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 Page i

ENGINEERING
COMPUTATIONS
An Introduction Using
MATLAB® and Excel®

Joseph C. Musto
Milwaukee School of Engineering

William E. Howard
East Carolina University

Richard R. Williams
Auburn University
 Page ii

ENGINEERING COMPUTATION
Published by McGraw-Hill Education, 2 Penn Plaza, New York, NY
10121. Copyright ©2021 by McGraw-Hill Education. All rights
reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this
publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any
means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior
written consent of McGraw-Hill Education, including, but not limited
to, in any network or other electronic storage or transmission, or
broadcast for distance learning.
Some ancillaries, including electronic and print components, may not
be available to customers outside the United States.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 QVS 24 23 22 21 20
ISBN 978-1-260-57071-7
MHID 1-260-57071-1
Cover Image: ©Ingram Publishing
All credits appearing on page or at the end of the book are
considered to be an extension of the copyright page.
The Internet addresses listed in the text were accurate at the time of
publication. The inclusion of a website does not indicate an
endorsement by the authors or McGraw-Hill Education, and McGraw-
Hill Education does not guarantee the accuracy of the information
presented at these sites.
mheducation.com/highered
 Page iii

CONTENTS

Preface v

PART 1
Computational Tools 1

CHAPTER 1
Computing Tools 3
Introduction 3
1.1 Analytic and Algorithmic Solutions 4
1.2 Approaches to Engineering Computation 11
1.3 Data Representation 13

CHAPTER 2
Excel Fundamentals 21
Introduction 21
2.1 The Excel Interface 21
2.2 Tutorial: Entering and Formatting Data With Excel 24
2.3 Tutorial: Entering and Formatting Formulas With Excel 29
2.4 Tutorial: Using Built-in Functions 37
2.5 Tutorial: Performing Logical Tests Using the IF Statement
42
2.6 Tutorial: Using Lookup Tables 49
2.7 Tutorial: Interpolating With Excel 53

CHAPTER 3
MATLAB Fundamentals 63
Introduction 63
3.1 The MATLAB Interface 63
3.2 Tutorial: Using the Command Window for Interactive
Computation 65
3.3 Tutorial: Using MATLAB Script Files 74
3.4 Tutorial: Using MATLAB Function Files 81
3.5 Tutorial: Computing With One-Dimensional Arrays 85
3.6 Tutorial: Computing With Two-Dimensional Arrays 92
3.7 Tutorial: Saving a MATLAB Session 96

CHAPTER 4
MATLAB Programming 103
Introduction 103
4.1 Flowcharts 103
4.2 Tutorial: Loop Commands 106
4.3 Tutorial: Logical Branching Statements 115
4.4 Tutorial: Combining Loops and Logic 125
4.5 Tutorial: Formatting MATLAB Output 134

CHAPTER 5
Plotting Data 143
Introduction 143
5.1 Types of Graphs 143
5.2 XY Graphs 147
5.3 Guidelines for Producing Good Graphs 178
5.4 Tutorial: Creating Other Types of Graphs With Excel 180
Page iv

PART 2
Engineering Applications 193

CHAPTER 6
Finding the Roots of Equations 195
Introduction 195
6.1 Motivation 196
6.2 Roots of Equations: Theory 197
6.3 Tutorial: Solution of General Nonlinear Equations Using
MATLAB 207
6.4 Tutorial: Solution of Polynomial Equations Using MATLAB
210
6.5 Tutorial: Solution of General Nonlinear Equations Using
Excel 213

CHAPTER 7
Matrix Mathematics 219
Introduction 219
7.1 Properties of Matrices 219
7.2 Tutorial: Matrix Operations Using Excel 223
7.3 Tutorial: Matrix Operations Using MATLAB 228

CHAPTER 8
Solving Simultaneous Equations 237
Introduction 237
8.1 Systems of Linear Equations 237
8.2 Tutorial: Solutions of Linear Equations Using Excel 238
8.3 Tutorial: Solutions to Simultaneous Linear Equations Using
MATLAB 244
8.4 Tutorial: Solving Nonlinear Simultaneous Equations Using
Excel 248
8.5 Tutorial: Solving Nonlinear Simultaneous Equations Using
MATLAB 250

CHAPTER 9
Numerical Integration 263
Introduction 263
9.1 Concepts From Calculus 263
9.2 Tutorial: Numerical Integration of Functions 267
9.3 Tutorial: Numerical Integration of Measured Data 279

CHAPTER 10
Optimization 289
Introduction 289
10.1 Engineering Optimization 290
10.2 Formulating an Optimization Problem 292
10.3 Solution of an Optimization Problem 294
10.4 Solution of an Optimization Problem Using MATLAB 302
10.5 Solution of an Optimization Problem Using Excel 309
10.6 Tutorial: Engineering Application of Linear Constrained
Optimization 317
INDEX 327
 Page v

PREFACE

This text has grown out of the authors’ experiences teaching

introductory computation courses to engineering students from a
variety of disciplines at three different institutions. The integration of
computational tools in engineering programs is a constant challenge
for educators. The broad goals associated with an introductory
course in computer applications often include:

▪ Teaching the concept of “procedural thinking” and algorithm

development.

