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 250
F x = 0: 10 −
261
FAB = 0 FAB = 10.44 kN
Thus,
10.44(103 )
 AB = = 20.88kN
0.5

SOLUTION (2.3)
25.8 kN
2.15 m 8.6 kN
2.15 mm 0.72 m

B 1 C
FAC 2

2.4 m
Load resultants are shown in the figure (above). Hence
1
M B = 0 : 25.8(2.15) + 8.6(2.15 + 0.72) − FAC
5
(2.4) = 0
or
FAC = 74.68 kN
Thus,
74.68(103 )
AAC = = 933.5(10−6 ) m 2 = 933.5 mm 2 = 908.4 mm 2
80 10 6

SOLUTION (2.4)
From geometry d+L
2a = da ; d=L
2a x
= xx ; wx = aL x
a w
L a
and Ax = wx t = atL x P P 0
Thus,
 = 
2L 2L
Pdx
Ax E = PL
atE
dx
x = PL
atE ln x|2LL L d
L L

= PL
atE ln 2

SOLUTION (2.5)
J = 2 (754 − 654 ) = 21.661 10−6 m 4 weld
c=0.075 m  = 40 o

 xy = Tr
J , x =  y = 0 x
Using Eq. (1.11a);
 x ' = 0 + 0 +  xy sin 2
or
200(10 6 ) = T = 58.65 kN  m
T ( 0.075 )( 0.985 )
21.661(10− 6 )
;

SOLUTION (2.6)

12
 J b = 2 (0.034 − 0.024 ) = 102.102(10−8 ) m 4
Statics: Ts + Tb = 1 kN  m (a)
Geometry:
c = =
Tbb Ts b
 
2 ( 0.03 − 0.02 )( 4210 ) )( 80109 )
4 4 9 4
2 ( 0.02

or
Tb = 21328
. Ts (b)
(CONT.)
(2.6 CONT.)

From Eqs (a) and (b):

Tb = 680.8 N  m Ts = 319.2 N  m
It is required that, A = C + AC :
0.01 = 1
J b Eb [680.8b + 1000( 0.5 − b)] = 102.102500(10−319
−8
.2 b
)( 42109 )
Solving, b=0.223 m = 223 mm

SOLUTION (2.7)
State of pure shear; 1 = − 2 = 
 max = (1 −  2 ) = E (1 +  )
1
E
Thus,
E max
=
3

1+ = 120 (110+0.)(331900 ) = 171.4 MPa

We have
J= Tr
 = 150 ( 0.015 )
171 .4 (10 6 )
= 13.127(10 9 ) m 4
Hence
J = 32 (304 − d 4 ) = 13.172(103 ) mm 4
Solving, d = 28.68 mm

SOLUTION (2.8)

(a)  max = 32VA = 32 pL 2

bh = 3 pL
4 bh
(a)

 max = McI = ( pLbh8)(12h 2) = 34 bhpL

2 2

3 2 (b)
Thus,
 max  max = h L (c)
Equation (c):

L = h  allall = 0.15( 1.59 ) = 0.9 m

( b ) Equation (a):
pall = 43 bhL  all = 34 0.050.9
0.15
(1.5 106 ) = 16.67 kN m

SOLUTION (2.9) p
w
h
L pL/2
pL/2 b

V, kN pL/2
13 x
-pL/2
M kN m Mmax= pL2/8
 (CONT.)
(2.9 CONT.)

3 V 3 pL 2 3 pL
 max = = = (a)
2 A 2 bh 4 bh
Mc pL 8(h 2) 3 pL2
2
 max = = = (b)
I bh 3 12 4 bh 2
Thus,
 max  max = h L (c)

For example, if L = 10h , the above ratio is 1 10 .

SOLUTION (2.10) P
L/2 C L/2
h=2c
L P/2
P/2

V ( kN) P/2

x
-P/2
M PL/4
( ) x

From Table B.6:

4V 4 P 2 2 P
 max = = =
3 A 3  c2 3  c2
Also
Mc 4M PL
 max = = =
I  c3  c3
Thus,  max  max = 2c 3L = h 3L
For example, if L = 10h , the above quotient is 1 30 .

SOLUTION (2.11)
1 1
I= (120)(160)3 − (96)(124)3
12 12
= 25.7(10 ) mm
6 4 y
18
( a ) Maximum shear stress (at N.A.): a a

14
 Q = (120)(80)(40) − (96)(62)(31)
12
= 199.5(103 ) mm 3 C 160
z
−6
VQ 250(10 )(199.5  10 )
3
 max = = 12 18
Ib 25.7(10−6 )(0.24)
= 8.09 MPa 120
(CONT.)
(2.11 CONT.)

( b ) Minimum shear stress (at section a-a):

Q = (120)(18)(80 − 9) = 153.36(103 ) mm 3
VQ 250(103 )(153.36  10−6 )
 min = = = 6.22 MPa
Ib 25.7(10−6 )(0.24)
y
SOLUTION (2.12)
t

a4 1 A A
Iz = − (a − 2t ) 4
12 12 z C a
2004 1 t
= − (170) 4 = 63.73(10)6 mm 4
12 12
a
( a ) Maximum shear stress (at N.A.).
a a a a 1
Q = a( )( ) − (a − 2t )( − t )( − t )( )
2 4 2 2 2
1
= (200)(100)(50) − (170)(85)(85)( )
2
= 385,875mm 3

VQ 120(103 )(385,875)
 max = = = 24.22 MPa
Ib (63.73)(106 )(2  15)

( b ) Minimum shear stress (at section A-A).

a t
Q = at ( − ) = (200)(15)(92.5) = 88, 425 mm3
2 2
VQ 120(103 )(88,425)
 max = = = 5.55 MPa
Ib (63.73(106 )(2  15)

SOLUTION (2.13)

We have
1
I= (30)(150)3 = 8.44(10−6 ) m 4
12
QD = (0.03)(0.05)(0.0625) = 93.75(10−6 ) m3
P
1.2 m 1.2 m

mm 150 mm
D 25
mmm
P/2 0.9 m P/2
15 30 mm
mmmm
 (CONT.)

(2.13 CONT.)

