Evening Star Newspaper, August 4, 1928, Page 21

REAL ESTATE. THE EVENING STAR. WASHINGTON, D. C., SATURDAY, 'AUGUST 4. 1928.' REAL ESTATE. LU O O T | THE FORTUNATE WAYFARER R T With a strength which, under circumstances, was amazing, he wrenched from the sentinel's hand the rifle he was carrying. INSTALLMENT L Prologue. HE two men, breathless, sw g | companion, but his mouth had wn, | if anything., more sinister in its curve n?dphl? e?néslon m;):‘devfl. T‘he‘fl‘r}n | of Porle raunt become fairly | Tith fatgue, Abelr Clothes \in | well known in New York as importing | Sharter protruding from & pair | [FUit brokers from the South. Their of n“'g Santas wiies ¥ at | business, wound up that day, had been the end of the wooden pier which | :honlghhl‘ymiue&r:u‘l t‘el:dinlmow oyl skirted one side of the harbor of San | tOUER there we o] Paulo and watched the departure of | ¥ho smiled at the name of the firm the small coasting st hip whose last and the description of their activities siren had blown as they had pushed | PETRapS they had reason Messers their aching way through the streets of | /70 B0, RS PR CR Y e | ;m little South :mrflcan porltl. .; sal- | e of ,mn"”' ier on sentry duty—a small bIOWN | "qpey Junched exceedingly well, al- man, but with flerce, black mustache | though they drank nothing but iced Victor Porle looked down at! the magnificent prospect with a frown | upon his forehead. His regular features and slightly hooked nose gave him al- most a scholarly appearance. He| Solomon. | T8i3ed his lass. the other might have belonged 10 any nationality. Some instinct, acquired in the turbulent littie district, warned him that these were desperate men. “He has caught the boat, We can do nothing.” The man addressed, shorter and of | “We drink our farewell to New York,” | realize, | friend, that in less than a dozen years 5 | we have made, almost honestly, a great mate, of a remarkable pallor, | fortune in this wonderful city? opened his lips without speech. | “Solomon Graunt nodded. There “Then, fluently and blasphemously, he | a scowl upon his face, though, a remi- began to swear. He made use of every | niscent g'itter in his eyes. foul word in the English language, and | “I rcalize that, and very grateful I ‘When he had finished | am,” he acknowledged. “New York 'ye: has done us well. For the moment, “May his bones rot in hell!” he con- | howsver, I was thinking—once we were €cluded, with a sob. nearly broken, Victor.” They leaned upon one anotber for | “Once,” the other admitted softly, ipport as they watched the miserable ‘we touched bottom. God, shall I ever » steamer, its decks littered up | forget the agony of that day, the misery withi great piles of bananes, go creak- |of the night in prison, the fleas, our Ing aid groaning its way out toward the | fest, the fever!” opens éca. The eyes of both were in- | There is something to come for that,” tent -rpon that little space amidships | Solomon Graunt muttered. where a few lengths of white rzil be- “There is most surely something to tokened the space set aside for passen- Victor Porle agreed as he called | gers. A young man, of medium height, | for the cheek. in spotless white ducks and a drooping | They left New York in leisurely and panama hat. stepped out cf the com- | dignified fashion. Those days beionged panion-way and lounged over the rails, | to the past when they had slippad awa; Simultanecusly they recognized him. from great centers quietly and anx‘ous- ‘They tried to raise their voices, but in |ly. Prosperity had smiled upon them. vain. The departing passenger uvon | In every way, their retirement, the the steamer waved his band. He lifted | winding up of their affairs, the closing his hat and there was a note of mock- down. of the firm, had becen above ery 25 he called across to them. | suspicion, They walked the gangway “Too late to see me off. my dear com- with firm steps and watched the de- panions. Never mind, I will take the | tectives on the quayside with a smile. will for the deed. The world is a small | After dinner they sat out cn the deck iace. We shall meet again. Work |veranda, ignoring their coffee, forgetting : d at the mine, and remember my their cigars, but drinking liquor brandy share.” to the estonishment of the steward ou! ‘They shook their fists in silent fury. of lerge-sized wine glasses. It was The steamer was already out of range | Victor Porle