Eighteen“Who's this?” Paul asked.
He watched through the top of the window as the newcomer made his way across the campus, headed straight for Caleb and Arthur. He was a mean-looking older man in a straw hat and appeared to be shouting, though Paul could make out none of his words. He was waving a hand, missing most of its fingers, to highlight whatever point he was making. Caleb and Arthur, who's attention had been devoted to the community house, turned in unison at the stranger's approach.
“He's an old fart but he looks relatively normal, whoever he is,” Paul reported. “Seriously ticked off, if I don't miss my guess, but normal. And… now Caleb and Arthur are looking at him.”
Angela moved toward the door with her eye on the table blockade. She was reaching for it when Paul jumped down