▪ Teaching the mechanics of the computational tools required in

both the subsequent academic program and professional
practice.

▪ Teaching the techniques for developing a computational solution

to a physical problem.

▪ Providing the context for the selection of a computational tool

appropriate for the task at hand.

▪ Teaching the accepted techniques for documenting and verifying

computer-based solutions to engineering problems.

▪ Stimulating interest in upper-division coursework by introducing

the students to realistic, interesting, and exciting problems and
applications.
This text will emphasize these concepts, using MATLAB® and Excel®
as the software packages of choice. These packages were chosen
because:

▪ MATLAB is widely accepted as a first computation tool in

numerous engineering programs.

▪ MATLAB has the unique ability to be both used as an

introductory programming tool and a high-level computational
tool; the programming constructs (loops and logic) allow it to be
used as a first programming language for engineering students,
while the numerous mathematical and analysis “toolboxes” allow
it to be readily applied to high-level engineering applications.

▪ Excel is a ubiquitous spreadsheet application, which nearly every

engineering student will have access to during their academic
and professional careers. Excel has powerful built-in functions
that allow it to be applied to high-level engineering problems.

▪ Since spreadsheet solutions are so fundamentally different than

the procedural solutions developed using programming tools like
MATLAB, the contrasting approach allows for demonstration and
discussion about implication of the choice of software tool on the
type and complexity of the solution technique.

Philosophy of the Text

The underlying philosophy behind the approach taken in this text is:

▪ Computer tools will change during the professional careers of a

freshman engineering student. While it is important to teach the
mechanics of using the relevant tools, the focus of this text
should be on the fundamentals of engineering computing:
 algorithm development, selection of appropriate tools,
documentation of solutions, and verification and interpretation of
results.

▪ Programming is a fundamental concept for engineers; while

“shortcut” solutions (such as implied loops in MATLAB) and
“canned” software are certainly appropriate for upper-division
students and practicing engineers, introductory students should
be focused on the basics of structured programming: loops,
logic, and array structures. These basic concepts, which are
language-independent, are the critical building blocks for
programming, and should be introduced early.

With this in mind, the text was developed in two parts. The Page vi
first part generally covers the mechanics of programming
and spreadsheet usage; including:

▪ An introduction to computational theory,

▪ An introduction to number representation (scalars, arrays, and

matrices),

▪ An introduction to programming constructs, including algorithm

development and flowcharting,

▪ The mechanics of MATLAB and Excel usage, and

▪ Best practices in computer tool usage, including tool selection,

documentation of solutions, and checking of results.