who commenced the con- of their poor attemnts at rejoinder. versation. There was a menacing glit- Then there fluttered through the com- | ter in his hard brown eyes. | panion-way 1o the young man’s side, a | “The time has come now, Solomon, girl, also in white, with wine-black hair, | he. said, “when should speak of this bare-headed. but protected from the | matter which is taking us to England.” b2 parasol. She| “It hes indeed come,” was the ready to the two | assent. “For many years we have besen as well silent. We had other things to think of. Poor men can do nothing in this world. We both realized that, Victor.” The latter's tone was full of gentle sel \alisll)cflani clutched at her companion’s arm | “We realized it, and we acted accord- and clung fondly to it. The taller of | ingly,” he admitted. “We were a the two men upon the quay, the one | little bold, perhaps, but success has who up til then had shown the greater Jm“;t"(\fd our efforls. We are wealthy restraint, seemed to find in the sound | Me of that voice and the little affectionate | _“And bearing that in mind,” Solomon gesture. ch made him | Oraunt pronounced. “What I say is, forg 1l ion, his dis- | let us remember this: crime is a neces- reputable , my s one sity to the poor; it s only a Juxury to the rich. There are other ways." im- | 01 Vietor Pofle made no reply e effort at | o4 o b rot. | was, in those hard eyes, as he looked which he stood and | 5eaward, a gleam of that lust for mur- | joe. Then he checked | der which had shone in them when he himself, looked around. and | snatchs lurched heavily sentinel soldier. With a strength which, undar | the eire . emezing, wrenched n: ‘There e gl ehallanghog the weapon from the little | Id Presently his com- | panion continued “Pifteen years, It is a long time, | ubposing he 1s dead?” | He is not dead that There was a brief silence. Then for | he first Ume for 15 years the me hl‘ © woman passed Viztor Porle’s li It may be that Laurita is cead, {he cont “She was never strong, ;and the life at Ban Pau'o was hard. | If she is not dead, by now she will be | ugly. If the child has lived, she will be | i 17 years old. An interesting age, Solo- | { You will come wit and your companion. ad sought der stood for a momne yes were fized upon the stes now passed outside th “A wonderful age!” ‘I have heard you yourself declare | that &t 17 a girl i more beautiful than | tbor porious way | 8t any time before or after.” { ures | Bolomon Graufit smiled slovly—a | ared. | smile that was almost a leer. | could | Victor Porle smiled Indulgently. | on - { 1 know what you are fearing, Bolo- was{mon” he sald. “You think that inl es in | England 1 shall make use of the same | {methods 1 might have employed at | 3un Paulo or up in the mountains. That {15 not my ides. To kill g ¥ | my conception of ver )| merciful ‘w thing, There ‘are other #% When we have found him, we will {sit down and reflect, His nerves will {not be as good as they wees, Solomon , | Of that 1 am well assored, 1 can see him, #itting in & house of fear, shiver- ing and waiting. That is betler than the speedy bullet, SBome day or other e knows that something will arrive, | because he knows what, manner of men almost tubby, the pallor of the city|¥e sre. but he will not know when or T epihoed the Lanwurn of South | Dow. 1t will be better like that America, but T y-green eves, al-| “Wonderful!” his companion though _ unpless were keen end | mured approvingly, Dright Vietor Porle nad preserved ' “There will be the girl, 100, You were morning, some 4 business mer tory of & grest down- vork building re atiired now in the w business clothes of the typieal Yorker, and each seemed w bave im bibed something of the alertness of the metropolis in which they had lived for 1 10 years. Bolomon Graunt had | ed in girth until his figure Bolomon sgether, one mur~ | commercial room, I he could concel I have no fear of | ments. Laurita and I were married in the English Settlement Church at San Paulo. It was a ridiculous whim of hers, but in a fortunate moment I con- sented. The child was baptized there. The English law is very fair. If I in- sist, until she is 21, she must come to me. Stop! There is another idea which presents itself. Seventeen is your fa- vorite age, Solomon. How would you like to be my son-in-law? “If the child is as beautiful as her mother was,” Solomon Graunt replied, with an