At first she had the thirteen-year-old Edith, daughter of Mr Menhennick, live with her. At the end of January 1879 she decided she needed a ‘proper’ servant. A respectable local dressmaker knew of a charwoman. This was one Katherine Webster. She had been born in Enniscorthy, Wexford, Ireland in about 1850, and was a tall, strong woman, built like a navvy, as one observer noted. She told Mrs Thomas that she had been in laundry work in Hammersmith, but preferred a change.

Regrettably, Mrs Thomas did not ask for character references, then usual for anyone engaging someone as a domestic servant who was unknown to them. First of all, she lied about her former address; she was living in Kingston, not Hammersmith. She also had an illegitimate son, aged five, born in Kingston Workhouse in April 1873, and whose father (one Mr Strong) lived in Kingston. More importantly, Katherine had a long criminal record. She had been in trouble with the law in Ireland and had been gaoled in 1867. Travelling to England, she persisted in her criminal career. On 4 May 1875 she was convicted at the Surrey Quarter Sessions for thirty-six robberies in the Kingston district, and was given a gaol sentence in Wandsworth prison of eighteen months. The gaol sentence failed to act as a deterrent, for on her release, she returned to her old life. Again, she was unsuccessful and on 6 February 1877 she was once again brought before the magistrates in Surrey; and was sentenced to twelve months for felony. She went by a number of aliases, her surname being variously Gibbs, Webb, Shannon and Lawler. Her activities in the next eleven months after her release are unknown, though we know she was working as a charwoman in Richmond at the beginning of 1879. She may have worked as a servant in Teddington.

Katherine began working and living with Mrs Thomas on 28 January 1879 (her son was then living in Eccles Road, Richmond). We do not know much of life in the cottage or how the two women related to each other, but it is thought that Mrs Thomas soon realised she did not like living with Katherine and wanted to have a more amenable companion in the house. By the end of February, matters were not looking good. On 28 February, Mrs Thomas wrote in her diary (on the day that her servant had her monthly holiday, spent at Kingston with her son’s father), ‘Gave Katherine warning to leave’. This may have been on account of her servant’s drinking habits. Two days later, on Sunday 2 March, Mrs Thomas went to the Presbyterian service held at the Lecture Hall on Hill Street. She went both in the morning and again in the evening.

Julia Nichols, a servant, also attended the same evening service and remembered seeing Mrs Thomas there, and behaving oddly. Apparently, ‘she came late, and did not occupy her usual seat. She made a statement to me, and was very excited.’ Mrs Thomas left at 7.30 pm. It would have taken her about fifteen minutes to walk home.

On the following morning, Katherine was hard at work, washing clothes and hanging them out to dry. The copper (the laundry tub) was much in use. There were two callers for Mrs Thomas that day, but neither were able to see her. Firstly, William Dean, a coal agent called, but Katherine only opened the front door sufficiently enough for him to see her face. He asked her if Mrs Thomas was in, and when he was told she was not, he asked when she might return. Katherine abruptly told him she didn’t know when this would be. Mary Roberts, apprentice to her neighbour, called to tell her that a man would be coming to fix the roof at Mrs Thomas’ request, but Katherine told her this would no longer be necessary. She did not open the door, but spoke from an upper window.

Katherine went to visit some of the Porters, who were old friends of hers, in Hammersmith, on the morning of Tuesday 4 March. In about 1873 she had lodged in a house on Rose Gardens (later renamed Cardoss Street), and had become friendly with the Porter family, but after a few months she had moved to Norland Crescent in Notting Hill, though she occasionally visited them until the end of the year and they had never seen nor heard from her until this day. Katherine told Mrs Porter, who was at home, that she had married a Mr Thomas, who had since died. It also seemed to Mrs Porter that her old friend had done well for herself, for she was wearing expensive clothes and jewellery.

But because her husband, Henry, a painter employed by Mr Bird of Hammersmith, was out at work, as was Robert, her fifteen-year-old son, Katherine promised to return that evening when all the family would be at home. She did so, travelling by train, when it was quite dark, carrying a heavy black bag, weighing between 4050 pounds. Katherine also explained that her aunt, who had lived at Richmond was dead and her father had told her to sell the house’s contents. She asked if they could help her with her bag as far as Hammersmith Bridge. They did so, and parted at the Oxford and Cambridge pub, via The Angel in King Street. At the former pub, the Porters had refreshment. After a short time, Katherine parted with them, whilst she went towards the bridge, returning shortly, without her bag.

She then asked if she could have the services of Robert, because she needed more help with her belongings in Richmond. The Porters consented, on condition that he returned home that night. The two went to Park Road. Leaving Robert standing outside, Katherine was some time in finding what she needed. Eventually she returned with a box, tied up with cord. It was now 11 pm and very dark. She said to the lad, ‘Here Bob, I want you to help me with this to the other side of the bridge.’ It was about three quarters of a mile to Richmond Bridge and they slowly walked there, taking time to rest when needed. On arriving there, she told him, ‘Now Bob, you run back – I’ll soon catch you. I’ve to meet a friend there.’ They had already walked half way across the bridge, so she did not have to carry the box by herself very far. The night was dark, it was a lonely place which the boy did not know, so he stayed where he was. He then heard a loud splash. Robert and a passing man both peered over the bridge into the Thames, the latter remarking, ‘A barge, I suppose.’