M D = 0.45P VD = 0.5P
Mc 0.45P(0.025)
D = = = 1333P
I 8.44  10−6
VQ 0.5P(93.75  10−6 )
D = = = 185.13P
Ib 8.44  10−6 (0.03)

Equation (1.13):
1333P 1333 2
( 1 ) D = 15  106 = +P ( ) + (185.13) 2
2 2
= 666.5P + 691.7 P = 1358.2 P
or
Pall = 11.04 kN

SOLUTION (2.14)
EIw IV = p = ( L2 − x 2 ), EIw''' = ( L2 x − x3 ) + c1
po po 3

L2 L2
Boundary Condition:
w'''( L ) = 0; c1 = − 23 po L
EIw" = − 12 ) + c1 x + c2
po x2 4

L2
( L2 2
x

Boundary Conditions:
po L2
EIw"( L ) = 0; c2 = 4

EIw" = (3L4 − 8 L3 x + 6 L2 x 2 − x 4 )
po
12 L2

EIw' = 12 L2 (3L4 x − 8 L3 + 6 L2 − ) + c3
po x2 x3 x5
2 3 5
Boundary Condition:
EIw'( 0) = 0; c3 = 0.
EIw = 12 L2 (3L − 4 L3 + 2 L2 − ) + c4
p0 4 x2 x3 x4 x6
2 3 4 30
Boundary Condition:
w( 0) = 0; c4 = 0
po x 2
Thus, w= 360 EIL2
( 45L4 − 40 L3 x + 15L2 x 2 − x 4 )
At x=L;
19 po L4 po L3
wB = 360 EI B = wB ' = 15 EI

SOLUTION (2.15)
pa
p
Refer to Table B.7 ( Case 5 and 7 ):

L
B C 16

A
 − pL3 pL ( 4 a 2 + L2 )
B = + =
MBL
24 EI 3 EI 24 EI
Deflection w1 of A due to only B :
paL ( 4 a 2 − L2 )
w1 = B a = 24 EI

(CONT.)
(2.15 CONT.)

Table B.7 ( Case 2 with b=0 ), cantilever:

pL3 pL4
w2 = 24 EI (4L − L) = 8 EI
Total deflection
wA = w1 + w2 = (3L4 + 4a 2 L − L3 )
pa
24 EI

SOLUTION (2.16)

EIw IV = p0 sin Lx ; EIw' ' ' = − po ( L ) cos + c1

EIw" = − po ( L ) 2 sin Lx + c1 x + c2

Boundary Conditions:
w"( 0) = 0, c2 = 0; w'' ( L ) = 0, c1 = 0
EIw' = po ( L )3 cos Lx + c3
EIw = po ( L ) 4 sin Lx + c3 x + c4

Boundary Conditions:
w( 0) = 0, c4 = 0; w( L ) = 0, c3 = 0
Thus
po L4
w=  4 EI
sin Lx
= −B
po L3
Slope at x=0:  A = w'1 ( 0) =  3 EI

SOLUTION (2.17)

x P
Symmetry
M A = − MB
A C B
RA = RB = P2
Segment AC
EIw IV = 0, EIw'' ' = c1 , EIw'' = c1 x + c2

EIw' = 12 c1 x 2 + c2 x + c3
EIw = 16 c1 x 3 + 12 c2 x 2 + c3 x + c4 (a)
We have
EIw' ' ' ( 0 ) = c1 = −V = − P2
EIw''( 0) = c2 = −( − M A ): c2 = M A

17
 w' ( 0) = 0: c3 = 0, w' ( L2 ) = 0: MA = − MB = PL
8

w( 0) = 0: c4 = 0

Equation (a) is thus

w= Px 2
48 EI (3L − 4 x )
SOLUTION (2.18)

We have 250 2 = 125 MPa . Equation (2.30b) gives the limiting value of
pressure for the tangential stress as
 all t
= 125100.2(0.005) = 3.125 MPa
6
p= r

Note that, the axial stress formula, Eq. (2.38a) requires

 all t
p=2 r = 6.25 MPa

SOLUTION (2.19)
1.2 kN/m
V = 3 − 1.5(1.2) = 1.2 kN
M = 3(1.5) − 12 (1.2)(1.5) 2 = 3.15 kN  m
M A
x Point A
V B
 = McI = 0,   = pr
t = 4 (10 4 )( 0.5 )
0.005 = 4 MPa
z 1.5 m R=3 kN  x =  a = 2 MPa

Table B-4;
12000 (rt )(
 = VQ
Ib = = 153 kPa
2r
)
r t ( 2 t ) 3

 max = [( 2−2 4 ) 2 + (0.153) 2 ] = 1.012 MPa

1
2
Thus
s = 12 tan −1 2( 20−.153
4
) = −40.65
o

Point B;
= Mc
I = 3150 ( 0.5 )
 ( 0.5 ) 3 ( 0.005 )
= 802.1 kPa , =
VQ
Ib =0
 1 =   = 4 MPa ,  2 = 2 + 0.802 = 2.802 MPa
and
 max = 12 (4 − 2.802) = 599 kPa , s = 45o

SOLUTION (2.20)

(a) A = 2 rt
= 2 (250)(10) = 15, 708 mm 2
  = 4(100.01
6
A
)(0.25)
= 100 MPa
 x = 15,708(10
3
500(10 )
−6
)
+ 50 = 81.8 MPa

(b)  max = 12 [100 − 81.8] = 9.1 MPa

18
45o

x
  ' = 12 (  +  x ) = 90.9 MPa

SOLUTION (2.21)

At a point on circumference, we have

a = pr
2t = 4 (100 )
2 (8) = 25 MPa ,   = 50 MPa
= P
2rt = 50 (10 3 )
2 (100 )(8)10 − 6
= 9.947 MPa
 = TrJ = −30 (10 3 )( 0.1)
2 ( 0.1)3 ( 0.008 )
= −59.68 MPa
Thus
1,2 =  [( 34.952 −50 )2 + 59.68 2 ] 2
34.95+50 1
2

= 42.48  6012
.
or
 1 = 102.6 MPa ,  2 = −17.64 MPa
(a) 1   u ; 102.6  240  no failure

1 2
(b) u =  uc = 1; 102.6
240 − −17.64
600 =1
or
0.428+0.029 < 1  no failure

SOLUTION (2.22)

1,2 = −100−50
 [( −1002+50 )2 + 30 2 ] 2
1
2
or
 2 = −36 MPa ,  3 = −114 MPa ,  1 = 60 MPa
u
(a) n= 1 = 150
60 = 2.5
or n= 150
114 = 132
.