unpleasant brightness of the eyes, “I shall not refuse. There was a long silence. Victor Porle was lost in what seemed to be a pleasant reverie. “There is just one thing,” he said at Iast. “To sit at a man’s gates and fill him with fear is good. It is good to keep the doomed waiting for his punish- ment, never knnwln§ when it may fall. But the cat, after it has played with the mouse, kills In the end. When the safe time comes, Solomon, I think that he will die wtih my hand on his throat.” Obeying That Impulse. It was just an impuise for which at the time he did not take the trouble to account, even to himself, which induced Martin Barnes, the Eastern Counties representative of the firm of Shrives & Welshman, of Bermondsey, to leave the the atmosphere of which suddenly irritated him, to re- fuse an invitation®o accompany a rival traveler to a picture show and to wan- der out alone into the streets of the old Cathedral town where he was spending two or three days in pursuit of his business. His impulse proceded simply from the fact that he was weary of the flamboyant peregrinations in | which the evenings of his days of travel were usually spent, of the company of his night-by-night associates, with whom he never felt entirely in sym- vathy; of the flirtations of an hour, harmless enough but cloying, continu- ally offered in the more crowded places. It was 50 he came to Ash Hi . He sauntered down the cobbled way certainly with no idea of finding any: here in its murky reccsses either for- tupe or even anything unusual. High d majestic above the red-tiled rcofs of the dwelling houses on his right, the Cathedral spire arose, imminent and,in the gloom, gigantic. the street him. On one side were dwelling houses of an ordinary type enough; on the other, the side nearest the Cathedral, after passing a straggling. silent warehouse and an entry which led Cathedralwards, he had come to a bullding which, with its long, level line of windows, its impres- sive, yet secluded air, scemed singular- ly placed in so retired a neighborhood. Prom the middle of the street he stepped on to the pavement to examine more closely the nail-studded door, wondering at its massiveness, ite fine carving and curlous about the great coat-of stood there his foot almost edvanced on to the flawlessly clean white step, the door which he was studying was ab- ruptly opened from inside, and the most unmsitakable butler who ever donned the livery of his class looked in- quiringly out into the darkness. Mar- tin ‘Barnes was distinctly taken aback. the more so0 because he was conscious that he was being scrutinized with an | interest, almost an eagerness, for which no_ explanation. himself felt like & suddenly convicted 3 t Will you step inside, please?” the butler invited ‘The young man stared at him, “Why should 1?" he demanded. "I don't know any one here. I was only admiring the dcor.” The butler opened it an inch wider, Before him now Martin two soked {into a vista of white-flagged hall, un- | expectedly spacious, walls hung with somberly framed oll painting; great oak staircase and beyond, a stained- glass vindow. “My orders were to admit you,” the man replied patiently, Martin Barnes hesitated. Perhaps al that moment there was kindled in his imagination some spark of that love of adventure of which he certainly gave evidence in later life. ' ile stepped into the hall and waited whilst the heavy door was closed behind him “Wil you come this way, sl With ihe sober dignified gait of hi: cluss, the butler led the way down the hall, threw open the door of a room on the left, and stood on one side Lo allow Martin to enter, In a single phrase he placed the visitor, The young man, my lord,” he an nounced. The Mysterious Houss. The door closed behind him, and Martin gasped, It was & room, such as he had never seen before—a dining room paneled from wainscoting to cell- psrt unrelieved but with here and there pn ofl painting let in, surmount- ed by a shaded electric light, At a with his clenderness of figure that sir [ remember the little baby. He was fond of distinction which seemed always to|of her. That feeling may have grown scparale Qun & Lite in class from his Fortunstely, 1 have km‘tl sll my docu~ e round table four men had apparently been dining. There were decanters of wine and wonderful glass standing ..