Nor during my sojourn did anybody in my hearing so much as mention the Dead Rat.

I doubt whether it is still in existence.
The last time I was in Maxim's--quite a dozen years ago now--a young woman sat next to me whose story could be read in her face.

She was a pretty thing not five and twenty, still blooming, with iron-gray hair.

It had turned in a night, I was told.

She had recently come from Baltimore and knew no more what she was doing or whither she was drifting than a baby.