CHAPTER XVII 

Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him. There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug, all the spurious good nature gone from his face, his brows knitted, his cheeks hanging a little and unusually pale. Wingate paused on the threshold of the room and his hand crept into his pocket. Phipps seemed to notice the gesture and shook his head. 

"Nothing quite so crude, Wingate," he said. "I know an enemy when I see one, but I wasn't thinking of getting rid of you that way." 

"I have found it necessary," Wingate remarked slowly, "to be prepared for all sorts of tricks when I am up against anybody as conscienceless as you. I don't want you here, Phipps. I didn't ask you to come and see me. I've nothing to discuss with you." 

"There are times," Phipps replied, "when the issue which cannot be fought out to the end with arms can be joined in the council chamber. I have come to know your terms." 

Wingate shook his head. 

"I don't understand. It is too soon for this sort of thing. You are not beaten yet." 

"I am tired," his visitor muttered. "May I sit down?" 

"You are an unwelcome guest," Wingate replied coldly, "but sit if you will. Then say what you have to say and go." 

Phipps sank into an easy-chair. It was obvious that he was telling the truth so far as regarded his fatigue. He seemed to have aged ten years. 
Who returned to his room?
When?
After what?
Spent where?
Who was waiting in his room?
Where was he standing?
Was he threatening?
What was his body type?
Was he pale?
Did he want him there?
How much had Phipps aged?
Did he have a seat?
Where?
Why?
Was he beaten yet?
Was Wingate prepared?
Did his hand go into his pocket?
To retrieve what?
Does he have anything to discuss with his visitor?
Wingate
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him.
Late that night
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him
several strenuous hours
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him
Slate's office
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him.
Peter Phipps
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him.
hearth rug
There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug,
Yes
There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug, all the spurious good nature gone from his face, his brows knitted, his cheeks hanging a little and unusually pale
bulky
There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug, all the spurious good nature gone from his face, his brows knitted, his cheeks hanging a little and unusually pale.
Yes
 There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug, all the spurious good nature gone from his face, his brows knitted, his cheeks hanging a little and unusually pale.
No
I don't want you here, Phipps. 
ten years
He seemed to have aged ten years.
Yes
Phipps sank into an easy-chair.
easy-chair
Phipps sank into an easy-chair
he was tired
"I am tired," his visitor muttered. "May I sit down?" 
No
"I don't understand. It is too soon for this sort of thing. You are not beaten yet."
Yes
"I have found it necessary," Wingate remarked slowly, "to be prepared for all sorts of tricks when I am up against anybody as conscienceless as you
Yes
Wingate paused on the threshold of the room and his hand crept into his pocket.
unknown
unknown
No
 I've nothing to discuss with you.