}’5‘!;,1’.», The character of | rms surmounting it. Whilst he | He | ing in ancient black oak, for the most | still don't see why I'm here or how all this concerns me.” “Everything shall be made clear di- rectly,” Lord Ardrington promised. “I BY E. PHILLIPS am not a rich man, Mr. Martin Barnes; OPPEN’II,:,/‘I. I am, in fact, for my rank in life, a ngularly poor one, but such money as 1 have to leave I have determined hall not benefit that young man who now looking at me so murderously from the other end of the table. I have no near relatives unless you place in that category an adopted daughter, who is already provided for, and I have de- cided, therefore to dispose of certain moneys which would otherwise come into the estate by deed of gift. Mr. Bordon, if you please.” The lawyer drew reluctantly from his pocket and placed upon the table a thick sealed packet Eighty Thousand Pounds! “Inside that,” Lord Ardrington con- | tinued, pointing toward it, “are bank | notes to the value of eighty thousand pounds. Not a large-sum, Mr. Barnes, but I trust you will agree with me a very pleasant sum to own. To pick {up the trend of r conversation, you will remember that I told you of ‘my | intention to dispose of some portion iof my estate by deed cr gift. But to | whom? I imagine, /perhaps, that I y be an old man grown out of touch ith the time, but the regrettable fact | remains that ‘there is scarcely one of {my few tives with whom I am on | speaking terms with the exception of a neice who flatly refuses to accept any thing from m question of charit | been en unflinching opponent of chari- table institutions throughout my life. Hospitals, T hav d, sl be State-endowed. T will not, however, open up that question, os I do not wish | to trespass for too long upon your pa- tience. I have found myself faced with | this fact; I know of no living person, | nor have I inter ny institution, which I would care to have profit byi this sum of money. Martin Barnes was listening in earn- est In a state of strain, his face gave evidence of qualities more or les latent. Its pallor become him. ‘The | tenseness of his expression gave empha- | not unattractive features. | yes, though light in color, were singularly bright and clear. “All my life,” the speaker procecded, “1 have been called a farceur. In my fast few hours I have determined to live up to ave instructed | my lawyer to bring here in bank notes that portion of my property of which I desire to dispose—or shall I say, that I desire to keep from the covetous hands of my ncphew. I announced | some half an hour ago my intention | to these gentlemen of presenting that | um by deed or gift to the first person whose footsteps I should hear passing down the street.” Lord Ardrington paused and sipped | his wine celiberately, raised the richly cut glass toward the light, studied it for a moment and drank the remainedr of its contents, Mcanwhile not a word had been spoken. Martin Barnes was scarcelv conscions of his own ph whereabouts. E | denied him. .His whole attention | | riveted upon the man by his side. | “The money,” Lord Ardrington con- | | upon the polished table. dishes of fruit | cluded, “is there, and you, Mr. Martin | {and nuts, and a profusion of flowers, | Barnes, have had the fortune—mark | The four men all wore dinner ciothes | you, I say the ‘fortune,’ for the future | and possessed the air of having just alone will show whether it is good or | concluded some heated discussion. They | {ll—{o pass—I wonder why?—down this | studied the newcomer with a curiosity | remote thorcughfare. You are ac- | | which seemed to him entirely inexplic- | cordingly seated at my table, and will | | able, and which succeeded in gender- | presently depart with that packet of | g him to the last degree self-con- | notes fn vour possession. I notice that He stood twirling his tweed|you continue dumb. The situation is cap in his flingers, looking about him | doubtless confusing to 3 ]m perplexity—a tail, broad .hou'deredl\-enmn an inquiry as to aemEme——————e Copyright by E. Phillips Oppenheim | Might I your present | Joung man, with ple:\sanld[ncc. tr:ndla' | means and condition?" | ckled complexion, a good mouth an The Fero in the Drama. | IENedym g wtish & glfig‘o&hfig‘? The young man listened to his own | colored heir which grew too thiskly fo | Soice &% one listens o the speech of & lend itself readily to control. His other | b | features were without any specal dis- | gaeq tinction but not displeasing. His car- gacte o riage, under ordinary circumstances, g repaid him for a good many hours spent in the gymnasium. “I say, what em 1 hers for?" he asked, finding words at l2st. “T wes just pass= ing down the street when the door opened and I was told to come in. I don't know any of you. I haven't any business here?" | The man whom Mariin had rightly divined to be host, rose to his feet. He was teller than he had seemed when seated and his voice, notwithstanding its slight draw!, was unexpectedly pleasant. “You are here at my special request,” he announced. “I am exceedingly obliged to you for coming. