Despite being ripped off by crooked taxi drivers, harassed by merchants and beggars and afflicted with a severe stomach upset, Jez was completely enthralled by Egypt - its sights, its history, its culture, its mythology. He was so enthralled, in fact, that he had forgotten all about his objective of making a psychic connection with Phil.

Jez had befriended a fellow tourist, whose first name was Frank and whose surname was Fraser and whose middle name might well have been Frivolity. Forever cracking jokes, Frank Fraser was a short, balding, middle-aged man with a moustache. He walked with a rolling gait, looking slightly incongruous next to Marion, his tall, slender, solemn-looking wife. She had reached her mid-thirties and had embarked on a mission to reverse the years. Lotions, creams, gels, oils and masks went wherever Marion went, most of them in a heavy bag that her long-suffering husband was obliged to carry. The three of them had travelled together throughout the three weeks, arguing with taxi drivers, bartering with merchants and endlessly clicking cameras.

It was the last day of the holiday and another trip to the desert was scheduled. After breakfast, there was another bout of camera clicking.

"Go on, stand like Egyptians!" said Frank, as Jez and Marion posed in front of the hotel for the umpteenth time. "You've got to stick your hands out horizontally in front and behind!"

Jez and Marion shrugged at each other and duly obliged.

"One more!" bellowed Frank.

"Frank, I've really got to try and snatch another hour's sleep," said Jez. "I'm exhausted after yesterday. Give me a call when the coach arrives."

"That's the trouble with you youngsters - no stamina!" Frank mocked.

"Well, I just feel like I slept on one of those ancient Egyptian stone pillows!" said Jez, ruefully.

"That's it!" Frank exclaimed. "The mystery is solved! That's how King Tut died!"

"Huh?" said Jez.

"A pillow fight!" said Frank. He exploded with laughter and walked the "egyptian walk" all the way through the hotel foyer.