The most remarkable fact about Richard Douglas, professional swindler, was that he kept a record of every one of his crimes, as well as a profit-and-loss balance-sheet, which he drew up at the end of each year. His diary was an astonishing document, and had it not been for the craft and obvious guilt of the impostor it might have been used as evidence to prove that he was not quite right in his head. Douglas, however, was too resourceful a thief to be a lunatic, and for some years he victimized all classes in London, where he posed as a baronet and committed depredations upon the trusting and unsuspicious.
The impostor was a man of venerable aspect, with kindly blue eyes and a soft, ingratiating manner. He was born with the name of Douglas, but as his father was a small tradesman in a Surrey village Richard thought he had better disown him, and when he had failed many times to earn an honest living he blazoned forth as "Sir Richard Douglas of Orpington House, Kent," and made his two elder sons partners in his criminal enterprises.
He was an insinuating rascal, and the tradespeople whom he interviewed were easily taken in by his plausible tongue. When he went to a well-known jeweller in Bond Street to select a "present for my wife, Lady Douglas," he had not the slightest difficulty in persuading the merchant to let him have a five hundred guinea diamond necklace on approval. Most swindlers would have been content to disappear with the necklace and realize its value, but "Sir Richard" was more ambitious and greedy, for he was back again in the shop the same afternoon, and, greatly to the gratification of the jeweller, announced that "her ladyship" had been fascinated by the necklace, and that he wished to pay for it there and then.
The impostor drew a cheque for six hundred pounds, and, remarking that his own bank would be closed before he could get to it, induced the jeweller to give him a receipt for the necklace and seventy-five pounds in cash. Of course, the cheque came back marked "No account," and not for many a long day did he see his customer again.
While the "baronet" was busy on swindles of this nature his two sons were equally active. They lacked, of course, the suave polish of their father, but they were bright, intelligent youths, and they could pose as army officers anxious to spend the generous allowance their father, "Sir Richard Douglas," made them. The credulous traders willingly cashed cheques for the young Douglases, and were left eventually with bits of paper as their only souvenirs of their simplicity and trustfulness.
A few months' swindling provided Douglas with sufficient capital to rent an expensive house at Ascot, which became his headquarters, and it was to it that he would retire every week-end from the stress and strain of London. Every Monday morning, however, he would be driven in his carriage to the station to catch the train to London, and to start another week's "work." He dressed for each swindle, and played many characters. On one occasion after having entertained some of the leading people at Ascot to dinner he returned to town the following morning, donned the attire of a broken-down clergyman, and cajoled a large sum from the credulous by a story of ill-health and poverty and a starving wife and children. But generally he was the well-dressed man of the world, and boldly swindled tradespeople under the name of "Sir Richard Douglas."
He had, of course, many narrow escapes. Once he absent-mindedly entered a jeweller's shop—diamonds and gold and silver articles specially appealed to him, because they were easily convertible into hard cash—which he had defrauded only a fortnight earlier. The moment the proprietor saw him he identified him as the man who had given a worthless cheque in exchange for a diamond ring worth a hundred and fifty guineas, but he pretended not to recognize the self-styled "baronet," and he entered into negotiations with "Sir Richard," who was plainly on the warpath again. Now Douglas had that morning told his elder son, Philip, to hang about in the vicinity of the shop, so that when he emerged from it he might unostentatiously pass on to him the spoils, as the impostor intended to steal a few rings, as well as obtain others by false pretences. The wary jeweller, however, was so unusually alert that "Sir Richard" realized the situation.
He was in a tight corner now, for in addition to the presence of the proprietor of the shop a brawny assistant was keeping guard at the door. The "baronet," however, exhibited no sign of fear or mental distress. He just casually glanced out of the window, and raised his handkerchief to his left cheek and brushed it lightly. It was a signal to his son on the other side of the road, and it meant that he was in difficulties.
Philip Douglas was a real chip of the old block, and in a moment he devised a plan to save his venerable parent. Walking briskly into the shop where "Sir Richard" was the only customer—of course, the impostor always selected the least busiest part of the day for his frauds—he peremptorily laid his hand on his father's arm, and in curt tones expressed his delight at having at last captured him.
"It's a bit of luck for you that I was passing and recognized this fellow," he said to the astonished jeweller. "Do you know that he is one of the greatest swindlers in London? I have been looking for him for over a year. Take my advice and see if he has robbed you of anything."