The House That Jack Built by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

A choked sound escaped pale lips. “No . . .”

He frowned. “No? Of course you shall marry me, dear girl. I cannot have you living under my roof, unmarried. People will talk and talk is one thing I cannot afford.”

She was struggling to speak. “My husband . . . children . . .”

Astonishment swept through him. “Married? You are married?” Then he began to laugh. “Widowed, you mean. I shot your dear husband dead in the street. Put a bullet into his head.”

She strained away from him, dark eyes wide with revulsion. “No! Not Jenna . . . Marcus.”

Lachley frowned again. “The man I shot was not your husband?”

The girl lay trembling, tears sliding down her face. She had given him only one name to call her by, despite the drugs he’d fed her, refusing against all efforts he’d made thus far to reveal her full name.

“What is your husband’s surname, girl?”

She shook her head. “What . . . what is a surname?”

“A last name!” he snapped, growing impatient. “Dammit, I know they use surnames even in Greece!”

“Not Greek . . .” she whispered. “Poor Marcus, sold in Rome . . . He’ll be frantic . . .”

She was babbling again, raving out of her head. He gripped her wrists, shook her. “Tell me your last name, girl!”

“Cassondra!” she shrieked the word at him, fighting his hold on her. “I am Ianira, Cassondra of Ephesus!”

“Talk sense! There is no city of Ephesus, just a ruin buried only the ancients know where! How did you come to London?”

“Through the gate . . .”

They were back to that again. The sodding gate, whatever the deuce that was. She babbled about it every time he questioned her. Lachley changed his line of attack. “Tell me about the letters. Eddy’s letters.”