A tall Briton, one of whose haggard eyesockets still gripped his monocle as might a band of steel, descended at London from a boat train last week and grimly faced the assembled press. "Gentlemen," he rapped, "I hear that I am going to be executed on the day after tomorrow. I shall wait until I ascend the scaffold before saying anything."
Thus, with his nerves jangling and raw after the adjournment of the League without admitting Germany (TIME, March 29), Sir Austen Chamberlain, the erstwhile "hero of Locarno" (TIME, Nov. 2 et seq.), returned...
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