Слово "sign". Англо-русский словарь Мюллера

it looks like the AI recognized it as most likely to be a road sign

Each one of us is a prisoner in a solitary tower and he communicates with the other prisoners, who form mankind, by conventional signs that have not quite the same meaning for them as for himself.

The small sign said,

“Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give him a price for the stones he held—£1000 apiece. That brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. ‘Why, dash it all!’ said he, ‘I’ve let them go at six hundred for the three!’ I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at £1000 apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o’clock, after what I may call a really hard day’s work.”

One of them was tall and middle-aged, in a plaid blouse and tweed skirt. She had a mass of faded yellow hair unbecomingly arranged in a large bun, wore glasses, and had a long mild amiable face rather like a sheep. She was listening to the third woman, a stout, pleasant-faced, elderly person who was talking in a slow clear monotone which showed no signs of pausing for breath or coming to a stop.

It was a bad sign to him that he had forgotten.

[18] Then answered the Jews and said unto him, What sign shewest thou unto us, seeing that thou doest these things?

Once in the shade of the barely greening lindens, the writers dashed first thing to a brightly painted stand with the sign: `Beer and Soft Drinks.'

“Meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. “I ain’t seen a rabbit sign for days.”

“John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He’s a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He’s a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to find the man himself. He’ll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. I’ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet.”

He huffed und he puffed und he... signed an eviction notice.

The queen and I will sign a treaty that will legitimize our occupation here.

"You signed a contract?"

Before signing off, Pickering had given Rachel two additional pieces of disturbing information.

«I have to sign off here. It’s after two in the morning. My roommate just woke up and complained about the noise from the typewriter.»

"You're back pretty goddam late if she only signed out for nine-thirty.