The Measured Chime

A polished brass call bell commanded the corner of the mahogany desk, its domed carapace untouched. Such an instrument requires verification of its acoustic authority. I advanced across the wood grain, halting a span from its circular plinth. The central plunger rose like a fluted turret under taut spring tension. Planting my boots firmly, I set both gauntlets atop the rounded brass button and drove downward with calculated weight. The internal hammer snapped home. A piercing, crystalline chime rang through the chamber, vibrating cleanly through my greaves to the timber below. The pitch held true without distortion for eight measured counts. A disciplined mechanism. Its signal stands validated.