These chapters include detailed “keystroke-level” instructions, which

will guide the reader through the use of the MATLAB and Excel tools.
The second part focuses on typical applications of engineering
computation; these applications are motivated with engineering
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
things that have happened. I thought perhaps you could talk to Rex
and make him tell you what’s on his mind.”
Again she looked beseechingly at Markham, and there was the
anxiety of a vague fear in her eyes.
“Oh, I do wish you’d ask him—and try to find out,” she went on, in
a pleading tone. “I’d feel—safer if—if . . .”
Markham nodded and patted her hand.
“We’ll try to make him talk.”
“But don’t try at the house,” she said quickly. “There are people—
things—around; and Rex would be too frightened. Ask him to come
here, Mr. Markham. Get him away from that awful place, where he
can talk without being afraid that some one’s listening. Rex is home
now. Ask him to come here. Tell him I’m here, too. Maybe I can help
you reason with him. . . . Oh, do this for me, Mr. Markham!”
Markham glanced at the clock and ran his eye over his
appointment-pad. He was, I knew, as anxious as Ada to have Rex on
the carpet for a questioning; and, after a momentary hesitation, he
picked up the telephone-receiver and had Swacker put him through
to the Greene mansion. From what I heard of the conversation that
ensued, it was plain that he experienced considerable difficulty in
urging Rex to come to the office, for he had to resort to a veiled
threat of summary legal action before he finally succeeded.
“He evidently fears some trap,” commented Markham
thoughtfully, replacing the receiver. “But he has promised to get
dressed immediately and come.”
A look of relief passed over the girl’s face.
“There’s one other thing I ought to tell you,” she said hurriedly;
“though it may not mean anything. The other night, in the rear of the
lower hall by the stairs, I picked up a piece of paper—like a leaf torn
from a note-book. And there was a drawing on it of all our bedrooms
up-stairs with four little crosses marked in ink—one at Julia’s room,
one at Chester’s, one at Rex’s, and one at mine. And down in the
corner were several of the queerest signs, or pictures. One was a
heart with three nails in it; and one looked like a parrot. Then there
was a picture of what seemed to be three little stones with a line
under them. . . .”
 Heath suddenly jerked himself forward, his cigar half-way to his
lips.
“A parrot, and three stones! . . . And say, Miss Greene, was there
an arrow with numbers on it?”
“Yes!” she answered eagerly. “That was there, too.”
Heath put his cigar in his mouth and chewed on it with vicious
satisfaction.
“That means something, Mr. Markham,” he proclaimed, trying to
keep the agitation out of his voice. “Those are all symbols—graphic
signs, they’re called—of Continental crooks, German or Austrian
mostly.”
“The stones, I happen to know,” put in Vance, “represent the idea
of the martyrdom of Saint Stephen, who was stoned to death.
They’re the emblem of Saint Stephen, according to the calendar of
the Styrian peasantry.”
“I don’t know anything about that, sir,” answered Heath. “But I
know that European crooks use those signs.”
“Oh, doubtless. I ran across a number of ’em when I was looking
up the emblematic language of the gypsies. A fascinatin’ study.”
Vance seemed uninterested in Ada’s discovery.
“Have you this paper with you, Miss Greene?” asked Markham.
The girl was embarrassed and shook her head.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t think it was important.
Should I have brought it?”
“Did you destroy it?” Heath put the question excitedly.
“Oh, I have it safely. I put it away. . . .”
“We gotta have that paper, Mr. Markham.” The Sergeant had
risen and come toward the District Attorney’s desk. “It may be just
the lead we’re looking for.”
“If you really want it so badly,” said Ada, “I can phone Rex to
bring it with him. He’ll know where to find it if I explain.”
“Right! That’ll save me a trip.” Heath nodded to Markham. “Try to
catch him before he leaves, sir.”
Taking up the telephone, Markham again directed Swacker to get
Rex on the wire. After a brief delay the connection was made and he
handed the instrument to Ada.
 “Hello, Rex dear,” she said. “Don’t scold me, for there’s nothing to
