When John Marsh, the steel man, died, there was considerable stir in the inner circles of New York society. And no wonder. The wealthy ironmaster's unexpected demise certainly created a most awkward situation. It meant nothing less than the social rehabilitation of a certain individual who, up to this time, had been openly snubbed, not to say deliberately "cut" by everybody in town. In other words, Society was compelled, figuratively speaking, to go through the humiliating and distasteful performance of eating crow. Circumstances alter cases. While the smart set was fully justified in making a brave show of virtuous indignation when one of its members so far forgot himself as to get kicked out of his club, it was only natural that the offending gentleman's peccadilloes were to be regarded in a more indulgent light when he suddenly fell heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the country. It was too bad about "Jimmy" Marsh. His reputation was unsavory and he deserved all of it. Total lack of moral principle combined with an indolent, shiftless disposition had given him a distorted outlook on things. All his life he had been good for nothing, and at the age of forty he found himself a nuisance to himself and everybody else. Yet he was not without a natural cunning which sometimes passed for smartness, but he often overreached himself and committed blunders of which a clever man would never be guilty. To put it plainly, Jimmy was crooked. Fond of a style of living which he was not able to afford and desperate for funds with which to gratify his expensive tastes, he had foolishly attempted to cheat at cards. His notions of honor and common decency had always been nebulous, and when one night, in a friendly game, he clumsily tried to deal himself an ace from the bottom of the deck, not even the fact that he was the brother and sole heir of one of the richest men in the United States could save him from ignominious expulsion.