a note to Sebastian Brown for the prisoner, at the Melbourne Club, at a quarter to twelve on Thursday Night, and that at a few minutes past one o’clock on Friday morning she had conducted the prisoner to a slum off Little Bourke Street, and that he was there between one and two on Friday morning, the hour at which the murder was alleged to have taken place. This being his defence to the charge brought against the prisoner, he would call Albert Dendy.
Albert Dendy, duly sworn, stated—
I am a watchmaker, and carry on business in Fitzroy. I remember Thursday, the 26th of July last. On the evening of that day I called at Powlett Street East Melbourne, to see my aunt, who is the landlady of the prisoner. She was out at the time I called, and I waited in the kitchen till her return. I looked at the kitchen clock to see if it was too late to wait, and then at my watch. I found that the clock was ten minutes fast, upon which I put it right, and regulated it properly.
CALTON: At what time did you put it right?
WITNESS: About eight o’clock.
CALTON: Between that time and two in the morning, was it possible for the clock to gain ten minutes?
WITNESS: No, it was not possible.
CALTON: Would it gain at all?
WITNESS: Not between eight and two o’clock—the time was not long enough.
CALTON: Did you see your aunt that night?
WITNESS: Yes, I waited till she came in.
CALTON: And did you tell her you had put the clock right?
WITNESS: No, I did not; I forgot all about it.
CALTON: Then she was still under the impression that it was ten minutes fast?
WITNESS: Yes, I suppose so
After Dendy had been cross-examined, Felix Rolleston was called, and deposed as follows:—
I am an intimate friend of the prisoner. I have known him for five or six years, and I never saw him wearing a ring during that time. He has frequently told me he did not care for rings, and would never wear them.
In cross-examination:—
CROWN PROSECUTOR: You have never seen the prisoner wearing a diamond ring?
WITNESS: No, never.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: Have you ever seen any such ring in his possession?
WITNESS: No, I have seen him buying rings for ladies, but I never saw him with any ring such as a gentleman would wear.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: Not even a seal ring.
WITNESS: No, not even a seal ring.
Sarah Rawlins was then placed in the witness-box, and, after having been sworn, deposed—
I know the prisoner. I delivered a letter, addressed to him at the Melbourne Club, at a quarter to twelve o’clock on Thursday, 26th July. I did not know what his name was. He met me shortly after one, at the corner of Russell and Bourke Streets, where I had been told to wait for him. I took him to my grandmother’s place, in a lane off Little Bourke Street. There was a dying woman there, who had sent for him. He went in and saw her for about twenty minutes, and then I took him back to the corner of Bourke and Russell Streets. I heard the three-quarters strike shortly after I left him.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: You are quite certain that the prisoner was the man you met on that night?
WITNESS: Quite certin’, s’elp me G—.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: And he met you a few minutes past one o’clock?
WITNESS: Yes, ‘bout five minutes—I ‘eard the clock a-strikin’ one just afore he came down the street, and when I leaves ‘im agin, it were about twenty-five to two, ‘cause it took me ten minits to git ‘ome, and I ‘eard the clock go three-quarters, jest as I gits to the door.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: How do you know it was exactly twenty-five to two when you left him?
WITNESS: ‘Cause I sawr the clocks—I left ‘im at the corner of Russell Street, and comes down Bourke Street, so I could see the Post Orffice clock as plain as day, an’ when I gets into Swanston Street, I looks at the Town ‘All premiscus like, and sees the same time there.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: And you never lost sight of the prisoner the whole time?
WITNESS: No, there was only one door by the room, an’ I was a-sittin’ outside it, an’ when he comes out he falls over me.
CROWN PROSECUTOR: Were you asleep?
WITNESS: Not a blessed wink.
Calton then directed Sebastian Brown to be called. He deposed—
I know the prisoner. He is a member of the Melbourne Club, at which I am a waiter. I remember Thursday, 26th July. On that night the last witness came with a letter to the prisoner. It was about a quarter to twelve. She just gave it to me, and went away. I delivered it to Mr. Fitzgerald. He left the Club at about ten minutes to one.
This closed the evidence for the defence, and after the Crown Prosecutor had made his speech, in which he pointed out the strong evidence against the prisoner, Calton arose to address the jury. He was a fine speaker, and made a splendid defence. Not a single point escaped him, and that brilliant piece of oratory is still remembered and spoken of admiringly in the purlieus of Temple Court and Chancery Lane.
He began by giving a vivid description of the circumstances, of the murder—of the meeting of the murderer and his victim in Collins Street East—the cab driving down to St. Kilda—the getting out of the cab of the murderer after committing the crime—and the way in which he had secured himself against pursuit.
Having thus enchained the attention of the jury by the graphic manner in which he described the crime, he pointed out that the evidence brought forward by the prosecution was purely circumstantial, and that they had utterly failed to identify the prisoner in the dock with the man who entered the cab. The supposition that the prisoner and the man in the light coat were one and the same person, rested solely upon the evidence of the cabman, Royston, who, although not intoxicated, was—judging from his own statements, not in a fit state to distinguish between the man who hailed the cab, and the man who got in. The crime was committed by means of chloroform; therefore, if the prisoner was guilty, he must have purchased the chloroform in some shop, or obtained it from some friends. At all events, the prosecution had not brought forward a single piece of evidence to show how, and where the chloroform had been obtained. With regard to the glove belonging to the murdered man found in the prisoner’s pocket, he picked it up off the ground at the time when he first met Whyte, when the deceased was lying drunk near the Scotch Church. Certainly there was no evidence to show that the prisoner had picked it up before the deceased entered the cab; but, on the other hand, there was no evidence to show that it had been picked up in the cab. It was far more likely that the glove, and especially a white glove, would be picked up under the light of the lamp near the Scotch Church, where it was easily noticeable, than in the darkness of a cab, where there was very little room, and where it would be quite dark, as the blinds were drawn down. The cabman, Royston, swore positively that the man who got out of his cab on the St. Kilda Road wore a diamond ring on the forefinger