worry about. . . . What I wanted of you is this:—in our private mail-
box you’ll find a sealed envelope of my personal blue stationery.
Please get it and bring it with you to Mr. Markham’s office. And don’t
let any one see you take it. . . . That’s all, Rex. Now, hurry, and we’ll
have lunch together down-town.”
“It will be at least half an hour before Mr. Greene can get here,”
said Markham, turning to Vance; “and as I’ve a waiting-room full of
people, why don’t you and Van Dine take the young lady to the Stock
Exchange and show her how the mad brokers disport themselves.—
How would you like that, Miss Greene?”
“I’d love it!” exclaimed the girl.
“Why not go along too, Sergeant?”
“Me!” Heath snorted. “I got excitement enough. I’ll run over and
talk to the Colonel19 for a while.”
Vance and Ada and I motored the few blocks to 18 Broad Street,
and, taking the elevator, passed through the reception-room (where
uniformed attendants peremptorily relieved us of our wraps), and
came out upon the visitors’ gallery overlooking the floor of the
Exchange. There was an unusually active market that day. The
pandemonium was almost deafening, and the feverish activity about
the trading-posts resembled the riots of an excited mob. I was too
familiar with the sight to be particularly impressed; and Vance, who
detested noise and disorder, looked on with an air of bored
annoyance. But Ada’s face lighted up at once. Her eyes sparkled
and the blood rushed to her cheeks. She gazed over the railing in a
thrall of fascination.
“And now you see, Miss Greene, how foolish men can be,” said
Vance.
“Oh, but it’s wonderful!” she answered. “They’re alive. They feel
things. They have something to fight for.”
“You think you’d like it?” smiled Vance.
“I’d adore it. I’ve always longed to do something exciting—
something . . . like that. . . .” She extended her hand toward the
milling crowds below.
It was easy to understand her reaction after her years of
monotonous service to an invalid in the dreary Greene mansion.
 At that moment I happened to look up, and, to my surprise, Heath
was standing in the doorway scanning the groups of visitors. He
appeared troubled and unusually grim, and there was a nervous
intentness in the way he moved his head. I raised my hand to attract
his attention, and he immediately came to where we stood.
“The Chief wants you at the office right away, Mr. Vance.” There
was an ominousness in his tone. “He sent me over to get you.”
Ada looked at him steadily, and a pallor of fear overspread her
face.
“Well, well!” Vance shrugged in mock resignation. “Just when we
were getting interested in the sights. But we must obey the Chief—
eh, what, Miss Greene?”
But, despite his attempt to make light of Markham’s unexpected
summons, Ada was strangely silent; and as we rode back to the
office she did not speak but sat tensely, her unseeing eyes staring
straight ahead.
It seemed an interminable time before we reached the Criminal
Courts Building. The traffic was congested; and there was even a
long delay at the elevator. Vance appeared to take the situation
calmly; but Heath’s lips were compressed, and he breathed heavily
through his nose, like a man laboring under tense excitement.
As we entered the District Attorney’s office Markham rose and
looked at the girl with a great tenderness.
“You must be brave, Miss Greene,” he said, in a quiet,
sympathetic voice. “Something tragic and unforeseen has happened.
And as you will have to be told of it sooner or later——”
“It’s Rex!” She sank limply into a chair facing Markham’s desk.
“Yes,” he said softly; “it’s Rex. Sproot called up a few minutes
after you had gone. . . .”
“And he’s been shot—like Julia and Chester!” Her words were
scarcely audible, but they brought a sense of horror into the dingy
old office.
Markham inclined his head.
“Not five minutes after you telephoned to him some one entered
his room and shot him.”
A dry sob shook the girl, and she buried her face in her arms.
 Markham stepped round the desk and placed his hand gently on
her shoulder.
“We’ve got to face it, my child,” he said. “We’re going to the
house at once to see what can be done and you’d better come in the
car with us.”
“Oh, I don’t want to go back,” she moaned. “I’m afraid—I’m
afraid! . . .”
 CHAPTER XIV.
Footprints on the Carpet
(Tuesday, November 30; noon)