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Ard- rington. Will you take a seat and drink a glass of wine with us?" Martin hesitated for a moment. then moved slowly forward. The man on his host’s left-hand side rose and drew | up a chair llln ck:1 l&c nelv;'ly arrived | guest uneasily seated himself. s ore. orged, My apologles are due $ou for this | i Hurey mo. Rememper that T ami interference with vour evening, and also | ot 1Ty WS RIS BIEC G oane Welsh- | pay me s a week and a commission. cther money stand this. It's some of “Mr. he said, “before ws go further, I insist uven your tclling me | what you think of that wine. Martin sipped obediently. His reply, however, lacked enthusiasm | “Oh, I don't know IU's good, 1 suppose. What does it mattar? { never tasted anything likze tha “You spoke the truth,” Lord Ardring- ton approved. “You have never tasted anything like it. It is port of rn 1368 | | vintage. which had lain undisturbad in {my cellars since it was laid down in | 1870. " A revelation to you, I hope, Mr. | | Barnes?” | | _ “How much longer is this damned | foolery going to lost?” the lonorable Gerald Garnham asked soitly. but in | @ volce quivering with latent fury. | His uncle extonded his hand. | d | which a condition to dispose as I will of my own effects. With these documents, Mr. Barnes, no one in the world will venture to dispute your possession of the money. Mr. Bordon, may I troukle ou.” 2 Mr. Bordon pushed the packet along | the table and at a sign from Lord Ard- rington, Martin took it into his posses- sion. “I have carried out the instructions ! of my client,” Mr. Bordon said, in a| thin, harsh volce, “but I wish to repeat in your lordship’s presence, as well as in the presence of your nephew and the beneficiary, that I entirely and utterly isapprove of this means of disposing | of so0 large a sum of money.” ith _which expression of disap- ,” Dr. Helsby added, “I wish to associate myself. Mertin was beginning to hate these ! two men. They represented the world tical, everyday things, the world ich he had lived and understood. They wera trying to come between him and this fantastic fortune. He but- toned the flap over his breat pocket| and scowled at them both. His bene- factor smiled. What Shall You Do With the Money. “Our young friend,” he remarked, “is beginning to realize the situation. What ~shall you do with that money, Mr. Barnes? don’t know,” was the candid 1 haven't had time to think 1l perhaps buy a share in siness with, which you are as- ated?” Mot I!” the young man exclaimed, with a vigor and clarity of thought ciward astonished him. I hate business—my job, anyway.” “That is interesting,” Lord Ardrington observed. “The money is going to make a real change in your life, then? Very intercsting, indeed, he mused. “It was a fortunate chance, Mr. Barnes, which brought you wandering down Ash Hill this evening.” Martin Barnes moistened his 1ips. “It vas a fortunate chance all right, but are you sure that they won't be able to take it away from me?” he| asked, jerking his head toward his| hbor, ‘Ask him yourself,” Lord Ardrington enjoined. It woulid be impossible,” the lawyer declared. There was conviction in that curt statement. Martin’s good fortune sud- denly seemed to become real. He found himself* wishing that they would ask him to have another glass of wine. “Tonight, at 10 o'clock,” Lord Ard- rington continued, “I shall leave this house, which, by-the-bye, I seldom occupy, in the most dreary of vehicles, a motor ambilance. I am going to the hospital—the 1a:al hospital—and in four day’s time I.am to undergo an | operation from which I believe I am | he odds |} | right in saying, doctor, that 5 to 1 agamst my recovery. To a_ patient of Your Lordship’s | nerve and temperament,” the