"But I told the clerk," I broke in.
"What clerk?" he interrupted in an astonished tone.
"Why, the clerk at the desk, where I registered—that long-necked crane with red eyes."
"He ain't no clerk; we ain't had one for a week. Don't you know what's goin' on? Ain't you read the bills? Step out into the hall—there's one posted up right in front of you. 'Sheriff's sale; all the stock and fixtures of the Norrington Arms to be sold on Wednesday morning'—that's to-morrow—'by order of the Court.' You can read the rest yourself; print's too fine for me. That fellow you call a crane is a deputy sheriff. He's takin' charge, while we eat up what's in the house."