A few balls later, another ball fractionally short of a length from Suranga Lakmal was punched through midwicket with precise footwork and a light swivel of the body.
It was a movement that might have interested the producers of Strictly Come Dancing. It produced another four. A delicate and old-fashioned late cut produced two more.
There were neat clips and easy drives and he had soon skimmed to thirty in his usual sublime fashion.
The fact is, Bell has always had talent. On the day of his Test debut in 2004 against the West Indies people immediately remarked on his poise and elegant style at the crease.
There was lovely balance and transference of weight and he caressed the ball with silky timing.
His movements were always beautifully oiled. His innings invariably drew coos and purrs of appreciation.
These were often followed by groans of irritation some time later as he gave away his wicket to a careless stroke. His problem was he didn’t totally believe in that talent, uncertain that he had a right to be on the biggest stage in cricket.
The real difference in the past 18 months – perhaps since his nerveless, defiant batting in Cape Town to help save a Test match – has been his intent.
He now bats with real purpose, looking from ball one to properly impose himself on the bowling.
This doesn’t necessarily mean thumping balls to the boundary, or puffing out his chest and rehearsing punch drives, but playing the ball with conviction in defence or attack.
It means hitting the ball with deliberate, rather than half-hearted intent. It means playing with control and precision as in his recently honed late cut.
He still unveils the exquisite shots, the regal drives, the deft cuts, the wristy flicks, but there is now a certainty in their execution. That comes from within.
He believes he belongs in this arena, and deserves to dominate it. One thousand and 50 runs in his last 12 Tests at an average of over 100 is proof of that.
He is a batsman at the absolute peak of his powers.
Perversely, he is ranked the 17th best batsman in the world, one place behind New Zealand’s Ross Taylor. That will change after this series.
But how good is he? The difficulty with this series is it’s hard to make serious judgments.
The Sri Lankan bowling attack, only county second division at best, was reduced to benefit match standard yesterday, as a half-fit Fernando hobbled in off a 10 pace run up, and the other wearying bowlers sent down deliveries with low, tilted actions that never swung or seamed.
They were supported, if that was the word, by fumbling fiedling and an escort service to the boundary.
There was about as much effervescence in Sri Lanka’s out-cricket as in a bottle of flat coke. Bell took full toll.
Many knew, from the outset, that this series would be a mismatch.
A strong England side were always liable to dominate a depleted Sri Lankan one, without Murali or Malinga to give their attack a cutting edge, and with other players still blinking from the bright lights and high salaries of the IPL.
The trouble is this has become a routine in the early part of the summer. Some unfortunate sub-continental team are flown in to the UK in May and early June to combat alien conditions and be ritually slaughtered by English predators.
England have lost just two tests and no series since the advent of an early summer Test series to precede the main event.
The administrators are pushing their luck. These series are hard to sell. There are empty stands and hospitality boxes. The public are not fools.
They recognise important events, they can also identify those that lack true significance or a competitive edge.
A television audience of 500,000 watched the Division Two play-off final between Torquay United and Stevenage on May 28.
On the same day fewer than half that number watched the third day of the first Test between England and Sri Lanka.
It is a worry. It needs a rethink.
Even a beneficiary like Bell would concede that. But at least now, with 14 Test hundreds, he can be talked about in the same breath as Ian Botham.
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