The Westerner brushed past the old man to open the door. On the landing stood three figures – but it was not the remaining three of the pentavirate. They stared into the room then asked, together, apparently, yet with only one voice: “Do we wait here all morning, or are you going to invite us in?” The Westerner gestured vaguely with his hand, and the three entered – with some difficulty as the room was not large. They sat down on the bed, not leaving enough room for the elderly man, who rose stiffly to his feet.

“And where is the meal prepared for us?” asked the trio – again, in unison, yet with just the one voice.

“Oh, scrambled eggs and coffee, downstairs in the restaurant until 9.00,” said the Westerner – assuming this was an error which could now swiftly be cleared up.

The trio looked at each other – which was odd, as each managed simultaneously to look the other in the eye, even though this was a physical and mathematical impossibility. And they each, sadly, it seemed, shook their heads, and fumbling within their garments, produced a solitary kebab, which was passed from one to the other to be consumed. Then one (or was it the three?) spoke:

“The aged woman will be with child in a year’s time. The promise is unchanging. The blessing will be fulfilled.”

The three looked round the room – puzzled, it seemed, by what they saw, and by the two occupants of the room in particular. They looked at each other again, and simultaneously rose to their feet, saying:

“Hospitality is not what it used to be. The youth of today, tut tut! The taxi will collect you from the entrance to the souk. Our work here is done.”

And with that they simultaneously left the room, jostling each other clumsily as they tried to go through the narrow door together.

The Sage and the Westerner looked at each other. Just at that moment, the William Tell overture struck up from deep within the Westerner’s cloak, and he fumbled for his phone distractedly.