Fortnight ago a bald little Japanese general nicknamed The Razor became Premier of Japan. Hideki Tojo's* sparse mustache looks as if it might blow off in a stiff breeze and his tortoise-shell spectacles have a slightly cockeyed, precarious perch on his nose. Nevertheless the world press shuddered with apprehension that The Razor might be the raging snickersnee that the Japanese Army had been crying for, that Japan's months of indecision would now be resolved by mad swipes at Siberia, at Singapore, or at both.
Last week significant news reached Tokyo from remote...
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