Three weeks ago, as the British-French military mission was on its way to Moscow to try to conclude a three-way alliance with the U. S. S. R., another British mission was reported heading for Danzig. No one knew anything about it, except that its leader was a certain Professor Riley, and that it was vaguely economic. In Tallinn, Estonia, a reporter of the Swedish Aftonbladet credited the mysterious Professor Riley with a startling declaration: "In Britain we are by no means convinced of the vital necessity of Danzig for Poland. . . . The Commission has undertaken its trip under Government inspiration. I'm convinced that the results of our inquiry will have the greatest influence on the future position of Britain with regard to Danzig."
Who was Professor Riley? Guesses began to fly: perhaps he was Durham University's eminent Chemist Harry Lister Riley (no; reporters found him vacationing in Northumberland); a Government bigwig, sent, as Lord Runciman was to Czecho-Slovakia in August 1938, to find that the disputed area wasn't worth squabbling over (Downing Street denied it); a personal emissary of Neville Chamberlain's sent behind his own Government's back to pave the way for a second Munich agreement; perhaps just a crank.
As the British-French-Russian military talks got more & more press notice, Professor Riley got less & less. Russia's witty Defense Commissar Kliment Voroshilov received the British and French delegates with sparkling good will. They dined and wined each other. The Russians took their visitors to the annual "aviation holiday." Everyone was in great good humor; every one thought the alliance was all but accomplished.
But this week Professor Riley was back in the news. The Russian press suddenly bristled with charges that Britain sought another Munich agreement. This time it would be between five big powers, with the U. S. included, the U. S. S. R. not. Why had hypocritical Mr. Chamberlain sent this Riley man to Danzig without even consulting Parliament? "Signs of a serious set-back to the attempt to get Russia into the peace pact front have to be recorded today," Correspondent G. E. R. Gedye cabled the New York Times. He could scarcely have expected how momentously right and wrong he was to be proved in the next 48 hours.
Late Sunday night—not the usual time for such announcements—the Soviet Government revealed a pact, not with Great Britain, not with France, but with Germany. Germany would give the Soviet Union seven-year 5% credits amounting to 200,000,000 marks ($80.000,000) for German machinery and armaments, would buy from the Soviet Union 180,000.000 marks' worth ($72,000,000) of wheat, timber, iron ore, petroleum in the next two years. And at Monday midnight the official German news agency announced from Berlin:
"The Government of the Reich and the Soviet Government have decided to conclude a non-aggression pact with each other. The Reichsminister of Foreign Affairs, von Ribbentrop, will arrive in Moscow Wednesday to conclude the negotiations."