“Copy of paper nailed up in post office,” Crunch said.
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”
They leaped into a native taxi, urging the driver to speed and more speed. The taxi creaked and groaned, but it got them there.
In the post office the three read the copy of the document carefully.
“It’s not so good, is it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked.
“No, it isn’t.”
“I don’t quite understand it, Mr. Keene,” Derek said.
“Well, Derek, cutting through the legal phraseology, it comes down to this: Dietz went to Fort-de-France while we were searching for your father. He has challenged your right to the claim, on the grounds that you’re a minor. How old are you, Derek?”
“I’ll be eighteen my next birthday.”
“Well, what Dietz has obtained—in legal terms—is a temporary injunction. It goes into effect five days from now. At that time, the claim and the working permit will be suspended until the courts decide whether Derek is the rightful heir to the claim. I’m sorry, Derek,” Charlie Keene said soberly, “but Dietz has obtained this injunction on the grounds that your father is deceased.”