, sir. Morning, Mr. Sturm. Come in. Thank you, sir. Mr. Hughes was just leaving. Well, I'll wait a minute. I should prefer, sir. Well, Mr. Sturm. Mr. Sturm is a pawn-backer, sir, in Horsham. This is Mr. Hughes. Last time I saw him, his name was Whitaker. You're a liar. Oh, this with me for 17 quid. Interesting. An anti-breast watch. Fastened for the flood-de-league clip. Exactly the same as the one described in the circulars sent out from Scotland Yard here as the property of Mrs. Minerva Banneman. What have you to say to that, Mr. Hughes? She was wearing it the day she was with him at Crawley. I saw it, sir. Mr. Hughes? I never saw it in my life. You walked it with me, Mr. Bloody Whirlwittaker Hughes. Oh, excuse me, sir. For 17 quid of my money. I said you're a liar. Be quiet, Hughes. I'll swear to it, Inspector. Superintendent. I'll swear to it, Super. Jake Sturm, you're a liar. All I want is my money. Is your name Jake, Mr. Sturm? Jacob, Eloise's Sturm, yes, sir. You do remember Mr. Sturm, then, Mr. Hughes? He bloody well does, he does. Well, then, Sergeant Hodge, did you find anything else there at the factory? Would you like to go now, Mr. Hughes? What did you find? Well, sir. What did you find? Tell him, Sergeant. Found this, sir. What is it? What is it? Part of a handle, it looks like. That's what it is. Excuse me, sir. Off a lady's handbag. And it's all kind of melted, like. He wouldn't do that, sir. I said would do it, wouldn't it, Mr. Hughes? Then that's what's happened to these two, sir, see? False teeth I found in the same place, sir. Now, I wonder who's they are, Mr. Hughes? I don't know anything about them. I wish Sergeant Rice were here. Why, sir? I'd just like her to take them to Mrs. Vannerman's dentist, whose name she knows, and see if he can identify them. You see, Mr. Hughes, teeth can rarely be destroyed by anything, fire, acid. Who can that be, do you suppose? Come in. Oh, excuse me, sir. Come in, Sergeant Rice. Oh, thank you, sir. Sergeant Hodge, I saw Dr. Finch in the forensic laboratory as I came in. He asked me to give these things to you. Thank you, Sergeant. What are they? What did the doctor say they are, Sergeant? He said they're fragments of human bone. This one's from a bone of the foot. This one's probably part of a vertebrae. And the other's I don't remember. What's happened to them? They were found in that spot behind the place at Crawley, sir, where I found the false teeth and the purse handle. They've all been partly destroyed by acid. Well, Mr. Hughes, it seems we do have a corpus delicti. What are you going to do about it? Sergeant Rice is going to do it, Mr. Hughes. You found him first, Sergeant. Go ahead. John George Hughes, I arrest you on charge of willful murder. I warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. What do you find amusing, Hughes? I'm just thinking. All the trouble and expense everybody's going to be put to. And when it's all over, I'll be sent to a nice, comfortable loony bin where I'll spend the rest of my life in comfort. I may venture to disagree with you, Hughes. Nobody in the world would believe a man in his right mind would do what I've done, Superintendent. You've been warned, Hughes. All right. I'll make sure they believe I'm crazy. Old Bannerman wasn't the first one I've dealt with this way. She was the fourth. And I didn't get enough money out of all folk to make it murder for profit. I'm crazy, I tell you. Crazy! Let the jury read that from your notes, Sergeant Miss Nasty Rice. I just have the ex-Miss Bannerman on the back of her skull, just like I did the others. The man and his wife, any young boy. And I didn't get 30 quid out of the whole lot. And I'll tell you what I did with them all. You saw all that acid when you were snooping in my factory. But perhaps you can think of what happens to a human body when it's dumped into a 40-gallon vat of it. Soup. That's all. Nasty. Yellow soup. And a few pieces of bone and a set of false teeth in this handle that can be identified. And that Persian lamb coat that I sent out to have the blood stains cleaned off it. And nothing left of them all. Except what was left in the acid when I poured it out. Think I won't be sent to Broadmoor instead of the Angman? Oh. Let me tell you what else I did. After I'd killed each one before I shoved them in the acid bath. No, no. No, I will not allow you to hear that. If you're morbid enough to want to know what Hughes did with his victims before he placed them in the acid bath to dissolve you'll have to write me a letter asking about it. I may reply. The jury believed the alienists who testified that John George Hughes was perfectly sane. They also believed his confession of horrible murder. The verdict was guilty. The sentence is death. His appeal was denied and he was hanged at Wandsworth 41 days after he had foully murdered his last victim. You have heard another in the series White Hall 1212 compiled from the official files of Scotland Yard. Research is by Percy Hoskins. Among those heard today were Horace Bram, Harvey Hayes, Joe Huntley Wright, Lester Fletcher, Guy Spall and Gordon Stern. These stories for radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. Throughout America, 3 million young women and girls of all races and creeds will join in the celebration of National YWCA Week, April 20th through April 26th. To these young women, the blue triangle symbol of the YWCA, the symbol standing for body, mind and spirit means enrichment of their lives and a goal to build toward the future. Through the YWCA, young women gain friendships, gain confidence in themselves, take part in worldwide fellowship and become informed citizens. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.