Markham had considerable difficulty in persuading Ada to

accompany us. The girl seemed almost in a panic of fright.
Moreover, she held herself indirectly responsible for Rex’s death. But
at last she permitted us to lead her down to the car.
Heath had already telephoned to the Homicide Bureau, and his
arrangements for the investigation were complete when we started
up Centre Street. At Police Headquarters Snitkin and another Central
Office man named Burke were waiting for us, and crowded into the
tonneau of Markham’s car. We made excellent time to the Greene
mansion, arriving there in less than twenty minutes.
A plain-clothes man lounged against the iron railing at the end of
the street a few yards beyond the gate of the Greene grounds, and
at a sign from Heath came forward at once.
“What about it, Santos?” the Sergeant demanded gruffly. “Who’s
been in and out of here this morning?”
“What’s the big idea?” the man retorted indignantly. “That old
bimbo of a butler came out about nine and returned in less than half
an hour with a package. Said he’d been to Third Avenue to get some
dog-biscuits. The family sawbones drove up at quarter past ten—
that’s his car across the street.” He pointed to Von Blon’s Daimler,
which was parked diagonally opposite. “He’s still inside.—Then,
about ten minutes after the doc arrived, this young lady”—he
indicated Ada—“came out and walked toward Avenue A, where she
hopped a taxi. And that’s every man, woman, or child that’s passed
in or out of these gates since I relieved Cameron at eight o’clock this
morning.”
 “And Cameron’s report?”
“Nobody all night.”
“Well, some one got in some way,” growled Heath. “Run along
the west wall there and tell Donnelly to come here pronto.”
Santos disappeared through the gate, and a moment later we
could see him hurrying through the side yard toward the garage. In a
few minutes Donnelly—the man set to watch the postern gate—
came hurrying up.
“Who got in the back way this morning?” barked Heath.
“Nobody, Sergeant. The cook went marketing about ten o’clock,
and two regular deliverymen left packages. That’s every one who’s
been through the rear gate since yesterday.”
“Is that so!” Heath was viciously sarcastic.
“I’m telling you——”
“Oh, all right, all right.” The Sergeant turned to Burke. “You get up
on this wall and make the rounds. See if you can find where any one
has climbed over.—And you, Snitkin, look over the yard for
footprints. When you guys finish, report to me. I’m going inside.”
We went up the front walk, which had been swept clean, and
Sproot admitted us to the house. His face was as blank as ever, and
he took our coats with his usual obsequious formality.
“You’d better go to your room now, Miss Greene,” said Markham,
placing his hand kindly on Ada’s arm. “Lie down, and try to get a little
rest. You look tired. I’ll be in to see you before I go.”
The girl obeyed submissively without a word.
“And you, Sproot,” he ordered; “come in the living-room.”
The old butler followed us and stood humbly before the centre-
table, where Markham seated himself.
“Now, let’s hear your story.”
Sproot cleared his throat and stared out of the window.
“There’s very little to tell, sir. I was in the butler’s pantry, polishing
the glassware, when I heard the shot——”
“Go back a little further,” interrupted Markham. “I understand you
made a trip to Third Avenue at nine this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Miss Sibella bought a Pomeranian yesterday, and she
asked me to get some dog-biscuits after breakfast.”
“Who called at the house this morning?”
 “No one, sir—that is, no one but Doctor Von Blon.”
“All right. Now tell us everything that happened.”
“Nothing happened, sir—nothing unusual, that is—until poor Mr.
Rex was shot. Miss Ada went out a few minutes after Doctor Von
Blon arrived; and a little past eleven o’clock you telephoned to Mr.
Rex. Then shortly afterward you telephoned a second time to Mr.
Rex; and I returned to the pantry. I had only been there a few
minutes when I heard the shot——”
“What time would you say that was?”
“About twenty minutes after eleven, sir.”
“Then what?”
“I dried my hands on my apron and stepped into the dining-room
to listen. I was not quite sure that the shot had been fired inside the
house, but I thought I’d better investigate. So I went up-stairs and, as
Mr. Rex’s door was open, I looked in his room first. There I saw the
poor young man lying on the floor with the blood running from a
small wound in his forehead. I called Doctor Von Blon——”
“Where was the doctor?” Vance put the question.
Sproot hesitated, and appeared to think.
“He was up-stairs, sir; and he came at once——”
“Oh—up-stairs! Roaming about vaguely, I presume—a little here,
a little there, what?” Vance’s eyes bored into the butler. “Come,
come, Sproot. Where was the doctor?”
“I think, sir, he was in Miss Sibella’s room.”
“Cogito, cogito. . . . Well, drum your encephalon a bit and try to
reach a conclusion. From what sector of space did the corporeal
body of Doctor Von Blon emerge after you had called him?”
“The fact is, sir, he came out of Miss Sibella’s door.”
“Well, well. Fancy that! And, such being the case, one might
conclude—without too great a curfuffling of one’s brains—that,
preceding his issuing from that particular door, he was actually in
Miss Sibella’s room?”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“Dash it all, Sproot! You know deuced well he was there.”