doctor as-1 nted, “I will admit that the odds are | corractly stated.” | So you see that I have the right to | amuse myself. For that reason I have | sot this little stage upon what may be | the ciosing scene of my life; for that | reason I am drinking one of the last | bottles of the most famous wine grapes | ever yielded. I have spent a pleasant | evening and I thank you foi ur share | in it, Mr. Barnes. I beg you to walk | in the middle of the street on your way | homeward and as soon 23 possible on the morrow to deposit the contents of that package in a respectable bank. I should be interested in your future ca- reer, but alas! the possibilities of my being able to observe it are singularly remote. In the event, hawever. of tI t{ 5 to 1 chance coming off, let me see or | hear something of you. Permit me | to wish yeu good evening. | Martin was suddenly aware that the | door of the room was open and the | butler who had admitted him was | standing patiently beside it. to his fcet and stood for a moment | looking around at the four men, un- | certain how to frame a farewell, how | to maXke his exit. The “good-night all” of the commercial room scemed at | once inadequate and familiar. He rose | 3 Lord Ardrington | begged him, lifting his hand. *“I have learned to hate the people who thank | me. Besides, what have I to do with | it? Thank instead what those irra- | tional people like my nephew would call | ‘the wind of destiny:' which brought | you down this crazy street. Good night, | Mr. Barne: | “Good night, gentlemen all,” Martin Barnes replied, with sudden inspira- tion, as he left the room. To Be Continued in The Sunday Star. WAISTLINE OF VENUS 2n explanation which I shall presently | Ad that the arusements of oy life 5t of the party continued. | nre nearly over. Mr. Barnes, vou, hav- | . Mr—by- | jng a mind trained by commorce, are | | naturally asking yoursslf whether ‘such | llent! And now to comm: our aecquaintance, which I trust may be a lasting cne, let you a great favor. Would you %t ishing tha cigarette, which appears to be of a brand with which I not familiar, until after you have unk your wine?" The young man looked aroun - lessl. His neighbor on the oft vs lieved him of the objectionable cigarette and dropped it gingerly into a how! ({ ally be made. Let me assure you that it | can. The gentlemen whom I prosented | to you a few minutes ago—Mr, Bordon | s my lawyer. Mr. Bordon has drawn up the deed of gift which is inclosed | with these banknotes in which I set| forth my intantions coherently and, 1| think, with intelligence. ‘The other | entleman, to whom I presented you— | Dr. Helsby—is my physician. If at | any time you should be in n2ed of ad- | Aowers }.)lc:‘.éll]' bB:‘.m:!. ll, can ns‘surc you l“:mt‘ -+ a9 L pr. [els] eputation is more than ;‘Later," his host proceeded. “it would | jocal. ~Now Dr. Helsby has given a Interest me to have your opinion of | certificate, which is also appended to that wine. For the immediate present | (he dead of the gift, in which he ad- | you would, I dare say, like to know the { mits that mentelly I am perfect in | reason why I have engaged such AN | health, that I am ‘ebsolutely conscions | unusual effort to secure the pleasure of it Ll of what I am doing and therefore in “The Forlunate Waylarer.” PR AR . > Martin toyed with his wine glass and | took further note of his fellow guesis | In somewhot dazed fashion, He had an instinet for such matters and he real- | Ized quite well that these men were of | a different class to any with whom he | had been previous'y assoclated | should lke to know what it all | means, If you don’t mind, Mr.—Mr.— | Ardrington,” he confessed. “Lord Ardrington,” the man on his left,_whispered | “That is of no consequence,” the | person so designated declared. “Here, | | then is my explanation. Permit me to ||| make you known to the rest of the comp- | 1§ v. Mr, Martin Barnes, whom under | [ the circumstances we will call “The | Tortunate Wayfarer'—Dr, Helsby on my | ight here, my physician—Mr. Bordon, | ihv your side, my lawyer—and facing me,'a young man known very well in | certain” circles of modern life ‘as Gerry Garnham, but more formally designated the Honorab's Gerald Garnham nhew and the heir to my estat s oll this part of the joke? young man in question sneered. “You ere very hard to convince, my | dear G his unele complained [ “but T e ire you that the joke does | not exist. The only person in & position | to extract element of humor from | tonight's proceedings will be myself | Now, my dear Mr.