In most cases, they know nothing more about their potential victims than their addresses.
The letters always follow the same basic formula: A fortune worth several and sometimes as much as hundreds of millions of dollars needs to be moved from continent to continent, and unfortunate events prevent the owners of the money from doing so.
After falling prey to a scam artist in Lagos, she now hunts them and helps their victims.
Springer-Beck's office is in a dilapidated building in the city's congested downtown area.
Every morning, she fights her way through Lagos' never-ending traffic jams in her dented VW Golf, through eye-stinging smog and the stench of open sewers, past beggars and merchants knocking on her car windows.
Her office is on the building's fourth floor, just below the corrugated metal roof.
They all belong to Germans who have lost their money -- at least 0,000 -- here in Nigeria.
Springer-Beck, a mother and former housewife in the small Bavarian town of Bechhofen, is their last hope.
She speaks German, she knows her way around in this confusing country and, most importantly, she knows what she's talking about.
Now he sits in an office in Lagos, fighting back tears and self-pity, saying: "This is all so embarrassing." Frieda Springer-Beck, a slim woman in her mid-fifties, sits behind her desk wearing a white blouse.
With an encouraging gaze, she takes notes and nods to the man, indicating that he should continue.