“I will see what I can do,” said Dritzhn, and he rose to go. As he entered the shop, he found Gutenberg, Hielman, and Riffe busy setting new type for another work. It was a dictionary, called a “Catholicon.” They were all eager in their toil, and spoke warmly of the ready sale it would find, and the money it would bring in. Dritzhn, a little encouraged, resumed his work with them, nor did he breathe a word of his plan of leaving. It was too great a step to take hastily, although he wished himself safely out of the partnership. There was so much repairing of type to do, and so many unlooked-for hinderances, that the book was delayed, and 1439 came round before it was finished, although Gutenberg was meanwhile steadily improving his art. At this point of time, the autumn of 1439, just when they were about realizing their hopes in issuing the “Catholicon,” an event occurred which threw everything into confusion. This was the sudden death of Andreas Dritzhn. If ever the adversary hindered an enterprise, it was the art of printing; he had doubtless reasons of his own for multiplying obstacles. Accordingly the death of Andreas was the pretext; and directly George and Nicholas, brothers of the deceased, two sturdy jogging Germans, who never harmed a fly, on arriving home from Andreas’s funeral, demanded of Gutenberg, Hielman, and Riffe to be admitted to the partnership! “Very good,” said Gutenberg; “if we can find it in the contract, it shall be done.” Then, producing the document, he read:-- “ART. 2. If any one of the partners shall die during the copartnership, the survivors shall pay to his heirs the sum of one hundred florins, in consideration of which the effects shall become the property of the surviving partners.” “Nay, gentlemen, you cannot become partners, but we will pay you what is due as the heirs of Andreas Dritzhn.” Then, looking over the accounts of the firm, he added, “Your brother is indebted to us in the sum of eighty-five florins; we will pay you the remaining fifteen, which will balance accounts.” George and Nicholas rejected the offer with disdain, and, hastening away, conferred with each other as to what they should do. Two strong principles were at work in their hearts,--avarice and curiosity. From some few hints which Andreas had dropped while living, George and Nicholas were as much excited about the hidden arts of Gutenberg as we covetous moderns are with a chance at a rich vein in a gold mine; and they determined to try a suit at law, and if possible become members of the secret league.