“Well—yes, sir.”
“And now suppose you continue with your odyssey.”
 “It was more like the Iliad, if I may say so. More tragic-like, if you
understand what I mean; although Mr. Rex was not exactly a Hector.
However that may be, sir, Doctor Von Blon came immediately——”
“He had not heard the shot, then?”
“Apparently not, for he seemed very much startled when he saw
Mr. Rex. And Miss Sibella, who followed him into Mr. Rex’s room,
was startled, too.”
“Did they make any comment?”
“As to that I couldn’t say. I came down-stairs at once and
telephoned to Mr. Markham.”
As he spoke Ada appeared at the archway, her eyes wide.
“Some one’s been in my room,” she announced, in a frightened
voice. “The French doors to the balcony were partly open when I
went up-stairs just now, and there were dirty snow-tracks across the
floor. . . . Oh, what does it mean? Do you think——?”
Markham had jerked himself forward.
“You left the French doors shut when you went out?”
“Yes—of course,” she answered. “I rarely open them in winter.”
“And were they locked?”
“I’m not sure, but I think so. They must have been locked—
though how could any one have got in unless I’d forgotten to turn the
key?”
Heath had risen and stood listening to the girl’s story with grim
bewilderment.
“Probably the bird with those galoshes again,” he mumbled. “I’ll
get Jerym himself up here this time.”
Markham nodded and turned back to Ada.
“Thank you for telling us, Miss Greene. Suppose you go to some
other room and wait for us. We want your room left just as you found
it until we’ve had time to examine it.”
“I’ll go to the kitchen and stay with cook. I—I don’t want to be
alone.” And with a catch of her breath she left us.
“Where’s Doctor Von Blon now?” Markham asked Sproot.
“With Mrs. Greene, sir.”
“Tell him we’re here and would like to see him at once.”
The butler bowed and went out.
Vance was pacing up and down, his eyes almost closed.
 “It grows madder every minute,” he said. “It was insane enough
without those foot-tracks and that open door. There’s something
devilish going on here, Markham. There’s demonology and witchcraft
afoot, or something strangely close to it. I say, is there anything in
the Pandects or the Justinian Code relating to the proper legal
procedure against diabolic possession or spiritism?”
Before Markham could rebuke him Von Blon entered. His usual
suavity had disappeared. He bowed jerkily without speaking, and
smoothed his moustache nervously with an unsteady hand.
“Sproot tells me, doctor,” said Markham, “that you did not hear
the shot fired in Rex’s room.”
“No!” The fact seemed both to puzzle and disturb him. “I can’t
make it out either, for Rex’s door into the hall was open.”
“You were in Miss Sibella’s room, were you not?” Vance had
halted, and stood studying the doctor.
Von Blon lifted his eyebrows.
“I was. Sibella had been complaining about——”
“A sore throat or something of the kind, no doubt,” finished
Vance. “But that’s immaterial. The fact is that neither you nor Miss
Sibella heard the shot. Is that correct?”
The doctor inclined his head. “I knew nothing of it till Sproot
knocked on the door and beckoned me across the hall.”
“And Miss Sibella accompanied you into Rex’s room?”
“She came in just behind me, I believe. But I told her not to touch
anything, and sent her immediately back to her room. When I came
out into the hall again I heard Sproot phoning the District Attorney’s
office, and thought I’d better wait till the police arrived. After talking
over the situation with Sibella I informed Mrs. Greene of the tragedy,
and remained with her until Sproot told me of your arrival.”
“You saw no one else up-stairs, or heard no suspicious noise?”
“No one—nothing. The house, in fact, was unusually quiet.”
“Do you recall if Miss Ada’s door was open?”
The doctor pondered a moment. “I don’t recall—which means it
was probably closed. Otherwise I would have noticed it.”
“And how is Mrs. Greene this morning?” Vance’s question, put
negligently, sounded curiously irrelevant.
Von Blon gave a start.
 “She seemed somewhat more comfortable when I first saw her,
but the news of Rex’s death disturbed her considerably. When I left
her just now she was complaining about the shooting pains in her
spine.”
Markham had got up and now moved restlessly toward the
archway.
“The Medical Examiner will be here any minute,” he said; “and I
want to look over Rex’s room before he arrives. You might come with
us, doctor.—And you, Sproot, had better remain at the front door.”
We went up-stairs quietly: I think it was in all our minds that we
should not advertise our presence to Mrs. Greene. Rex’s room, like
all those in the Greene mansion, was spacious. It had a large
window at the front and another at the side. There were no draperies
to shut out the light, and the slanting midday sun of winter poured in.
The walls, as Chester had once told us, were lined with books; and
pamphlets and papers were piled in every available nook. The
chamber resembled a student’s workshop more than a bedroom.
In front of the Tudor fireplace in the centre of the left wall—a
duplication of the fireplace in Ada’s room—sprawled the body of Rex
Greene. His left arm was extended, but his right arm was crooked,
and the fingers were tightened, as if holding some object. His
domelike head was turned a little to one side; and a thin stream of
blood ran down his temple to the floor from a tiny aperture over the
right eye.
 Rex’s bedroom.