—-Mr. Barnes, let me | further "confide to you the somewhat Istressing information that in all prob- ebility within a week from this date 1 ol he dead, You will find no one | here likely to dispute my statement— | my doctor less fhan anyone. You are !Uhfl y too rensible a young man to wave made an intimate study of peerage Land you are therefore not aware that [ for a_twelfth holder of the title, I am | singularly devold of relutives | nephew,” the young man opposite, s my helr, Lord Ardrington he most cer i tuinly will be, and by no possible means can 1 rob him of the title, but in those, | probably the last days of my life, T find | | meaelf “forced to remember that in | every possible manner my graceless nce 8,950 ' These homes have just been completed and rep- the in terial and workmanship resent best ma- offered at this price. Go out Conn. Ave. to Shep: herd St., then cast to Brooke. ville Road and north to Turner St. | nephew has displeased and angered me The Honorable Gerald kept silen with an_evident effort at self-restraint His uncle sighed as though a little dis appointed that he had falled to elicit s retort, “Look hare, we don't seem to be get Main 2126 tng ov," mxuxl-mu ventured, "I = an extraordinary gift as mine can leg- | g, | CHEVY CHASE, MD. | 417 and 419 Turner Easy MEASURES 7,651 MILES By the Associated Press. CHICAGO, August 4.—Prof. Frank | Ross of the University of Chicago bas returned from California, where he took some pictures of Venus. The pletures show Venus without the usual drapery of clouds which here- tofore have balked astronomers’ efforts to get accurate data on the changes in the Venus figure. Prof. Ross found that Venus is 7.651 miles wide at the waist line, and that she is 2 per cent plumper than previous estimate: credited her with being. The study indicated to Prof. Ress that Venus re- quires 30 days to make a complete | turn. Prof. Ross used the big telescope at Mount Wilson Observatory and em- ployed new and special equipment. T a v 40,150 5 rooms and sleeping porch Tiled bath Builtin tub and shower Open fireplace Ouk floors throughout Hot-water heat ern plumbi per wire sereens Cement porches Builtin garage 50%100 ., and fenced Conerete paved street sodded : | JACOBSON BROS. OWNERS--BUILDERS 1302 L Su. N.W, Wis, 2016 Walter A. Dunigan Quality-Built Homes Only One Left Semi-Detached Homes Lot 28 Feet Wide, 144 Feet Deep All Large, Outside Rooms—Real Open Fireplace rooms and a completely equipped bath 'w_i(h shower: large kitchen and brick pantry with tiling around sink. Cold storage room in cellar. Very large House sereened throughout. 6 porches front and rear. Inspect. 5720 5th St. N.W. Open and Lighted Daily and Sunday Until 9 PM. Drive out 16th St. or Georgia Ave. to Longfellow St., east to 5th St. and look for our signs. Or call our office, Main 4098, for auto to inspect. WALTER A. DUNIGAN MAIN 4098 925 15th St. N.W. North Cleveland Park ) 36th and Veazey Sts. N.W. Conn. Ave. to Bureau of Standards, West 2 Blocks on Pierce Mill Road 14,950 Real Values English Cottage Type Homes Eight rooms, bath and extra lavatory; semi-detached brick, artistically built. Homes of superior construction, ideally located near large estates and Bureau of Standards, overlooking Connecticut Avenue. Not just the stereotyped homes vou are accustomed to seeing, but superior in every detail. Inspection invited. CHAS. D. SAGER Builder Realtor Owner Main 36 924 14th St. N.W. | Ofpen Today and All Day Sunday 1347 Kennedy St. N.W. A real home in a beautiful restricted seoction, yet convenient to schools, stores and transportation. It has just been re- decorated outside and in, and we can truthfully say it is better Not one penny to s d, as it is weat ~stripped reens and awnings for entire house. Living room and r bedroom across entire width of houw open fireplace, etc. Front, side and large rear yards are beaut fully landscaped with shrubbery. WA beautiful home and a real sound investment, as it is underpriced $3,000.00. Drive out, take 14th Street car to Kennedy, or ca!l us for auto service. The main thing is, we are proud to have this house at this price, and want you to s Sales(‘ METZLER Realtor t. Buy in Washington Decatur 38 1106 Vt. Ave. Sunday and Night—Adams 620