But she couldn't just stand there, feeling sick. She made a dart at the bed, remembering her own invariable hiding-place for illicit comics when she was small, and pushed back the mattress. There lay a solitaire diamond ring and a crescent brooch, the very bag with Midland Bank on it that she had handed to the unknown at the gymkhana, a soft pigskin purse.
("I was right," she though, "I was right!")
From FOURPENNY FAIR, Chapter 15, Proof.