Scam

The rue Lacan between the English pub and the post office is something of a dog toilet, so we are used to walking with our eyes peeled for faecal matter on the pavement. Yesterday, as we were heading for the shops, a lady dressed in what could be described as gypsy/arab clothes came up to us and asked, in French but with a foreign accent, if we knew who had dropped the ring which she had just found on the pavement. Was it gold, she asked. Did we want it, as it was against her religion to wear jewels. When we said it ought to be deposited with the police, she pressed it into our hands, started to walk off, then wheeled round and asked us for money. Of course it was a scam. We deposited the ring pointedly where she had claimed to have found it. I prefer honest begging to that kind of insult to the intelligence. I wonder how often it works, though...