In a bleak stone villa in London's suburban Kingston Hill, a tall, dazed, blue-eyed boy of 16 last week got a long-distance call from Cairo. It was his mother, Queen Nazli. "My son," she sobbed, "you are King." Egypt's fat and flabby King Fuad had just died of heart attack and gangrene of the mouth (TIME, May 4).
For half a year Prince Farouk had been virtually a prisoner on the four-acre estate except for two afternoons a week at the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich. An endless round of tutors drilled him in...
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