Annie Yates, sometimes referred to as Mary Anne Yates or Mary Anne Marshall, was around twenty-three years old and lived a precarious life on the margins of society. She worked as a prostitute, renting a furnished back room on the first floor of 12 Burton Crescent, a building that housed similar women in what was essentially a brothel. The crescent itself, built between 1809 and 1811 as part of the Skinners’ Company Estate, had initially drawn middle-class residents but by the 1880s had shifted toward more transient and less affluent occupants. Yates had only been at the address for about three weeks before her death, and little is known of her personal history beyond her occupation and the aliases she may have used.
On the evening of March 8th, 1884, Yates was last seen alive around midnight on Euston Road, engaging in conversation with a man described as approximately twenty-five years old, with fair hair and complexion, medium height, and a respectable appearance. He wore a black felt hat and a brown cutaway coat. Witnesses, including fellow lodger Annie Ellis, observed the pair walking toward Burton Crescent together.
Around two a.m., sounds indicated Yates had returned home with her companion. Then, about an hour later, screams echoed from her room. Other residents dismissed them, attributing the cries to Yates’ known episodes of hysteria. Shortly after, the sound of a man leaving the building was heard, but no one investigated further.
The exact sequence of events in the room remains speculative, but evidence suggests a violent struggle. Yates was beaten, sustaining a serious gash above her left ear and bruises on her legs. A towel was tied tightly around her mouth and neck, leading to suffocation. The room appeared ransacked, with a dark leather purse containing about three shillings and a 9-carat gold ring featuring a turquoise gem flanked by two pearls missing. Curiously, some money—a half-sovereign under her body and six shillings in an open drawer—was left behind, hinting that robbery might not have been the primary motive.
The horror was uncovered between noon and one p.m. on Sunday, March 9th, when Annie Ellis entered Yates’ room to check on her, as she had not appeared downstairs. Ellis found Yates lying face down in a pool of blood, partially dressed, with the towel obscuring her face and one foot protruding from the bedclothes. A lamp still burned on a chest of drawers, and blood had spattered the wall beside the bed.
Dr. Paramore from nearby Hunter Street was summoned. Removing the towel, he noted no neck wound but confirmed the scalp injury. A post-mortem examination by Dr. Paramore and Mr. Pepper of St. Mary’s Hospital ruled the cause of death as strangulation, though there was brief speculation of an accidental fall due to intoxication. This theory was dismissed; Ellis insisted Yates was sober, and signs of struggle—her hands clutching at the towel and gripping her partially paralyzed left arm—pointed to foul play.
Police, including Inspectors Langrish and Blatchford, quickly arrived. They interviewed residents and men known to associate with Yates, but all accounted for their whereabouts satisfactorily.
The investigation focused on the man seen with Yates, circulating his description widely. Despite efforts, no arrests were made. The case bore eerie similarities to prior unsolved murders: the 1872 killing of prostitute Harriet Buswell at 12 Great Coram Street in Bloomsbury, where she was stabbed in her bed, and another in Artillery Square, Westminster, just months earlier. These parallels fueled press speculation, likening Yates’ death to a pattern of violence against women in the sex trade.
Today, 12 Burton Crescent no longer stands, demolished in the 20th century, and renamed Cartwright Gardens. The murder of Annie Yates was never solved.
Crime Immemorial 