They were a very close group of ex-window ladies from Amsterdam, who had plans, and needed a patsy for their plans to work. I was an English gentleman, who enjoyed a coffee with a group of friends every morning.
A woman from the bank I used, smiled at us every morning, and gave us a sweet. It started as a joke, but she now handed us one I presume in the hope we would use her bank.
Unknown to us, she was the one who had alerted the group to the fuddle the bank was pulling. They calculated the interest to three decimal places, but paid it to two, the extra was put into a slush fund. To the customer it was negligible, but with a couple of million accounts calculated daily, it amounted to millions over the year, which the directors got as a bonus.
She was also the lover of the bank manager, and they needed the account number which was where I came in.
One of the group, befriended me, and we became lovers, they took me and, unknown to me, I was to play the part of his lover, and in pain so the manager would disclose the account number. It worked but I fell in love with her, and she did with me, which created problems for the group, pain and discomfort, for me.