Residents of Jerusalem's King David Hotel, strolling onto the terrace for a breath of night air and a final look at the moonlight-flooded city, heard night-jarring sounds. From a brightly lighted second-story window came angry voices. Curious newsmen stood listening to name-calling, the sound of face-slapping, of furniture being upset.
In that room, all week long, the Arab League's trouble shooter, little, egg-shaped Djamil Mardam Bey, his tufty white hair mussed and his horn-rimmed glasses damp with perspiration, had held conferences with representatives of the Arabs' six parties, trying to form a committee to direct Arab political activities. The delegates...
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