(b) 60
150 − −114
600 = 1n ; 0.4 + 019
. = 1
n
Solving n=1.7

SOLUTION (2.23)

We have σall = 250/2.2 =113.6 MPa. From Eq. (2.38b) we find that the limiting value of pressure
 all t 113.6(106 )(0.0036)
p= = = 454.4 kPa
r 0.9
for circumferential stress. The axial stress is thus

19
  all t
p=2 = 908.8 kPa
r
Comment: The gage pressure may not exceed 454.4 kPa.

SOLUTION (2.24)

The tangential, axial, and radial streses are:

pr pr
 = = 25 p a = = 12.5 p z = 0
t 2t
( a ) Using Equation 2.42a, we have:
1
25 p = (260)(106 ), p = 5.78 MPa
1.8
( b ) From Equation:
260
p(252 – 25 x 12.5 + 12.52 )1/2 = , p = 6.67 MPa
1.8
Comment: The allowable value of the maximum pressure is limited to 5.78 MPa.

SOLUTION (2.25)

At a point on the surface of the shaft, we have

J= 
32 (75) 4 = 3.106(106 ) mm 4
A = 4 (75) 2 = 4.418(103 ) mm 2
= P
A = 40 (10 3 )
4.418 (10 − 3 )
= 9.054 MPa
 = TrJ = 6 (10 3 )( 0.0375 )
3.106 (10 − 6 )
= 72.44 MPa
Thus
1,2 = 9.054
2  [( 2 ) + 72.44 ] = 4.527  72.581
1
9.054 2 2 2

 1 = 77.11 MPa ,  2 = −68.05 MPa

= [( 7711
. )2 − ( 7711
. )( −68.05) + ( −68.05)2 ] 2
1
250
(a) n
or n=1.99

 yp
(b) 1 −  2 = n ; . + 68.05 =
7711 250
n
or n=1.72

SOLUTION (2.26)

At the fixed end A(see Fig. P2.26):

T = 1.2 R M z = 1.6R Vy = − R
The effect of Vy may be neglected. Thus, at a point A on the top of the bar at the fixed end:

20
 32M 32(1.6 R)
x = = = 7.545 R
A  d 3  (0.06)3
16T 16(1.2 R)
 =− 3 =− = −2.829 R
d  (0.06)3
(CONT.)
(2.26 CONT.)

Then
7.545R 7.545R 2
 1,2 =  ( ) + ( −2.829 R) 2
2 2
1 = 8.487  104 R  2 = −0.943  104 R  max = 4.715  104 R

130  106
(a) = 4.715  104 R, R = 1.45 kN
1.9

(b) 12 − 1 2 +  22 = ( yp ns )2

1
[8.4872 − 8.487( −0.943) + ( −0.943)2 ] 2 (104 ) R = 240  106 / 1.9
or
R = 1.404 kN

SOLUTION (2.27)
y

1.6 m
A
A
B
z
50 mm x
50R
R At the fixed end:
T = 1.2 R M z = 1.6 R
C Px = 50R Vy = − R
R
The effect of Vy may be neglected. Therefore, at point A:
Px 50 R
x ' = = = 1.768  104 R
A 
(0.06)2
4
32 32(1.6 R )
 x '' = 3 = = 7.545  104 R
d  (0.06) 3

16T 16(1.2 R )
 =− 3 =− = −2.829  104 R
d  (0.06) 3

9.313 9.313 2
 1,2 = 104 R[  ( ) + ( −2.829)2 ]
2 2

21
 1 = 10.106  104 R  2 = −0.793  104 R  max = 5.449  104 R

130  106
(a) = 5.449  104 R, R = 1.26 kN
1.9
(CONT.)

(2.27 CONT.)

1  yp
(b) [ 12 −  1 2 +  22 ] 2
=
2
1
104 R[(10.106) 2 − (10.106)(−0.793) + (−0.793) 2 ] 2
= 240 106 /1.9
Solving,
R = 1.2 kN

SOLUTION (2.28)
Q p
Using equations of statics;
RA = + RB = +
pL Qb pL Qa
A B 2 L , 2 L
D
Then
L px 2 px '2
M AD = RA x + 2 , M BD = RB x'+ 2 ;
M AD M BD
Q = bx
L , Q = ax '
L
Applying Eq. (2.57):
[ ( Lx − x 2 )( bx )dx +  ( Lx'− x' 2 )( ax' )dx' ]
a b
wD =
p
2 EIL
0 0
Integrating, we have
wD = [4 L( a 2 + b2 ) − 3( a 3 + b3 )]
pab
24 EIL

SOLUTION (2.29)
Q p
Segment AC
A B M1
M1 = ( + 2 ) x, =
pL Q x
C 8 Q 2
Segment BC
L/2 L/2 px '2 M2
M2 = ( + 2 ) x '− =
3 pL Q x'
8 2 , Q 2
Let Q=0, Thus, Eq. (2.57):
L L

EIwC =  dx +  (
px '3 pL4
x '− ) x2' dx ' = 165
2 pLx x 2 3 pL
8 2 8 2 48
0 0
4
or wC = 5 pL
768 EI

SOLUTION (2.30)
P
(a) a We have
Q M AB = Px M BC = Pa
B A
L C

22
C
  M  dx
M i
v = 1
EI i P

[ ( Px )( x )dx +  ( Pa )( a )dx ]
a L
= 1
EI
0 0

= 1
EI ( + a L) =
a3
3
2 Pa 2
3 EI ( a + 3L)

(CONT.)
(2.30 CONT.)

