A Riddle in Bronze

seen a malevolent spirit being drawn from a living being, as I had with the professor. Roberta made no move to correct her, though, and I was reminded once more that her business was forced to operate under a veil of secrecy.
The maid led us out of the kitchens, and as we left the servants' areas and entered the main house I was struck by the furnishings and ornaments. Some of the pieces wouldn't have looked out of place in the fabulous collections of the South Kensington Museum, and I wondered at the wealth required to maintain such a household.
I began to visualise our host, who'd be a severe-looking dowager with elaborate clothes from a bygone era. She would look down her nose at us with gooseberry eyes, pale and slightly bulging. There would be no warmth in her manner, which would be haughty and disdainful, and as I pictured the formidable client awaiting us, I brushed again at my soot-streaked coat.
Our footsteps echoed off the parquet flooring, and we passed several rooms before the maid stopped before an ornate pair of doors. Here she paused to straighten her uniform, before giving us an appraising look. Roberta ignored her, but I adjusted my tie and tried in vain to brush traces of soot from my jacket. Having received a nod from the maid, I watched as she knocked twice before awaiting a reply.
"Come!" said a voice, muffled by the heavy woodwork.
Annie pushed the doors open, revealing a large, well-lit sitting room. There was only one occupant, a woman of my own age who was sitting in an armchair with an open book in her lap. I took her to be the daughter of Lady Snetton, given her age, but as soon as Roberta greeted the woman I realised my mistake.
"Lady Snetton," said Roberta, advancing into the room. "I trust we find you well?"
"As well as can be expected." The woman closed her book with a snap, placing it on a side table. Then she signalled to the maid to leave, and rose to greet us. I saw a hint of amusement as she looked me up and down. "I have heard great things about your father, Roberta, but I did not expect the professor to look this young. If he's invented a youth potion, my husband will be first in line for a dose."
I was still trying to reconcile this young woman with the dour matronly type I'd imagined to be waiting for us, and so it was left to Roberta to introduce me.
"This is Septimus Jones, my assistant," said Roberta quickly. "Father has been laid low by a fever, else he would have attended in person."
"He is not, perhaps, providing his services to a more valued client?"
"You have my word, but if you prefer, I can postpone our appointment until he is well enough to—"
"No! I must be free of this devilish spirit today."
Until this moment Lady Snetton's tone had been light and bantering, but now, for the first time, I saw a hint of the strain she was under. I also happened to notice the title of the book she had been reading, which was a treatise on the various types of ghosts and apparitions one might encounter. I'd heard of the publication, for it had raised a stir on first release. Now, after my own recent experiences, I realised it might not be as fanciful as everyone declared it to be, and I smiled grimly at the thought.
"You must take me for a fool," said Lady Snetton in a low voice, having noticed my expression. "But if you lived in this miserable house for a single day, you would see and hear things that would turn your hair white."
Roberta hurried forward, guiding the unhappy young woman towards the armchair. "Lady Snetton, please make yourself comfortable. Should I ring for your maid? Brandy, perhaps?"
"There are spirits enough in this household," said Lady Snetton, with a wintry smile, but she took her seat all the same. "Please sit with me, and I shall reveal the troubles with which I am plagued."
I was eager to set up the equipment in order to catch the wayward phantasm, but Roberta seemed to be in no hurry. As she sat down, I realised there was more to her profession than I'd first thought. Apparently, our services included listening to our clients unburdening themselves of their worries and discussing details of their private lives.
"My husband's first wife died two years ago," began Lady Snetton. "Theirs was not a happy marriage, but my dearest David — that's Admiral Lord Snetton — was at sea for months on end, and they got by during those brief intervals when they were forced to live under the same roof. Fortunately there were no children, and—"
I would sooner have faced ten glowing red phantasms than endured one intimate conversation of this sort with a stranger, and thus I was perched on the edge of my chair, feeling most uncomfortable. "Lady Snetton, would you prefer me to leave the room?"
"Why? Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, but—"
My face must have been flushed with embarrassment, because she laughed. "Oh, have no fear. I will not share anything you wouldn't read in the Gazette, should you have a mind to. Please, sit back and allow me to finish, for I must pour out this sorry tale."
I obeyed, striving to keep my soot-marked clothes off the pristine upholstery.
"I knew David through an acquaintance of my father's," continued Lady Snetton. "We grew close after the death of his wife, and were married before too long. Our lives were very happy for some eight months or so." Her face, which had been glowing as she recounted the tale, now fell. "Then the hauntings began," she continued, in a low voice. "David hasn't noticed a thing, bless him, but I am slowly being driven mad. I will wake in the middle of the night for no reason, and a cold chill will come over me, even though the