vidential escape from a dishonourable and undeserved punishment. He
leaves the court without a stain on his character, and with the respect
and sympathy of all Australians, for the courage and dignity with which
he comported himself throughout, while resting under the shadow of such
a serious charge.

"But now that it has been conclusively proved that he is innocent, the
question arises in every one's mind, 'Who is the murderer of Oliver
Whyte?' The man who committed this dastardly crime is still at large,
and, for all we know, may be in our midst. Emboldened by the impunity
with which he has escaped the hands of justice, he may be walking
securely down our streets, and talking of the very crime of which he is
the perpetrator. Secure in the thought that all traces of him have been
lost for ever, from the time he alighted from Rankin's cab, at Powlett
Street, he has ventured probably to remain in Melbourne, and, for all
that anyone knows, he may have been in the court during the late trial.
Nay, this very article, may meet his eye, and he may rejoice at the
futile efforts which have been made to find him. But let him beware,
Justice is not blind, but blind-folded, and when he least expects it,
she will tear the bandage from her keen eyes, and drag him forth to the
light of day to receive the reward of his deed. Owing to the strong
evidence against Fitzgerald, that is the only direction in which the
detectives have hitherto looked, but baffled on one side, they will
look on the other, and this time may be successful.

"That such a man as the murderer of Oliver Whyte should be at large is
a matter of danger, not only to individual citizens, but to the
community at large; for it is a well-known fact that a tiger who once
tastes human blood never overcomes his craving for it; and, without
doubt the man who so daringly and coolly murdered a drunken, and
therefore defenceless man, will not hesitate to commit a second crime.
The present feeling of all classes in Melbourne must be one of terror,
that such a man should be at large, and must, in a great measure,
resemble the fear which filled everyone's heart in London when the Marr
murders were committed, and it was known that the murderer had escaped.
Anyone who has read De Quincy's graphic description of the crime
perpetrated by Williams must tremble to think that such another devil
incarnate is in our midst. It is an imperative necessity that such a
feeling should be done awa