On this night a brilliant assemblage stood about in the ballroom floor
ready for a quadrille. Elena Ashley and her betrothed were near the wide
entrance doors.
"There is "Sheriff Paul of Calaveras County," she told him. "He does not
dance. I wonder what brings him here?"
The doors opened and Rosa Phillips entered, magnificently jewelled and
dressed in a rich silk of pearl grey. Elena stared, clutching at her
partner's arm.
"Oh, look!" she shrieked , "she is wearing my wedding dress. My wedding
dress which was stitched at the shop of Rosenthal the peddler, in
Sacramento, and which he was to bring me two weeks ago. I know it is
mine! There is the pearl passe-mentre on it that was my mother's. There
is none other like it in California!"
"So?" answered Rosa cooly, glancing down at the voluminous silken folds
of her robe. Then she stood waving her big fan, her large, dark eyes
roving across the throng.
"Mine Host" came quickly forward. "It is not permitted, senora, that you
- "
Rosa smiled cynically.
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