( b ) Add Q at A. Hence,
[ M AB dx +  M BC
a M AB L M BC
H = 1
EI Q Q dx,
0 0
where M AB = Px, M BC = Pa + Qx
Let Q=0, Then
 H = 0 +  ( Pa )( x )dx =
L
PaL2
2 EI
0

( c ) Add C at A. We have

 M  dx where M = Px + C ,
Mi
= 1
EI i C AB M BC = Pa + C

[ ( Px + C )dx +  ( Pa + C )dx ]
a L
A = 1
EI
0 0
For C=0:
A = ( a2 + aL) = (a + 2 L)
2
P Pa
EI 2 EI

SOLUTION (2.31)

(a) M AC = Rx + M , M BC = Rx + M − P( x − L2 )

M M
Mi Mi
A = 1
EI i M dx, w = 1
EI i R dx
R x
We have
L

{ ( Rx + M )dx + L [ Rx + M − P( x − L2 )]dx}
L
A =
2
1
EI
0 2
L
(a)
{ ( Rx + M ) xdx + L [ Rx + M − P( x − )]xdx}
L
wA =
2
1 L
EI 2
0 2

Boundary conditions are  ( 0) = 0 and w( 0) = 0 . Thus, after integrating Eqs.(a):

A = + − 8PLEI = 0
2 2
RL ML
2 EI EI

wA = PL3
+ ML2
− 48 EI = 0
3
5 PL
3 EI 2 EI

From which
RL2 + 2 ML = PL4
2

RL3 + 23 ML2 = 165 PL3

Solving
M = − PL
8 =
PL
8 R= P
2

23
 L L

wC = [ ( Rx + M ) xdx ] = [ ( P2 x −
2 2
1 1 PL
(c) EI EI 8 ) xdx ]
0 0

= 192PLEI = wmax
3

SOLUTION (2.32)
M AC = RA x, M BC = RA x − M

 M  dx
Mi
A C B wA = 1
EI i RA
x
[ ( R x )( x )dx +  ( R
a 2a
a a wA = 1
EI A A x − M )( x )dx ]
0 a
3
= − 23 Ma
EI = 0
8 RA a 2

3 EI

from which R A = 169 Ma

Statics:
 F = 0:
y RB = − RA
 M = 0: B M B − M + RA ( 2a ) = 0
or
MB = − M
8 = M
8

24
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
The morning wore on. A long council of war was held, but
the rain did not abate.

Not indeed until we sat down to luncheon at twelve did the

weather clear, and with it our spirits rose again. At half-past
one the clouds broke and the sun came forth fitfully. Then
all four of us, eager to investigate, and not knowing what
difficulties were before us, mounted into the wagonette and
drove out along the winding road to Kelton Mains.

On descending, a surprise awaited us, for when we asked

for the tools sent there from Grierson’s the farmer told us
that three gentlemen, one a deformed man, had arrived
there the day before, claimed the picks and spades, and
had crossed to the island and been occupied in digging until
it was dark.

The trio of investigators might still be on the island for

aught we knew.

This was certainly disconcerting, and we walked through the

fields to the water’s edge full of expectancy. We, however,
found the old boat moored in its usual place, which showed
that the party had returned to shore. Therefore we
embarked, eager to take observations and follow the
directions laid down, even if we were not that day able to
make investigation.

Sammy took one oar and I the other, and very soon the
keel ran into the mud bank of the island, and the grey,
dismal old castle, with its “hanging stone,” towered above
us. In an instant all four of us sprang ashore, the boat was
moored, and we started off in the direction of the great
ruin. Fortunately the sun was now shining brightly, and
there, sure enough, lay the long, straight shadow across the
wet grass in our direction.
I looked at my watch and found it a quarter-past three. In
fifteen minutes we should be able to follow accurately the
directions.

Suddenly, to our dismay, we saw, as we approached the

point where the shadow ended, that a great hole had been
dug in the immediate vicinity. We rushed forward with one
accord, and in an instant the truth was plain—investigations
had already been made!

The hole was a deep one, disclosing a flight of spiral stone

steps which led to a subterranean chamber, the dungeon,
perhaps, of some building long since effaced. At any rate, it
showed that the excavators had hit upon some underground
construction, the nature of which we knew not. The tools
had been left there unheeded, as though the trio had
departed hurriedly.

“That’s curious!” Wyman cried to me. “Read old Godfrey’s

instructions aloud to us.”

I took out of my pocket a book in which I had made a note

of the exact wording, and read to my companions as
follows:

“DIRECTIONS FOR RECOVERING THE CASKET.

“Go unto the castle at 3:30, when the sun shines, on

September 6th, and follow the shadow of the east angle of
the keep, forty-three paces from the inner edge of the
moat.”

Sammy then measured the paces, and found they were, as

specified, forty-three.

I again glanced at my watch. It was just half-past three.

“Then, with the face turned straight towards Bengairn, walk
fifty-six paces,” I said, reading from the record.

Sammy took his bearings, and was starting off when I

heard a footstep on the grass behind me, and, turning
suddenly, found myself face to face with the man Selby,
who, until that moment, had evidently been hiding in the
ruins, watching us.

“By what right are you here?” he demanded.

“By the same right as yourself?” was my response. “What

right have you to challenge us?”

By the man’s dark, smooth face I saw he meant mischief.

“I have been left in charge of this property by its owner,”

the man declared. “You have no right to land here without
his permission, therefore I order you to return to the
shore.”

“Ho! ho!” cried Sammy, in quick defiance, “those are fine

words, to be sure. I fancy you’d better remain quiet, or we
shall have to be very unkind to you.”

“What do you mean?” the big fellow cried in a bullying tone.

“I mean that we aren’t going to be interrupted by you,” was

Sammy’s cool rejoinder. “If your friends have gone away
and left you alone, like Robinson Crusoe, on this island, it
isn’t our concern. The laird of this place is still Colonel
Maitland, and you have no authority here whatever.”

“I forbid you to take any observations,” Selby shouted, his

fists clenched as though he would attack us. “And as for
that man there,” he cried, pointing to me, “he’d best get
away before my friends return.”
“Now that’s enough,” cried Sammy. “We don’t want any
threats;” and, before Selby was aware of his intention, the
other had seized him by the wrists and was calling to us to
secure him with the cord I had carried from the boat. He
cursed and struggled violently, but in the hands of the four
of us he was quickly bound and rendered powerless, much
to his chagrin. He commenced shouting, whereupon I took
out my handkerchief and gagged him tightly with it. Then,
on his refusal to walk, we all four carried him into the
roofless castle and there bound him to a big iron ring that
we found in one of the walls, and thus made him our
prisoner.

It was the only way. The fellow intended mischief, for we

found in his pocket a loaded revolver. Having relieved him of
that, we left him there, secured in a spot where he could
not observe our movements.

Without loss of time we returned to the place we had

marked, and the athletic Sammy, laughing over Selby’s
utter defeat, set his face towards the distant mountain of
Bengairn and walked fifty-six paces, all three of us walking
beside him to check is measurements.

