He put the portfolio in his pocket, and kept on to the end of the corridor; then turned to the left, took another short corridor, saw a door in front of him, and turned the knob; but the door did not open.
"What's this? locked? Yes, it is locked," said Cherami to himself. "Gustave must have forgotten the appointment. When he's just on the brink of matrimony, it's quite excusable. I may as well go. But that portfolio? Let's go and inquire at the cashier's office."
The counting-room was at the end of the long corridor. Cherami had passed it once without noticing that it was closed: it was Sunday, a holiday.
But as he turned back toward the door of the counting-room, Cherami exclaimed:
"Upon my word! everything is closed to-day! It's very strange! One would say that circumstances conspired to enable me to appropriate this portfolio with impunity!"
He walked back along the corridor as far as the banker's door; there he halted, saying:
"Let's see if this one is locked, too."
But that door yielded to his pressure, and Cherami found Monsieur Grandcourt in his usual seat. He could not master a slight movement as Cherami appeared, but he instantly repressed it, and greeted him with the customary cool nod, and without rising.
"I have come once more to bore you, monsieur," said his visitor; "I had no intention of doing so, however; but Gustave made an appointment with me for this noon, and I do not find him."
"I don't know where he is, monsieur."