Another of her fads was a habit of giving costly presents on the slightest provocation. To impress a local piano dealer with her importance she walked into his showroom one day and counted the number of instruments he happened to have in stock. There were twenty-seven of them all told, and Mrs. Chadwick promptly gave him a list of twenty-seven of her friends, and told him to deliver one of his pianos to each with her compliments. Although somewhat taken aback at such an order, and hearing that Mrs. Leroy Chadwick always paid for her eccentricity, the piano dealer dared not doubt her word, and promised to deliver the instruments. Again she ordered a dozen costly clocks, one of which was made of gold, works and all. She kept the latter for herself, and gave away the others. Her servants came in for many of her gifts, and she decked out her cook with so many costly clothes that the good dame grew too big for her job, and gave notice on the ground that the work was undignified, and tended to ruin her wardrobe!
Of course, these ventures in extravagance could not have been accomplished without a considerable amount of ready money. American tradesmen are not all "mugs," and no matter how beautiful Lydia Chadwick may have been, had she not been in a position to pay her tradesmen, they would have spoiled her little schemes by pressing for the settlement of their accounts.
Dr. Chadwick could not, however, keep pace with her expenditure, and she fell back upon forgery, and now she began her greatest exploit, which, before it landed her in the dock of an unsympathetic criminal Court, enabled her to handle nearly a million dollars.
One day she drove in a costly carriage, with coachman and footman in attendance, to the bank, and with impressive dignity walked in and requested the manager to advance the modest sum of fifty thousand pounds. Naturally the official asked for security. Mrs. Chadwick yawned and opened her purse bag.
"I presume you have heard of my uncle, Mr. Andrew Carnegie?" she asked sarcastically.
The banker declared that he knew a great deal about the millionaire, whose name will for ever be associated with Pittsburg iron and free libraries.
"Well, then," said the lady, with her nose in the air, "here are two notes signed by him. You can see they are worth £150,000. Perhaps you consider them sufficient security for such a paltry sum as I want you to lend me for a few weeks."
They were, of course, ample security, but the manager, a shrewd business man, determined to take no risks. He, therefore, politely hinted that while he would not dare to doubt the genuineness of the signature of the famous millionaire, "just for form's sake," he would like to have a responsible person swear that the writing was Mr. Carnegie's. He rather expected Mrs. Chadwick to be offended, but she merely told him that the gentleman who had delivered the notes to her that morning was still in town. "And as he is Mr. Carnegie's New York lawyer I think he ought to know his handwriting."
The lawyer was fetched, and he not only identified the signatures, but added the overwhelming testimony that he had been present himself when Mr. Carnegie had drawn up and signed the notes. After that there was nothing to be done but to credit Mrs. Chadwick with fifty thousand pounds, and deposit the precious securities in the safe.
A month later the whole of the money had evaporated. Clamouring tradesmen had had to be satisfied, advances from money-lenders liquidated, and scores of persons to be impressed by large orders for various goods, for which cash was paid. Meanwhile the Carnegie notes rested securely in the strong room of the bank, for it was some time ere the manager was to know that they were worthless forgeries, and that Mrs. Chadwick did not know Mr. Carnegie, neither had she ever seen him in her life!