In Eastern Europe unusual quiet is a sure sign of political activity. Early last week the streets of Bucharest were still as a Puritan Sabbath. Shop fronts were steel-shuttered, cafes were deserted save for an occasional worried waiter, moodily wiping the empty table tops. Foreign correspondents, smelling trouble, gravitated toward the Bucharest telegraph office. It was closed, and not going to open. As the day advanced, groups of soldiers in steel helmets and khaki appeared on the street corners, leaning against lamp posts, smoking cigarets when their officers were not looking....
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