Needed: A 56-Day Miracle

A string of cars rolled into the driveway of the huge, brownish-grey Cairo mansion of Fuad Serag el Din, Egypt's most dangerous politician, one night last week. It was late, after curfew, and the last pedestrian had scurried to shelter. A soldier smartly togged in green hurried over, took a quick look at the curfew pass of Imam Bey, Egypt's political police chief, and snapped a salute. Trusted policemen jumped out of the other cars. Imam Bey rang the bell of the darkened house; a servant told him that Serag el Din was across the street at the elaborate villa of Nahas Pasha, onetime fellah and now the aging, feeble chief of the powerful, corruption-ridden Wafd Party. As Minister of the Interior, Serag el Din had been the power behind Nahas Pasha until Cairo's fiery January 26 riots had toppled them both from power.

Across the street, light filtered through the shutters on the second-floor suite of Madame Nahas, a plump, attractive woman of 40, and great friend and business partner of huge, fleshy Serag el Din. Policeman Imam Bey rang the bell. Serag el Din finally appeared, opened the door. Imam Bey produced a written order: by government decree, Serag el Din was ordered into enforced confinement on the 780-acre estate of his wife (a member of Egypt's biggest landowning family), 36 miles out of Cairo.

Serag el Din, who knows the rules of the dangerous game he plays, submitted gracefully. When Madame Nahas' brother began wailing, he snapped: "Oh, don't make a scandal."

Good Friend Farouk. At 4 that morning, a Cadillac bearing Serag el Din drew up to the family's country estate, now completely cordoned by police. The ex-minister and real boss of the Wafdists stood on his porch, lit a stogie, then shrugged his shoulders, walked inside and went to bed. The same morning, Imam Bey's men picked up Abdel Fattah Hassan, Serag el Din's crony, and plumped him down also on a Delta estate.

With these arrests, the first round went to Ahmed Naguib Hilaly Pasha, the Premier, the honest man without a party (TIME, March 10). But like all championship fights, this one has many more rounds to go, and Hilaly is still at a disadvantage. He can count on only one powerful friend, King Farouk, who has been waiting a long time to strike down the Wafd Party and Serag el Din. Honest Hilaly sadly lacks popular political support.

Parliament is suspended for the moment, and the huge Wafd majority in both Houses is powerless. The King's men can hold power for a while, buttressed by the army, the police, the curfew and tight press censorship. But the King's men haven't much time. The cry of "Down with the King!" is already being heard in student demonstrations.

Already the Wafd's propaganda machine, which reaches into the smallest hamlet, is buzzing that Hilaly is selling out to the British and trying to cover up by shouting about Wafd corruption. If Parliament should reconvene on April 2, after its 30-day suspension, Hilaly would be overwhelmed by the Wafdist majorities. Hilaly, fighting for time, asked Farouk to dissolve Parliament and order new elections on May 18.

In the 56 days of grace thus won, Hilaly will have to work two miracles that others before him have been unable to accomplish in 25 years. He may win if he can 1) prove Wafd corruption; 2) make real headway with the British.

Unfavorable Odds. The odds are against the miracle. A Cairo editor puts it thus: "If the British agree in principle to evacuation of the Canal Zone and recognize unity of Egypt and Sudan under the Crown, the Hilaly government will stand, and Egypt will get clean government and reform. But if the British are stubborn, Hilaly will fall. It's all up to the British."

At week's end the British and Egyptians met for the first official conversations since last August. They talked for 80 minutes. Moderate Egyptians nervously wondered if the British know how late the hour is.

The 32-year-old King and his 60-year-old Premier, the two men who represent Egypt's last best hope, move about with heavy guards. Farouk has put aside his gambling, stays close to his palace. Late one night he slipped out without telling his staff, climbed behind the wheel of a small Citroen and headed for downtown Cairo to see how the curfew is working. He got only a few blocks when four army privates hailed him and demanded his curfew pass. Said Farouk: "I don't need one. I'm your boss." The soldiers got tough, ordered him out of his car. Just then an officer came up, recognized Farouk. His arm went into a paralyzed salute, and he nervously ordered the soldiers to let His Majesty pass. But Farouk congratulated the soldiers, produced his pass and went on. The next day the four privates were promoted.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.