until a week after Austria had been
absorbed that the French Intelligence Service learned the details of
the Halifax deal and finally understood why England had side-stepped
the pleas for joint action and why the French Ambassador had been kept
cooling his heels until the occupation of Austria was completed.

From Austria Hitler got more men for his army, large deposits of
magnesite, timber forests and enormous water-power resources for
electricity. From Czechoslovakia, if he could get it, Hitler would
have the Skoda armament works, one of the biggest in the world,
factories in the Sudeten area, be next door to Hungarian wheat and
Rumanian oil, dominate the Balkans, destroy potential Russian air and
troop bases in Central Europe, and place Nazi troops within a few
miles of the Soviet border and the Ukrainian wheat fields he has eyed
so long.

Five days after Austria was invaded, on March 16, at 3:30 in the
afternoon, Lord Halifax personally summoned the Czechoslovakian
Minister. At four o'clock the Minister came out of the conference with
a dazed and bewildered air. Lord Halifax had made some "suggestions."
Revealing complete ignorance of what had happened and was happening in
Czechoslovakian politics, Halifax was nevertheless laying down the
law.

It was obvious that the British Foreign Secretary was getting orders
from someone else, for Halifax suggested that the Central European
Republic try to conciliate Germany (which it had been doing for
months) and that a German be taken into the cabinet (there were
already three in it). On March 22 there was another meeting at which
the Minister learned that Halifax wanted the Czech Government to take
a Nazi into the cabinet--as Austria took Dr. Seyss-Inquart at Hitler's
orders.

This pressure from England for Czechoslovakian Nazis to be given more
power in the government was virtually telling the beleaguered little
democracy to fashion a strong rope and hang itself. Subsequent events
showed that Chamberlain personally supplied the rope.

Then came the historic week-end of March 26-27, 1938.

The walls of the small drawing room at Cliveden House are lined with
shelves filled with books. The laughing and chatting guests had
gathered there after a delightful dinner. For the Prime Minister of
England to go through all sorts of contortions in a game of charades
might prove a trifle undignified; so the hostess suggested that they
play "musical chairs."

Everyone thought i