The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-10-12

CRYING injustice I had ever actually WITT
messed, and when talking with a friend
who was a relative of one of the ministers
told him SO.
He was astounded at what l told him
and asked me to draw up an account OF
Kaffsky's case in writing. He would see,
he said, that justice should be done.
I had no difficulty in obtaining precise
particulars l discovered even the name
of the forwarding prison, over 1, 200 miles
away, in which Kaffsky was then inferred,
and having made out very strong case L
gave my friend the paper, and he present.
ed it to his relative, the minister.
A week passed, then fortnight, and
still there was no answer.
One day my philanthropic friend shook
his head, said my data were all wrong,
said that Kaffsky was the most dangerous
conspfrator that had ever been tripped up
in the very nick Of time, and that he
would advise me to keep aloof from polit-
ical reformerss in future as it was evident
they could make black appear white with
out an effort.
Six years later I heard that Kaffsky was
no more. He died of disease or was shot
in tumult or disposed of in some such
way. The particulars were not very pre-
else, but he was really dead; that was Ger
tain.
'tNothing else but death is certain in
Russia" remarked to an ex-minister to
whom had been telling the whole story
after dinner.
$50 you are going to write about it, you
say" he asked me, "to ease your feel
ingsa"
81 am,' replied.
every we'll, then, If you will come here
in two or three days I will supply you
with most interesting postscript"
And he did
His statement was based on official doc
uments and this is the gist of it:
"When the terrorist movement was at
it's height the leaders were invisible and
ubiquitous. We suspected that they were
in the university, but that was only a
guess. Once or twice Kaffsky appeared to
be in the movement, but we had no proof
and could get none. 1t then occurred to
General O. Of the secret department. to en-
ploy spy who had never played the part
of a detective before"
ST know You near the scoundrelly
informer, Boorman, broke in.
"Boormane Boormanf Was he? Oh,
of course he was. Yes. No; Boorman was
not the detective Boorman,I see, was
nearly as dangerous as Kaffsky. He was
Kaffsky's right hand man, and he got the
same punishment
This announcement took my breath
away, but it only deepened the mystery.
ssTwo thousand three hundred rubles
was what it all cost, and dirt cheap, too, !"
he went on.
"You mean the detectives rewardP'' I
asked.
eyes; that, of course, was over and
above her regular salary, which was 30
rubles month. 1t was the only clever
stroke of business she ever did. !"
"She?" I repeated. "Was it a woman,
then?'
ooh, yes. Didn't tell your And .
woman with the making of a saint in her
too Hal ha! ha! She is now God fear
ing sectarian-a pietist of some kind"
"Well," remarked, "she would need a
good long course of penance, were it only
to atone for the fate of poor Anna Pavlona,
whose life she snuffed out"
cha! hal hap he laughed till the big
tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
"Why, hang it, man, Anna Pavlona was
herself the detective. But that was the
only clever thing she ever did. She soon
after left the service, found salvation, as
they term it, in some obscure sect and is a
pious bigot now. London Telegraph.