Heath studied the body for several minutes.

“He was shot standing still, Mr. Markham. He collapsed in a heap
and then straightened out a little after he’d hit the floor.”
Vance was bending over the dead man with a puzzled
expression.
“Markham, there’s something curious and inconsistent here,” he
said. “It was broad daylight when this thing happened, and the lad
was shot from the front—there are even powder marks on the face.
But his expression is perfectly natural. No sign of fear or
astonishment—rather peaceful and unconcerned, in fact. . . . It’s
incredible. The murderer and the pistol certainly weren’t invisible.”
Heath nodded slowly.
“I noticed that too, sir. It’s damn peculiar.” He bent more closely
over the body. “That wound looks to me like a thirty-two,” he
commented, turning to the doctor for confirmation.
 “Yes,” said Von Blon. “It appears to have been made with the
same weapon that was used against the others.”
“It was the same weapon,” Vance pronounced sombrely, taking
out his cigarette-case with thoughtful deliberation. “And it was the
same killer who used it.” He smoked a moment, his troubled gaze
resting on Rex’s face. “But why was it done at just this time—in the
daylight, with the door open, and when there were people close at
hand? Why didn’t the murderer wait until night? Why did he run such
a needless risk?”
“Don’t forget,” Markham reminded him, “that Rex was on the
point of coming to my office to tell me something.”
“But who knew he was about to indulge in revelations? He was
shot within ten minutes of your call——” He broke off and turned
quickly to the doctor. “What telephone extensions are there in the
house?”
“There are three, I believe.” Von Blon spoke easily. “There’s one
in Mrs. Greene’s room, one in Sibella’s room, and, I think, one in the
kitchen. The main phone is, of course, in the lower front hall.”
“A regular central office,” growled Heath. “Almost anybody coulda
listened in.” Suddenly he fell on his knees beside the body and
unflexed the fingers of the right hand.
“I’m afraid you won’t find that cryptic drawing, Sergeant,”
murmured Vance. “If the murderer shot Rex in order to seal his
mouth the paper will surely be gone. Any one overhearing the phone
calls, d’ ye see, would have learned of the envelope he was to fetch
along.”
“I guess you’re right, sir. But I’m going to have a look.”
He felt under the body and then systematically went through the
dead man’s pockets. But he found nothing even resembling the blue
envelope mentioned by Ada. At last he rose to his feet.
“It’s gone, all right.”
Then another idea occurred to him. Going hurriedly into the hall,
he called down the stairs to Sproot. When the butler appeared Heath
swung on him savagely.
“Where’s the private mail-box?”
“I don’t know that I exactly understand you.” Sproot’s answer was
placid and unruffled. “There is a mail-box just outside the front door.
Do you refer to that, sir?”
“No! You know damn well I don’t. I want to know where the
private—get me?—private mail-box is, in the house.”
“Perhaps you are referring to the little silver pyx for outgoing mail
on the table in the lower hall.”
“ ‘Pyx,’ is it!” The Sergeant’s sarcasm was stupendous. “Well, go
down and bring me everything that’s in this here pyx.—No! Wait a
minute—I’ll keep you company. . . . Pyx!” He took Sproot by the arm
and fairly dragged him from the room.
A few moments later he returned, crestfallen.
“Empty!” was his laconic announcement.
“But don’t give up hope entirely just because your cabalistic
diagram has disappeared,” Vance exhorted him. “I doubt if it would
have helped you much. This case isn’t a rebus. It’s a complex
mathematical formula, filled with moduli, infinitesimals, quantics,
faciends, derivatives, and coefficients. Rex himself might have
solved it if he hadn’t been shoved off the earth so soon.” His eyes
wandered over the room. “And I’m not at all sure he hadn’t solved it.”
Markham was growing impatient.
“We’d better go down to the drawing-room and wait for Doctor
Doremus and the men from Headquarters,” he suggested. “We can’t
learn anything here.”
We went out into the hall, and as we passed Ada’s door Heath
threw it open and stood on the threshold surveying the room. The
French doors leading to the balcony were slightly ajar, and the wind
from the west was flapping their green chintz curtains. On the light
beige rug were several damp discolored tracks leading round the
foot of the bed to the hall-door where we stood. Heath studied the
marks for a moment, and then drew the door shut again.
“They’re footprints, all right,” he remarked. “Some one tracked in
the dirty snow from the balcony and forgot to shut the glass doors.”
We were scarcely seated in the drawing-room when there came
a knocking on the front door; and Sproot admitted Snitkin and Burke.
“You first, Burke,” ordered the Sergeant, as the two officers
appeared. “Any signs of an entry over the wall?”
“Not a one.” The man’s overcoat and trousers were smudged
from top to bottom. “I crawled all round the top of the wall, and I’m
here to tell you that nobody left any traces anywheres. If any guy got
over that wall, he vaulted.”
“Fair enough.—And now you, Snitkin.”
“I got news for you.” The detective spoke with overt triumph.
“Somebody’s walked up those outside steps to the stone balcony on
the west side of the house. And he walked up ’em this morning after
the snowfall at nine o’clock, for the tracks are fresh. Furthermore,
they’re the same size as the ones we found last time on the front
walk.”
“Where do these new tracks come from?” Heath leaned forward
eagerly.
“That’s the hell of it, Sergeant. They come from the front walk
right below the steps to the front door; and there’s no tracing ’em
farther back because the front walk’s been swept clean.”
“I mighta known it,” grumbled Heath. “And the tracks are only
going one way?”
“That’s all. They leave the walk a few feet below the front door,
swing round the corner of the house, and go up the steps to the
balcony. The guy who made ’em didn’t come down that way.”
The Sergeant puffed disappointedly on his cigar.
“So he went up the balcony steps, entered the French doors,
crossed Ada’s room to the hall, did his dirty work, and then—
disappeared! A sweet case this is!” He clicked his tongue with
disgust.
“The man may have gone out by the front door,” suggested
Markham.
The Sergeant made a wry face and bellowed for Sproot, who
entered immediately.
“Say, which way did you go up-stairs when you heard the shot?”
“I went up the servants’ stairs, sir.”
“Then some one mighta gone down the front stairs at the same
time without your seeing him?”
“Yes, sir; it’s quite possible.”
“That’s all.”
Sproot bowed and again took up his post at the front door.
“Well, it looks like that’s what happened, sir,” Heath commented
to Markham. “Only how did he get in and out of the grounds without
being seen? That’s what I want to know.”
Vance was standing by the window gazing out upon the river.
“There’s something dashed unconvincing about those recurrent
spoors in the snow. Our eccentric culprit is altogether too careless
with his feet and too careful with his hands. He doesn’t leave a
finger-print or any other sign of his presence except those foot-tracks
—all nice and tidy and staring us in the face. But they don’t square
with the rest of this fantastic business.”
Heath stared hopelessly at the floor. He was patently of Vance’s
opinion; but the dogged thoroughness of his nature asserted itself,
and presently he looked up with a forced show of energy.
“Go and phone Captain Jerym, Snitkin, and tell him I wish he’d
hustle out here to look at some carpet-tracks. Then make
measurements of those footprints on the balcony steps.—And you,
Burke, take up a post in the upper hall, and don’t let any one go into
the two front west rooms.”
 CHAPTER XV.
The Murderer in the House
(Tuesday, November 30; 12.30 p. m.)