“Seek there,” I read from my notes, “for my lady Lucrezia’s

treasure is hidden at a place no man knoweth.” Then,
omitting several sentences, I came to the words: “Item:
How to discover the place at Threave: First find a piece of
ruined wall of great stones, one bearing a circle cut upon it
as large as a man’s hand. Then, measuring five paces
towards the barbican, find—” And there the record broke
off.

“Look?” cried Fred, pointing to a small piece of ruined wall

about a foot high cropping up out of the tangled weeds and
nettles. “Those are evidently the stones, and yet you’d
never notice it unless it were pointed out.”

We all four rushed to the spot he indicated, and, on tearing

the weeds away, there, sure enough, we discovered that
one of the large moss-grown moor-stones bore a circle cut
upon it about the size of one’s palm.

“Five paces towards the barbican!” cried Walter. “One—two

—three—four—five! Here you are?” and he stamped heavily
upon the grass. “Why,” he exclaimed, “it’s hollow!”

We all stamped, and sure enough there was a cavity

beneath.

With Fred, I rushed off to the hole dug by our enemies, and,
obtaining their tools, brought them back. Although the
record in The Closed Book was carried no farther, it was
evident that some opening lay underneath where we stood.

As the excavation made by our enemies was three hundred

yards away, in an opposite direction, we concluded that
they had only deciphered the first portion of the directions
and not that final or unfinished sentence in the record, a
page of which was missing.

Without further ado, however, we seized pick and spade,

and commenced to open the ground at the spot where it
sounded hollow. At a depth of about two and a half feet,
through stone and rubbish, we came upon a big flat slab,
like a paving-stone.

Was it possible that the historic emeralds of Lucrezia Borgia

were actually hidden beneath? Our excitement knew no
bounds, especially so as Selby had loosened his gag, and
we could hear him shouting and cursing in the distance. We
had, however, no fear of his shouts attracting attention, for
the spot was far too lonely, and his voice would not reach
the river bank, so broad was the stream.

With a keen will we all worked, digging out the earth from
around the slab until at last I drove the end of a pick
beneath it, and, using it as a lever, succeeded in raising the
huge flat stone sufficiently to allow the insertion of a
crowbar. Then, all bending together, we raised it up,
disclosing a deep, dark, cavernous hole which emitted the
damp, earthy smell of the grave.

“Who’ll go down with me?” asked Fred.

“I’ll go presently,” volunteered Sammy, “when the place has

had a bit of airing. There’s foul air there, I expect. Perhaps
it’s a well.”

Fortunately we had provided ourselves with two hurricane

lanterns, and one of these I lit and lowered into the hole by
a string. It remained alight, showing us, first, that the air
was not foul; and, secondly, that the place was not a well,
but a small stone chamber, the floor of which was covered
with broken rubbish, and that the walls were black with
damp and slime—not at all an inviting place in which to
descend.

Fred was the first to let himself down, and, taking the
lantern, he disappeared.

“I say,” he cried a minute later, “it isn’t a chamber. It’s a

kind of low tunnel—a subterranean passage!”

The announcement caused us even increased excitement;

and, while Sammy and I let ourselves down to join Fred, we
arranged that Walter, armed with Selby’s revolver, should
remain on the surface and so guard against any trickery on
the part of the man who was our prisoner. It would, we
knew, be easy enough to trap us like rats while we were
down there.

“Wait till we come back, Walter!” I cried, and then, with my

lamp, followed my two companions into the narrow burrow
which ran down a steep incline in a southerly direction. Fred
went first; but so dark was the way and so blocked in parts
by fallen stones that our progress was very slow. We
remembered that in such places of secret communication
there were often pitfalls for the unwary; hence the caution
we exercised.

We had pursued our way for, as far as we could judge,

nearly a quarter of a mile, Sammy and Fred joking all the
while, when the passage gave a sudden turn and
commenced to ascend. This alteration in its direction struck
me as curious, because, up to that moment we had walked
in an absolutely straight line. But as I turned aside to follow
my friends a small touch of colour on the wall attracted my
attention; and, halting, I held up my lamp to examine it.

It was a crude drawing of a bull, outlined roughly in paint

that had once been scarlet, but was now nearly brown,
owing to the action of time and damp.

“Look?” I cried, almost beside myself with excitement.

“Look! The red bull of the Borgias! The casket is concealed
here!”
 Chapter Thirty Five.
What we Found at Threave.

The bull passant gules of the Borgias was certainly a

significant sign, deep there in the bowels of the earth, so
far from the scene of the Borgias’ forgotten triumphs.

My two companions were beside me in an instant, and both

agreed that the bull placed there was a signal to the person
who gained the secret of The Closed Book—an invitation to
search at that spot.

All three of us closely examined the rough stones with

which the low tunnel was arched; but none of them showed
signs of having been disturbed. The passage had, without
doubt, been constructed by the Black Douglas as a secret
means of ingress and egress to his stronghold, and most
probably all trace of it had been lost in the day of Godfrey
Lovel. He and his friend Malcolm had perhaps rediscovered
it, and old Godfrey had there ingeniously hidden the
precious casket which he had brought from Italy, and which
had for years previously been concealed in the fish pond at
Croyland, or Crowland, as it is now spelt.

The position in which the bull had been drawn showed that
it was placed there to attract the eye of the person
possessing the secret. To any other it would convey
nothing. Yet, although we searched hither and thither, high
and low, we discovered no cavity nor any place where the
casket was likely to be concealed.

Presently, after full half an hour’s search, Fred discovered

upon the flat surface of a stone some little distance further
up the tunnel the numeral “15” marked in the same paint,
and evidently put there by the same hand as that which had
drawn the bull—only with one of those queer sixteenth-
century fives like a capital N turned the wrong way about.

“Can this mean that the place is fifteen paces off?” I

queried.

“Or it may be fifteen stones away,” suggested Sammy,

starting at once to count them. “Why, look!” he cried a few
moments later; “here’s a stone that’s been removed at
some time or other.” It was a block about two feet long, and
when I rushed forward and touched it, it moved beneath my
hand.

Without a second’s hesitation I grasped it, and with all my

might tugged it out of me wall, allowing it to fall to the
ground with a heavy thud, Sammy being compelled to step
aside quickly.

