ALL last week the world watched once again with bewildered fascination the unfolding of a unique Communist ritual: the demotion and public humiliation of a national hero. Combing through a confused frenzy of speculation and conflicting rumors, TIME correspondents checked intelligence sources, foreign embassies, press and radiomonitors. Adding the bits and pieces submerged in the day-to-day reports and background events obscured in the rush of new developments, they stitched together the classic story of Byzantine intrigue that brought about the downfall of the conqueror of Berlin. See FOREIGN NEWS, How the Deed Was Done.

WHEN Cover Artist Robert Vickrey was assigned to paint the portrait of Morocco's Princess Aisha, he flew into Rabat with TIME Correspondent William McHale, his easel, paints and two fresh eggs. Vickrey paints in egg tempera, needs one egg yolk for each sitting, always carries a spare egg in case of emergency. At their hotel in Rabat, said McHale, "I asked the bartender for two fresh eggs for my friend." The bartender replied: "Your friend, he is a magician?" Said McHale: "No, he's a painter." Asked the bartender: "He paints eggs?" "No," said McHale, "he paints with eggs." The bartender smiled thinly, gave McHale the eggs and politely dropped the subject.

During one of Vickrey's three sittings with the princess, a real emergency developed: that was the day the hotel delivered his eggs soft-boiled. As Vickrey flew back to the U.S. with the portrait and McHale began filing the story of Princess Aisha, other TIME correspondents from Cairo to Djakarta were adding their reports on the emancipation of Moslem women. See FOREIGN NEWS, Beyond the Veil.

WHEN word reached Australia that a major medical mystery involving a new and invariably fatal disease had appeared in the wilds of New Guinea, TIME sent Brisbane Correspondent Fred Hubbard after the story. A 1,400-mile flight to Port Moresby was only the first step. After that. Hubbard had to go by bush plane over forbidding razorback mountain ranges to a remote patrol post where a white man's back is still an inviting target to a savage spearman. At Okapa, Reporter-Photographer Hubbard got his story and pictures. For the results, see MEDICINE, The Laughing Death.

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