Why had she dropped it there?
It could not have been intentional.

Why had--he began to tear suddenly at the glove's little finger, and in another second, kneeling on the car's step, his shoulders inside, he was holding a ring close under the little electric bulb.
It was a gold seal ring, a small, dainty thing that bore a crest: a bell, surmounted by a bishop's mitre--the bell, quaint in design, harking the imagination back to some old-time belfry tower.

And underneath, in the scroll--a motto.

It was a full minute before Jimmie Dale could decipher it, for the lettering was minute and the words, of course, reversed.

It was in French: SONNEZ LE TOCSIN.
He straightened up, the glove and ring in his hand, a puzzled expression on his face.