Huping grinned like an imbecile. "So people still think I'm a tiger-fighter?"
"Yes, they do," I said and turned my head away. Beyond the double-paned window, the yard was clear and white. A group of children were building a snowman, his neck encircled by an orange scarf. Their mouths puffed out warm air, and their shouts rose like sparrows' twitterings. They wore their coats unbuttoned. They looked happy.
Huping stroked his stubbly chin and grinned again. "Well," he said, "I am a tiger-killer."
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...