Wednesday morning, September 11, Palais des Nations, Geneva, Switzerland. In the press gallery overlooking the hall of the Assembly of Nations, Geneviève Tabouis sat pencil in hand, notebook on her lap. She watched as Sir Samuel Hoare, the British foreign secretary, approached the speaker’s tribune. Yes, she thought, there was the man she remembered: the neat figure, the delicate features underneath a high forehead curving back under a scanty fringe of hair. She smiled to herself: everyone’s maiden aunt, it was said.