The affair made a great noise at the time, and the newspapers were full of its scandalous details. But the public soon forgets, and as to the newspapers--they found other victims. Besides, Jimmy's prospects were too bright to permit of him being dropped from sight altogether. It was not forgotten that one day he would step into his brother's shoes and then Society, willy nilly, would have to do homage to his money.
This rich brother, by the way, was largely responsible for Jimmy's undoing. They were both--he and John--the sons of poor English people who immigrated to America five years after John's birth. The father was a journeyman baker and started a small business in Pittsburg. Two cousins of the same name, William and Henry, haberdashers by trade, had likewise settled and prospered in New Jersey. Fifteen years later the mother died in giving birth to another son. The elder boy, a taciturn, hard-working lad with a taste for figures, had found employment in the steel industry, then in its infancy, but growing with giant strides. As he acquired experience, his position was improved until, before long, he was known as one of the most expert steel workers in the iron region. Suddenly, dire calamity befell the little family. One fateful morning, while making his early rounds, the baker was run over and killed by a railroad train. It was a staggering blow, but John rose manfully to the emergency. Silent, serious, masterful, his brain teeming with ideas that would revolutionize the entire steel trade, he stoically buried his progenitor and despatched the orphaned Jimmy to school.
The years passed. The discoveries of vast ore fields in Michigan and Wisconsin had made the United States the biggest producer of steel in the world. The pace set was terrific, orders poured in from all corners of the globe, plants were kept going night and day, a steady stream of gold flowed into the coffers of the delighted steelmakers who soon became millionaires over night. John Marsh had long since been a partner in the company to which he had remained loyal since boyhood, and in the orgy of profit sharing, he found himself with stock holdings representing millions.
James naturally shared in the good fortune. The hard-working John grudged nothing to the drone. He paid the boy's way through college and gave him a liberal allowance. When he was old enough and had sufficient schooling he'd put him in the steel business and make a man of him. But, unfortunately, Jimmy was not made of the same stern stuff as his brother. Expensive tastes and dubious acquaintances were about all that he acquired at the University. He gambled and drank and got hopelessly entangled in debt. John was not blind to his brother's faults, but, in a measure, he excused them. To the elder brother, plodding, methodical, sober, the hare-brained, irresponsible Jimmy was always "the kid." What was the use of taking him seriously? One day he'd get tired of making an ass of himself. So he paid his debts without complaint. One day Jimmy boldly demanded an increase in his allowance. John, still unruffled, shook his head. "No, kid," he said quietly, "you must manage with what I give you. When I'm gone you'll get it all." This was the first time that John had hinted at the disposition he had made of his fortune. Of course, it was only natural that an old bachelor should leave practically everything to his only brother, but this was the first intimation he had given of his intentions. Rendered almost speechless from emotion, Jimmy hurried to the money lenders and borrowed on "futures" to the limit.