“I did ring the bell, yes.”
“Any particular reason, or just a whim?”
“I thought there was a fire.”
“What gave you that impression, dear?”
“I thought I saw flames.”
“Where, darling? Tell Aunt Dahlia.”
“In one of the windows.”
“I see. So we have all been dragged out of bed and scared rigid because you have been seeing things.”
Here Uncle Tom made a noise like a cork coming out of a bottle, and Anatole, whose moustache had hit a new low, said something about “some apes” and, if I am not mistaken, a “rogommier”—whatever that is.
“I admit I was mistaken. I am sorry.”