They followed him inside where the Director indicated two chairs alongside the desk.
"I've been checking your claims," he said. "And since you were still here, I didn't think it advisable to prolong the suspense."
Claude glanced at his wife.
"You mean it's all right ... the land is ours?"
The Director sat down and spread open a pair of folders on the desk. For a long while he stared at them—comparing them. He shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Marshall. I'm afraid it isn't all right."
"But our claim. It's valid, isn't it?"
Leon Stubbs ran a hand through his greying hair. "I don't know," he said. "Naturally the fault for processing duplicate claims lies with the colonization bureau in Washington. Eventually, I suppose it will be up to them to decide on the disposition of this case.... However, because of the time-lag in communications, I have full authority to pass down temporary decisions in matters of this type.... And because Mr. Whiting's claim is dated several days ahead of yours, I must in all fairness award the land to him.... You and your wife can appeal that decision of course."
"We'll appeal, Mr. Stubbs," Claude said angrily. "After all, this mess is the government's fault. Not ours! It's up to them to straighten it out."
"That's up to you," Leon Stubbs said. "Although I'm sure you realize that in the meantime you'll have to make some temporary arrangements."