One evening last week newsboys whipped through Tokyo's streets, warm papers under their arms. "Gogai! Gogai!" (Extra! Extra!) they shrilled. The Cabinet had fallen. Men peered at headlines in the dim light, then walked on, thoughtfully.
Behind the darkened windows of his official residence, Premier Prince Fumimaro Konoye, grave-faced beyond his habit, looked at the frowning, worried men of his Cabinet. He told them that the Emperor had accepted their resignation. Then they departed. They, too, were thoughtful. This, they knew, was the end of Japan's effort to compromise with destiny.
Failure...
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