A Riddle in Bronze

I imagined it right behind me, ready to set upon me with those freezing claws, and I spun again and again to confront it… only to meet thin air. Shivers ran up my spine, and my heart pounded with terror. I wanted to flee the room, run down the stairs and leave this madhouse for the sanity of the busy afternoon street, and had Roberta not been standing directly in my way I would have done so.
But the sight of her standing firm, her expression determined, with the glowing tool at the ready, calmed my nerves. If the spirit did happen to fasten on me once more, it would not be the end. Indeed, it would probably give Roberta the opportunity to snare it. All of a sudden I realised what I had to do, and, swallowing my fear, I stepped into the middle of the room and raised my arms.
In effect, I had just presented myself as the bait in a trap.

Chapter 11
Roberta shouted a warning, but I ignored her and stood my ground. I could sense the spirit approaching from behind, but unlike before I did not turn to look for it, nor wave my arms to drive it away. I felt a steely calm, a determination to play my part whatever the cost. "Come, you foul being!" I shouted, my voice filling the bedroom. "Feast on my living flesh! Consume my very life force! Do with me what you must!"
A chill circled my legs and began climbing my spine, and I gritted my teeth as the cold threatened to overwhelm me. I pictured the clammy horror that was even now fastening itself to my back, and I battled the strong urge to run.
As I stood there, enveloped by the spirit, I heard Roberta spring towards me. There was an electric crackle, and I felt the hair on my head stand on end. Then, with a rush of relief, I felt the cold ripped from my back. I turned to see Roberta stepping over the ruins of the net, heading for the trap with the indistinct shape of the spirit coalescing around the tool gripped in her hands.
She was having trouble with the thing, for it jerked this way and that as it tried to get free, and I could see from her expression that it was a hard-fought battle. She made it though, and there was a tremendous gust of wind as the tool contacted the cylinder suspended in the trap. Curtains were torn from the windows, books and vases tumbled to the floor, and paintings rattled on the walls as though the subjects of the portraits were trying to break free of their canvas bonds.
Then, all was still.
I barely had time to relax, because Roberta strode up to me, her face working furiously. "You foolish, foolish man!" she cried, pushing me in the chest with both hands. "Do you have any idea of the danger you placed yourself in?"
"I—it seemed the only way," I mumbled, looking at the ground.
"Idiot!" She went to push me once more, but to my relief she lowered her hands instead, her anger having dissipated as quickly as it had arisen. "'Consume my very life force?'" she growled, giving me an arch look. "Which penny-dreadful did you plumb for that particular turn of phrase?"
"I was determined to attract the spirit," I said earnestly.
"And what gave you the idea an otherworldly phantasm might hear your impassioned pleas? Do you think they have ears, and eyes, and mouths to bite you with?"
"I confess, in the heat of the moment I did not stop to inspect the spirit's physical features." I hesitated, for I was unwilling to provoke her anger once more. "But it seemed the thing to do. And it worked," I pointed out.
"It was remarkably stupid." Then she lowered her voice. "But even so I—I must commend you, for your actions were brave indeed." Before I could say any more, Roberta turned from me, and together we surveyed the wreckage of the bedroom. Two pictures had fallen, the curtains were lying in a heap on the floor and the puddle of water from the broken jug had spread to an expensive-looking rug. Behind us, the copper netting was torn asunder, the metal tripods lying on their sides all twisted and bent. Only the trap looked intact, and I could see the metal cylinder within shaking and twisting as the captured spirit fought for its freedom. "It's just as well I settled on a fee of ten pounds," muttered Roberta. "Once Lady Snetton accounts for damages, I'll be lucky to see five."
"She will make you pay for damages?" I asked in surprise.
"You can place a substantial wager on that, Mr Jones." Roberta picked up a painting and hung it on the wall, straightening it. "Once they gain a modicum of wealth, clients like Lady Snetton strive to maintain a deathly grip on it."
I knew what she meant, for I'd noticed many invoices for cleansings whilst I was updating the ledgers earlier that day, and a fair number had yet to be paid. I was about to reassure her that I would soon bring the accounts up to date when I felt the floor moving underfoot, as though something large and heavy were shaking the very foundations of the house. Furniture creaked, a wardrobe door swung open, and one of the paintings Roberta had just replaced fell down again. "What manner of—" I began, but Roberta silenced me with a gesture.
She donned those curious eyeglasses and hurried to the haversack, digging inside until she found what she was looking for: a device which looked just like a metronome. It was only when she set it upon a nearby table that I realised it had three pendulums. Each was tipped with a different colour, the largest being carmine red, the smallest a dull copper and the middle pendulum a ghostly white.
The floorboards were still groaning and creaking underfoot, and to me it