Witness:  Yes, a large diamond one on the forefinger.

Calton:  Are you sure?

Witness:  Yes, because I thought it a curious place for a gentleman to wear a ring, and when he was paying me my fare, I saw the diamond glitter on his finger in the moonlight.

Calton:  That will do.

The counsel for the defence was pleased with this bit of evidence, as Fitzgerald detested rings, and never wore any; so he made a note of the matter on his brief.

Mrs. Hableton, the landlady of the deceased, was then called, and deposed that Oliver Whyte had lodged with her for nearly two months.  He seemed a quiet enough young man, but often came home drunk.  The only friend she knew he had was a Mr. Moreland, who was often with him.  On the 14th July, the prisoner called to see Mr. Whyte, and they had a quarrel.  She heard Whyte say, “She is mine, you can’t do anything with her,” and the prisoner answered, “I can kill you, and if you marry her I shall do so in the open street.”  She had no idea at the time of the name of the lady they were talking about.  There was a great sensation in the court at these words, and half the people present looked upon such evidence as being sufficient in itself to prove the guilt of the prisoner.

In cross-examination, Calton was unable to shake the evidence of the witness, as she merely reiterated the same statements over and over again.

The next witness was Mrs. Sampson, who crackled into the witness-box dissolved in tears, and gave her answers in a piercingly shrill tone of anguish.  She stated that the prisoner was in the habit of coming home early, but on the night of the murder, had come in shortly before two o’clock.

Crown prosecutor (referring to his brief):  You mean after two.

Witness:  ’Avin made a mistake once, by saying five minutes after two to the policeman as called hisself a insurance agent, which ’e put the words into my mouth, I ain’t a goin’ to do so again, it bein’ five minutes afore two, as I can swear to.

Crown prosecutor:  You are sure your clock was right?

Witness:  It ‘adn’t bin, but my nevy bein’ a watchmaker, called unbeknown to me, an’ made it right on Thursday night, which it was Friday mornin’ when Mr. Fitzgerald came ’ome.

Mrs. Sampson bravely stuck to this statement, and ultimately left the witness-box in triumph, the rest of her evidence being comparatively unimportant as compared with this point of time.  The witness Rankin, who drove the prisoner to Powlett Street (as sworn to by him) was recalled, and gave evidence that it was two o’clock when the prisoner got down from his cab in Powlett Street.

Crown prosecutor:  How do you know that?

Witness:  Because I heard the Post Office clock strike.

Crown prosecutor:  Could you hear it at East Melbourne?