"Write down the directions yourself, father; you know them better than I." Since she saw no escape, she was determined to keep up the tragic farce no longer.
"I am not your father."
"So I see," she replied, still with the amazing calm.
Braine, in the other room, shook his head savagely. Father and daughter; the same steel in the nerves. Could they bend her? Would they break her? He did not wish to injure her bodily, but a million was always a million, and there was revenge which was worth more to him than the money itself. He listened, motioning to the others to be silent.
"Write the directions," commanded the scoundrel, who discarded the broken-man style.
"I know of no hidden money."
"Then your father dies this night." Grange put a whistle to his lips. "Sign, write!"
"I refuse!"
"Once more. The moment I blow this whistle the men in the other room will understand that your father is to die. Be wise. Money is nothing—life is everything."
"I refuse!" Even as she had known this vile creature to be an impostor so she knew that he lied, that her father was still free.