"Out of the way?" the printer interrupted. "What do you mean by that?" "I mean, get him out of the city; but where, I cannot say for the moment. We'll think about it, Master Byrckmann. We'll pray over it, and God will show us which way the path lies," the man said quietly. He was going to say more, but a customer came in noisily, and the foreman stood back, and waited until the man was served and went away. As if she came out of the house casually, Margaret crossed the shop, and, going to the door, called to the customer, who was their butcher, and gave him an order for the next morning. Her face was aflame with having played that mean part of listener, but so much was at stake. It was a matter of life or death. And Herman was involved; for if Cochlaeus or the Burgomaster found him harbouring that arch-heretic there was no other end but death. In her confusion she gave Targon an order which made the butcher stare at her in surprise. "Haven't you made a mistake, Mistress Margaret?" the man asked, wondering at her paleness; for now her face had changed. "What did I say?" she asked, and when he repeated the order her face crimsoned. "It must be this thunder in the air," she answered, by way of exculpation, and with an effort she told Targon what she really required. She wanted to get away, to see Herman and tell him all she knew. If she could talk the matter over with him he might suggest something, and she could tell her father of the plan. But she was hindered. Her father went back to the workshop with Gropper, and left her to look after the customers, who came in one after another, some for the merest trifles, and some on matters of importance. Two or three stopped to talk of what was being said in the city. First and foremost Cochlaeus was there, and that suggested heresy. Then a special body of the Guard had been out most of the day, halting at every printer's shop to leave a letter which, of course, was from the Burgomaster. But what was of more importance still was this--that it was declared that William Tyndale was somewhere in the city, and that to-morrow a great reward was to be offered as the price upon his head, and a price, also, on the head of any who harboured him. Margaret thought she would choke when they talked on in that strain, little knowing what she knew, and what it meant to her beloved if the reward were to be claimed. Her Herman! the man who was all the world to her! Once again, while the customers were standing at the counter, talking on in that strain, she did not see them, for she was gazing afresh at that picture in the fire, and she shuddered because it seemed so real that her father and Herman alike were being broken on the wheel. One by one the customers dropped off, and then none came at all, and the shop was empty when her father came in with a sealed letter in his hand, which trembled as he held it out to her.