Then, plunging my hand deep into the cavity behind, I felt

something and pulled it out, with a loud cry of joy, which
was echoed by my two companions.

It was the long-lost casket!

About a foot and a half long, ten inches in height, and six
broad, it was covered with stout old untanned leather, the
lid being curved and studded with nails. The lock was an
antique, and therefore a complicated one, no doubt; but
having no key, we at once set to work to force it open with
the short crowbar which I had carried down there. So
stoutly made was that ancient box that had seen so many
vicissitudes and hid in the mud of the abbey fish pond at
Crowland for many years, that for some time I could not
manage to force it open; but after several trials, in the dim,
uncertain light, I at length succeeded in wrenching up the
lid, and there found within several old jewel cases which, on
being opened, were found to contain those wonderful
emeralds which were the most valued treasures of the
Borgias.

We handled them gingerly, at my suggestion, not knowing

whether those faded, velvet-lined old cases might not be
envenomed with poison of the Borgias, like the vellum
leaves of The Closed Book.

The jewels we examined were, however, magnificent in their

antique gold settings. Three collars of wonderful green
gems, each emerald the size of one’s thumb nail, and each
set separately to form drops, were the first ornaments we
drew forth—emerald collars of which we knew the world had
never seen the equal. Several bracelets, pairs of earrings,
and pendants were also among the collection; one emerald,
unset, and evidently the greatest treasure, being almost the
size of a pigeon’s egg—a truly marvellous set of gems, the
like of which none of us had ever before set eyes upon.

There were eight small cases in all, seven of them as full of

jewels as they could hold, while the eighth contained that
which, in the day of Lucrezia Borgia, was more powerful and
potent than the mere possession of wealth—a small sealed
bottle of rock crystal and a larger phial of greenish Venetian
glass, the latter containing a thick dark-brown fluid.

This latter discovery interested my companions, who were

much puzzled by it. But I knew the truth, and told them so.
That tiny crystal bottle contained the actual secret venom of
the Borgias, given by Lucrezia to old Godfrey, and the dark-
brown fluid was the antidote.

The secret poison of the Borgias was no longer a legend. We

had it actually in our possession!
I put my hand again into the cavity, while Sammy raised a
lamp to peer within. But there was nothing else.

With our precious find stowed in our pockets we at last

moved up the incline, in order to explore the full extent of
the subterranean passage. The casket itself interested me;
and, handing my lantern to one of the others, I carried the
heavy old box, which through those centuries had contained
treasure worth a king’s ransom. Then, delighted with our
success, we pushed forward and upward, finding the air
fresher nearly every foot we progressed, until at last, nearly
three-quarters of a mile from the point we had descended,
the tunnel went suddenly upwards, and we found farther
progress barred by a huge oaken door strengthened by a
kind of network of iron battens securely bolted on to it.

We tried it, but it would not budge. It was very strongly

secured on the other side, and all our efforts to open it
proved futile.

Having battered upon it and used our crowbar to little

effect, we heard a frightened and muffled voice on the other
side demanding who and what we were.

“Let us out, old chap?” I shouted. “Can’t you open the door?
Who are you?”

“My name’s John Kirk,” was the man’s hoarse answer.

“Where are you, and who are you?”

“There are three of us. We’ve been along an underground

passage, and this is the end of it. Where are we?”

“This is the old dairy in Threave Mains. Wait a bit, and I’ll
get the master.”
“Threave Mains?” cried Fred. “Then we’ve passed right
under the Dee into Balmaghie! You can see the Mains from
the castle—an old white house about three-quarters of a
mile away. I hope the master, whoever he is, will let us out
of this very soon.”

We did not have to wait long; but the fact was that some
old panelling in the ancient part of the building, now used
as a dairy, had first to be taken down, and then the door
was revealed and opened, letting us out once again to the
light of day.

Truth to tell, we were nothing loath to breathe the fresh air

once more; and the dirty and disreputable figures we cut as
we emerged, I think, filled the good farmer with some
suspicion. We told him of our explorations underground, not
mentioning the treasure, of course, whereupon the old man
said, in his broad Galloway dialect:

“I’ve heard talk of a passage under the river to the castle,

but I thought it was only a fable. I had no idea it ended in
this wall.”

“Well,” said Sammy, “you go down and have a smell round

yourself. You’ll find it interesting. You won’t want a boat in
the future to get over to the island.”

Whereat we all laughed, and after examining the old oak

panelling, and coming to the conclusion that the dairy was
originally the most ancient part of the house, we gave the
farmer a trifle to repay him for the removal of the
woodwork, and departed, carrying the jewels, in their
cases, secreted in our pockets, and leaving the unfortunate
Selby still a prisoner on the island, with Walter guarding
him. One thing was at least reassuring—namely, that the
casket, having been discovered beneath the bed of the
river, could be claimed by neither of the owners of the
property on either side.

In the lightest of spirits we joined the high road at the Black

Bride Burn, and hurried along for a mile to the Bridge of
Dee, where we knew we could obtain a boat to fetch Walter
off the island. This was done, and while Fred and Sammy
rowed back upstream, I idled on the wayside railway station
close to the river, the whole of the jewels being transferred
to my care, while the old casket had been wrapped in a
newspaper we had picked up by the roadside.

The farmer at Threave Mains had looked askance at the old

box until, in order to satisfy him, I showed that it was
empty. He had no use for empty boxes, he said, laughing;
but he was not aware of its precious contents then in our
pockets.

I had a long wait at the railway station; but about six

o’clock my companions returned, bringing Walter with them.
The latter had feared, as we did not return, that some
accident had happened to us, and had been amazed to find
Sammy and Fred, afloat, hailing him.

Selby was still at the place where we had secured him,

bound hand and foot, shouting and cursing until he was
hoarse, and uttering all kinds of threats against us. But we
had secured the historic jewels of the notorious Lucrezia,
and now intended to make the best of our way to Crailloch.
With that intention, therefore, we tidied ourselves as well as
we could, and walked on to Dildawn, the fine estate of our
host’s good friend, Charlie Phillips, and there borrowed a
conveyance to take us home, a distance of about fourteen
miles as the crow flies.
So disreputable our appearance, so mysterious our
movements, not to mention the absence of guns or game
bags, that our friend’s curiosity was aroused; but we merely
explained that we had been out for a day’s excursion and
got stranded, the railway being of no use to us. He gave us
some whisky, smiled knowingly, but was much puzzled.

