Near as I could make out, Mallory goes for it in his polite, standoff, after-you way, and the closest he gets to Russky is a minute with a cocky secretary that says his Excellency is very sorry, but he'll be too busy to see him this trip maybe next time, about 1912, he'll have an hour off. "And then you backs up the alley?" says I. "There was nothing else for me to do," says Mallory.
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