SWINDLING ONE DOCTOR A DAY
The doctor counted out $1,000 in crisp bank notes. Her ladyship produced two copies of an agreement which, she said, her solicitors had prepared, and these they both signed. Then she bade the departing doctor an almost affectionate farewell and gave him the most minute directions about meeting her in London a month later.
The next day I overheard an almost similar interview with a doctor from Glasgow! The only point of difference was that he paid $1,200 for the option instead of $1,000.
There was no necessity for further eavesdropping. I understood now why Lady Temple read all the medical papers and why so many doctors came to see her. No wonder we lived in luxury with some ambitious doctor contributing at least $1,000 every day to our support!
I said nothing of what I had seen or heard, and, although I continued to live with Lady Temple for several months, she never explained her affairs with the doctors. This seems to be a characteristic of all women swindlers—to deceive even their closest friends and never to tell any one the whole truth about their nefarious schemes.
It was from others that I later learned the complete details of this swindle. There really had been a Sir Edward Temple, who was a great London physician.
Mrs. Gardner, learning of his death from the newspapers, familiarized herself with his career from the obituary notices, secured some photographs of him, and began posing as his widow.
Her advertisements in the medical journals did not mention Sir Edward by name, but it was to be inferred that the practice offered for sale was his, because of his recent death and because the announcements were signed "Lady Temple."
Doctors interested were invited to write her at a post office box address. She replied from Nice, where she had "gone for her health," and invited them to come there and see her. What happened to the unfortunate doctors who made the trip I have already told you.
The supply of physicians willing to pay for an option on a London practice seemed inexhaustible and in a few weeks my friend must easily have cleared $20,000. But she began to tire of Nice and invited me to accompany her to London.
When we reached there we went to Claridge's, in Mayfair, and took one of the finest suites in that exclusive hotel. The morning after our arrival she suggested a shopping expedition.
To my amazement there stood at the hotel door waiting for us a splendid carriage drawn by a prancing pair of horses in heavy silver-plated harness.
On the doors of the carriage was emblazoned a brilliant coat of arms. On the box sat a pompous coachman in livery. A liveried footman stood at attention ready to assist us.
THERE STOOD A SPLENDID CARRIAGE DRAWN BY A PAIR OF PRANCING HORSES
I had hard work to believe it wasn't all a dream as I settled back against the soft silken cushions and heard my friend order us driven to Bond street.
We stopped in front of a famous jewelry store—I made ready to alight, but that, it seems, was not the plan. Instead, her ladyship whispered a message to the footman and he went into the store.
Out came the proprietor, a dignified old Englishman. At sight of this splendid equipage with its crests on the door and the two fine ladies inside, he was all bows and smiles.
"It is not customary," he said, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation of big sales to come, "to let our trays of diamonds go out of the store, but I shall be glad to arrange it for your ladyship."
A clerk appeared carrying two trays full of diamond necklaces, rings, and other jewelry which Lady Temple had asked to see.
"Have you nothing better than these?" said Lady Temple, rather contemptuously, after a casual glance at them.
The eager clerk hurried back to the store and returned with a tray of more elaborate specimens of the jeweler's art.
Lady Temple leisurely selected a necklace, two rings, and a locket—worth in all more than $5,000.
"Send these to Lady Temple's apartments at Claridge's," she said, "and include them in my bill the first of next month. Doubtless you knew my dear husband, the late Sir Edward"—her voice caught as it always did when she spoke his name—"he had an account here for years."