“My opinion is that you fellows have been up to some trick

or other that you oughtn’t to have been,” was his remark as
we drove away.

“All right, old chap,” shouted Fred; “we’ll tell you all about it
some day.” And the smart pair of bays swung away down
the drive.

We agreed to say nothing to anyone, not even to the rest of

the party at Crailloch. At present, in view of our forthcoming
investigations at Crowland, it was not judicious to make any
statement. We had forestalled our enemies at Threave, and
for the present that was sufficient.

Our tardy and unexpected return gave rise to a good deal of

comment, as may be imagined. The ladies of the party were
soon around Sammy imploring him to tell them the reason
of our mysterious movements, and many questions were
put to Fred by the men. But to all we were dumb. We had
been visiting friends was all we explained.

“Friends!” exclaimed Jack Handsworth, sucking at his cigar.

“Been down a drain somewhere, by the look of your
clothes,” a remark that was greeted with considerable
laughter.

That night, after the others had retired, the four of us held
a secret sitting in Fred’s study, where we examined our find,
and discovered it to be more remarkable and important
than we had believed it to be. The emerald collars were
magnificent; but, besides what I have already enumerated,
there was a magnificent Byzantine cross of diamonds,
containing in the back the relic of St. Peter, which is known
to have been the property of Lucrezia’s father, the Borgia
Pope. In the Vatican archives are several mentions of it; but
on the death of Alexander VI it unaccountably disappeared,
having been given, no doubt, to his golden-haired daughter.
There was a heavy gold bracelet, too, in the form of a
serpent, and several fine rings. One, in gold, was engraved
with the sacred tau, believed in the Borgia era to guard the
wearer against epilepsy; another, of agate, carved with an
image of St. John the Divine, which was worn in those days
as a protection from venom; and in a third was set a piece
of toadstone or bufonite—the fossil palatal tooth of the ray
fish Pycnodus—the most potent periapt against black magic.

The most interesting of all, however, was a beautiful ring of

gold niello, of the fourteenth century, with a hollow bezel or
sharp point pierced by two tiny holes, which had
undoubtedly been used to contain poison. It was quite easy
to see that this ring, if charged with the deadly liquid, could
be used with fatal effect in a hand-grasp with an enemy—a
curio of world-wide interest, the actual poison-ring of that
veneficious bacchante Lucrezia Borgia, which had caused
the death of so many unsuspecting and innocent persons,
from cavaliers in Ferrara to cardinals in Rome.

I turned it over in my hand and felt the sharpness of that

fine needle-point. Surely the controversy regarding the
venom of the Borgias would now be set at rest forever.

The crystal perfume bottle, with its few drops of that deadly
cantarella poison, I held to the light and examined carefully,
as well as the antidote—both presents given to Godfrey by
Lucrezia herself, with instructions how to use them.
I was in the act of replacing both bottles in the old jewel
case, with its faded lining of purple velvet, when I noticed
the top of the lining was loose, and on touching it it fell
away and a small folded piece of damp-stained parchment
came into my hand.

There was faded writing upon it in Godfrey’s erratic script,

and the words I deciphered caused my heart to leap.
 Chapter Thirty Six.
Shows the Actual Spot at Crowland.

The words, badly faded by the action of the water which

had apparently got into the casket during its years of
submersion, we made out as follows:

“Ye who hast dared to learn this secret may ye benefit

greatly by it. Know ye now also that ye may discover the
treasure of our good abbot John of Croylande by means
only of this plan I have hereunto drawn.

“Godfrey Lovel, sometime monk at Croylande.”

Below was a rough plan similar to those in The Closed Book,

but which needed no second glance to show the exact spot
where the abbey treasure lay hidden.

“See?” I cried excitedly. “The secret is at last revealed to

us! What is written in The Closed Book was only in order to
mislead any curious person who attempted to search. The
truth was deposited in this casket by Godfrey before he left
Scotland.”

And my three companions bent eagerly, and for themselves

slowly deciphered the words after I had repeated them
aloud to make certain of no misreading.

“Well, our next step is undoubtedly to go down to

Crowland,” Fred remarked. “Let’s get the treasure first, and
clear up the mystery afterwards.”

“Certainly,” we agreed in chorus, and then, after placing the

Borgia jewels in Fred’s iron safe, we all smoked and
discussed our future plans, finally deciding to go up to
London again in the morning, as Crowland could be more
easily reached from King’s Cross than from Scotland.

Next night, therefore, we arrived in town, Fred and Sammy

putting up at the Euston Hotel, and I going home with
Walter as his guest. On the morning after our arrival I
deemed it wise to pack up the Borgia treasures, all save the
poison-ring, the tiny crystal bottle, and the antidote, and
deposit them with my banker’s manager, just as I had
already placed The Closed Book in safe keeping.

The historic ring that had dealt death so frequently and had
enabled the House of Borgia to become the most powerful
in Europe, I put with the little bottle in the old velvet-lined
jewel case and placed them aside in a drawer in Walter’s
writing-table, intending later to take them down to
Professor Fairbairn at the British Museum.

Fred Fenwicke had some pressing affairs to attend to in

London, therefore it had been arranged not to go to
Crowland till the following day.

We were much puzzled regarding the whereabouts of

Glenelg and the hunchback, and also wondered whether
Selby still remained a prisoner at Threave. The loaded
weapon upon him proved that he intended mischief,
therefore neither of us expressed much regret at leaving
him in such evil case. The silence of his companions was,
however, ominous.

While I had been down at the bank Walter had strolled

round to Harpur Street, only to find the house still closed.
Of Judith’s whereabouts I knew nothing. She had
disappeared. Through those weeks I had been living in
alarm and dread. Scarcely a day passed without some
puzzling incident, and I longed to see my love again and
hear a full and frank explanation from her.

I recollected how, when we had parted outside the town of

Castle-Douglas, I lingered there speaking gently, making a
thousand promises at which she smiled. At last it became
imprudent for us to tarry there longer, and as we stood to
bid each other farewell, face to face, I saw her eyelids
quiver. And then I did not dare to seek her lips.

Yet it was all so strange, so mysterious, such an utter

enigma, that I had become overwhelmed by fear and
suspicion, bewildered, staggered, and aghast.

