Among the dark boles of the fir-trees， beneath their wide， out-<br >stretched branches， feathered with snow， the man seemed only<br >a darker shadow.<br > He was short， with a sad， spaniel face， the skin luminous and<br >slack， as though originally intended for a far larger skull， a<br >bigger man altogether. As he waited， he chewed gum， his jaws<br >moving ceaselessly.<br > This was the third afternoon in succession that he had stood<br >just inside the forest， on the slopes by the Col de Soud， overlook-<br >ing Villars. Like a dozen others that day， he wore a black anorak<br >and ski pants， a tight black wool cap. But no-one who had seen<br >him coming up on the lift from Les Chaux would have recog-<br >nized him now; they had seen a man in a yellow cap， a bright red<br >anorak， a man who wore dark glasses. He had skied to the far<br >side of the trees， then removed his skis and tied them to the<br >inside of two fir-trunks， so that they would not be noticed. Then<br >he had turned his anorak and cap inside out， and， as someone<br >else altogether， had walked slowly through the tongue of forest<br >until he came within sight of the ski run from Bretaye down to<br >Villars.<br > He stood now， three trees in from the edge， sheltered behind<br >a fir s rough， crinkled bark， watching the ski slopes. Under the<br >open zip of his anorak hung a lightweight pair of Zeiss prismatic<br >glasses; every now and then he scanned the empty run.<br > Also inside his anorak， heaW against his ches~， lay a "22<br >Schultz and Larsen match pistol. Over its barrel was clipped an<br >American Jasco telescopic sight， almost as big as the gun. Around<br >the mechanism he had carefully wrapped a strip of oiled khaki<br >bandage to stop the action freezing. He also had rubbed a little<br >