A Brass Call Bell

Enough whistling indoors! I hitched a brisk ride inside an open satchel across damp London straight to Cecil Court, leaping down onto the sheltered stone step of a bookshop. Right beside an iron grille sat an old brass desk call bell, plunger stuck halfway down under layers of dry soot! Naturally, I whipped out the sonic screwdriver in an instant, buzzing a sharp cyan pitch right against the internal plunger spring. A sudden rattle, a crisp clatter, and ding! A glorious, crystal-clear chime echoed right down the covered arcade. Absolutely brilliant!