I idled away the morning, and about noon I received a note

from the woman Bardi, in response to the letter I had sent
her, making an appointment to meet me under the clock at
Charing Cross Station at three o’clock. I was there to time,
and found the dark, neatly dressed figure awaiting me, just
as strange, just as mysterious as before.

We walked together down Whitehall and across St. James’s

Park, chatting affably in Italian. I put to her a number of
questions, but gathered little in response. Her motive
puzzled me, for she neither assisted me nor repeated her
words of warning.

“I am returning to Italy soon,” she told me. “I suppose you

have made up your mind to live here in England in future?”

I responded in the affirmative; and then, halting in the

quiet path beside the lake, I tried to obtain from her the
identity of the person who induced her to steal my
Arnoldus, but she steadily refused to tell me anything.

Just before five o’clock, after giving her tea at Blanchard’s, I

took my leave of her, more than ever puzzled. She had
fenced with every question, and with the exception of giving
me to understand that Judith Gordon was not my friend,
she had really told me nothing. Therefore, I resolved to
trouble myself no further about her in future. The woman
had been proved to be a thief, and therefore unreliable. Yet
my sole aim now was to get at the meaning of the bear cub
in the window, and the actual motive of the remarkable
conspiracy.

On entering the hall in Dover Street I ascended the stairs to

the second floor and rang at the door of Walter’s cozy flat.
There was no response, and at first it struck me that the
faithful Thompson had gone out upon some errand in the
immediate neighbourhood. I pressed the electric bell again
and again, but there was no sign of life within. Of a sudden,
however, I recollected that Walter had that morning given
me a latch-key, and taking it from my pocket I let myself in;
but judge my dismay when in the small hall quite close to
the door I found the white-haired old valet lying half
doubled on the carpet, motionless as one dead.

My first idea was that he might be intoxicated; but on

bending over him, and drawing his face into the light, I saw
that its pallor was deathlike. He seemed to be in a sound
sleep.

Then glancing into the sitting-room at the farther end of the

passage, I noticed that the drawers of Walter’s writing-table
had been broken open and turned hurriedly out on to the
floor. The truth next instant was apparent. The old valet had
been rendered insensible by callers during our absence, and
the place had been ransacked.

I dashed on into the room, and went to the drawer wherein

I had placed the ancient jewel case with its strange
contents, but found it empty. The ring and the poison had
been taken; but what was infinitely worse was that I had
left in the cover of the case, where it had been concealed all
these years, the plan of the hiding-place of the treasure at
Crowland!

I was beside myself with anger and chagrin. Our enemies

had ingeniously outwitted us, after all, for that female
accomplice had held me in conversation purposely while the
search was made, thus showing that they were well
acquainted with our success at Threave.

Yet when Walter had locked the box safely in his drawer
with the key upon his chain. I had never dreamed that a
bold attempt would thus be made to obtain it. Ingenious it
was, for, as was afterwards proved, Wyman himself had
been called by an urgent telegram to Richmond, which
turned out to be fictitious.

At first I was so aghast that I knew not how to act; but,

obtaining the assistance of the young valet in service in the
flat below, I succeeded at last in getting Thompson round
and hearing his story, which was to the effect that about
half-past three o’clock two men called, one of them short
and the other clean-shaven, tall, and powerful. They
inquired for Captain Wyman, and entered the hall on
pretext of writing a message on a card. The instant,
however, that old Thompson turned his back a handkerchief
was clapped over his face and held there tightly until in a
few moments he lapsed into unconsciousness.

The description of one man tallied with that of Selby; but

the other, who had thin, sandy whiskers, was unknown to
me.

As soon, however, as Thompson felt a trifle better, and

began to inspect the disorder caused by the intruders, I ran
downstairs and telephoned to Fred at the Euston Hotel. The
Major was not in; but Bailey, the hall porter, who answered
me, promised to give my message to Major Fenwicke or to
Captain Waldron, whichever of the two should be first to
return.

Therefore I could do nothing but wait. Walter arrived in

about half an hour, and was followed five minutes later by
Fred and Sammy, all three standing dumbfounded when I
explained what had occurred.

The secret venom of the Borgias and the ring were now in
the possession of our enemies, and neither of us knew in
what way it might be used against us. They had also
secured the secret of the Crowland treasure, for they would
undoubtedly find the piece of parchment behind the loose
top of the case. It had fallen out in my hand, and would do
so in theirs.

Selby’s action was certainly a bold bid for fortune, and

showed conclusively that he was aware of our success in
Scotland, the theft being committed no doubt in the belief
that the jewels discovered were in my friend’s rooms. My
intuition to place them in the bank only a few hours before
was certainly a fortunate one.

The woman Bardi was still acting in concert with the

conspirators, and the fact that Walter had been called to an
appointment at Richmond by a telegram signed by a friend
showed how ingeniously and swiftly it had all been worked.

“Well,” exclaimed Fred, gazing around the disordered

sitting-room, “our policy seems quite clear. First, we should
go down to Crowland and prevent any investigations being
made there; secondly, we will arrest Selby for assault and
theft the next time we meet him; and, thirdly, we must at
all hazards regain possession of the ring and poison, for we
can’t tell what atrocious assassinations these people will not
commit now they have a poison so subtle, so deadly, and so
impossible of detection.”

“Yes,” I cried. “Think of what possession of such a secret

compound means! They might contrive to use it upon us at
any moment by sending us an envenomed letter, by placing
it on the knob of an umbrella or walking stick, by
impregnating our gloves, our hats, or any object left about,
just as the Borgias used it in the old days.”

“It certainly isn’t a very bright prospect,” remarked

Waldron. “I’d rather face a revolver than a secret poison.
I’ve seen too much of poisoning in India. We in the police
know something about it.”

Old Thompson was thoroughly unnerved by the drug;

therefore, it being decided that we should all four go down
to Crowland by the last train, Walter gave him leave to shut
up the flat and go over to see his married daughter at
Hackney Wick.

A telegram to Frank, the ostler at “The Angel,” at

Peterborough, brought the carriage to meet us at the
station by the ten-thirty train from London, and by midnight
we were comfortably installed at “The George,” at Crowland,
the inn which to Walter and myself was already full of
memories.

We had telegraphed to the rector, and he called upon us,

notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. Sitting together in
the private room, I briefly related to him our success in
Scotland, and how we had discovered the actual plan of the
spot where the treasure lay concealed.