When Snitkin and Burke had gone Vance turned from the window
and strolled to where the doctor was sitting.
“I think it might be well,” he said quietly, “if the exact whereabouts
of every one in the house preceding and during the shooting was
determined.—We know, doctor, that you arrived here at about a
quarter past ten. How long were you with Mrs. Greene?”
Von Blon drew himself up and gave Vance a resentful stare. But
quickly his manner changed and he answered courteously:
“I sat with her for perhaps half an hour; then I went to Sibella’s
room—a little before eleven, I should say—and remained there until
Sproot called me.”
“And was Miss Sibella with you in the room all the time?”
“Yes—the entire time.”
“Thank you.”
Vance returned to the window, and Heath, who had been
watching the doctor belligerently, took his cigar from his mouth and
cocked his head at Markham.
“You know, sir, I was just thinking over the Inspector’s suggestion
about planting some one in the house to keep an eye on things. How
would it be if we got rid of this nurse that’s here now, and put in one
of our own women from Headquarters?”
Von Blon looked up with eager approval.
“An excellent plan!” he exclaimed.
“Very well, Sergeant,” agreed Markham. “You attend to it.”
“Your woman can begin to-night,” Von Blon told Heath. “I’ll meet
you here whenever you say, and give her instructions. There’s
nothing very technical for her to do.”
Heath made a notation in a battered note-book.
“I’ll meet you here, say, at six o’clock. How’s that?”
“That will suit me perfectly.” Von Blon rose. “And now, if I can be
of no more service . . .”
“That’s quite all right, doctor,” said Markham. “Go right ahead.”
But instead of immediately leaving the house Von Blon went up-
stairs, and we heard him knock on Sibella’s door. A few minutes later
he came down again and passed on to the front door without a
glance in our direction.
In the meantime Snitkin had come in and informed the Sergeant
that Captain Jerym was leaving Police Headquarters at once and
would arrive within half an hour. He had then gone outside to make
his measurements of the footprints on the balcony steps.
“And now,” suggested Markham, “I think we might see Mrs.
Greene. It’s possible she heard something. . . .”
Vance roused himself from apparent lethargy.
“By all means. But first let us get a few facts in hand. I long to
hear where the nurse was during the half-hour preceding Rex’s
demise. And I could bear to know if the old lady was alone
immediately following the firing of the revolver.—Why not have our
Miss Nightingale on the tapis before we brave the invalid’s
imprecations?”
Markham concurred, and Heath sent Sproot to summon her.
The nurse came in with an air of professional detachment; but
her roseate cheeks had paled perceptibly since we last saw her.
“Miss Craven”—Vance’s manner was easy and businesslike
—“will you please tell us exactly what you were doing between half
past ten and half past eleven this morning?”
“I was in my room on the third floor,” she answered. “I went there
when the doctor arrived a little after ten, and remained until he called
me to bring Mrs. Greene’s bouillon. Then I returned to my room and
stayed until the doctor again summoned me to sit with Mrs. Greene
while he was with you gentlemen.”
“When you were in your room, was the door open?”
“Oh, yes. I always leave it open in the daytime in case Mrs.
Greene calls.”
 “And her door was open, too, I take it.”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear the shot?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“That will be all, Miss Craven.” Vance accompanied her to the
hall. “You’d better return to your room now, for we’re going to pay a
visit to your patient.”
Mrs. Greene eyed us vindictively when we entered after having
knocked and been imperiously ordered to come in.
“More trouble,” she complained. “Am I never to have any peace
in my own house? The first day in weeks I’ve felt even moderately
comfortable—and then all this had to happen to upset me!”
“We regret, madam—more than you do apparently—that your
son is dead,” said Markham. “And we are sorry for the annoyance
the tragedy is causing you. But that does not relieve me from the
necessity of investigating the affair. As you were awake at the time
the shot was fired, it is essential that we seek what information you
may be able to give us.”
“What information can I give you—a helpless paralytic, lying here
alone?” A smouldering anger flickered in her eyes. “It strikes me that
you are the one to give me information.”
Markham ignored her barbed retort.
“The nurse tells me your door was open this morning. . . .”
“And why shouldn’t it have been? Am I expected to be entirely
excommunicated from the rest of the household?”
“Certainly not. I was merely trying to find out if, by any chance,
you were in a position to hear anything that went on in the hall.”
“Well, I heard nothing—if that’s all you want to know.”
Markham persisted patiently.
“You heard no one, for instance, cross Miss Ada’s room, or open
Miss Ada’s door?”
“I’ve already told you I heard nothing.” The old lady’s denial was
viciously emphatic.
“Nor any one walking in the hall, or descending the stairs?”
“No one but that incompetent doctor and the impossible Sproot.
Were we supposed to have had visitors this morning?”
“Some one shot your son,” Markham reminded her coolly.
 “It was probably his own fault,” she snapped. Then she seemed
to relent a bit. “Still, Rex was not as hard and thoughtless as the rest
of the children. But even he neglected me shamefully.” She
appeared to weigh the matter. “Yes,” she decided, “he received just
punishment for the way he treated me.”
Markham struggled with a hot resentment. At last he managed to
ask, with apparent calmness:
“Did you hear the shot with which your son was punished?”
“I did not.” Her tone was again irate. “I knew nothing of the
disturbance until the doctor saw fit to tell me.”
“And yet Mr. Rex’s door, as well as yours, was open,” said
Markham. “I can hardly understand your not having heard the shot.”
The old lady gave him a look of scathing irony.
“Am I to sympathize with your lack of understanding?”
“Lest you be tempted to, madam, I shall leave you.” Markham
bowed stiffly and turned on his heel.
As we reached the lower hall Doctor Doremus arrived.
“Your friends are still at it, I hear, Sergeant,” he greeted Heath,
with his usual breezy manner. Handing his coat and hat to Sproot, he
came forward and shook hands with all of us. “When you fellows
don’t spoil my breakfast you interfere with my lunch,” he repined.
“Where’s the body?”
Heath led him up-stairs, and after a few minutes returned to the
drawing-room. Taking out another cigar he bit the end of it savagely.
“Well, sir, I guess you’ll want to see this Miss Sibella next, won’t
you?”
“We might as well,” sighed Markham. “Then I’ll tackle the
servants and leave things to you. The reporters will be along pretty
soon.”
“Don’t I know it! And what they’re going to do to us in the papers’ll
be a-plenty!”
“And you can’t even tell them ‘it is confidently expected that an
arrest will be made in the immediate future,’ don’t y’ know,” grinned
Vance. “It’s most distressin’.”
Heath made an inarticulate noise of exasperation and, calling
Sproot, sent him for Sibella.
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