Arthur eyes him suspiciously. Innkeepers searching grapes - um. It doesn't make a lot of sense. "Aren't the people here hiring helping hands? Is it customary to do all the work by yourself, then?" he asks, his nostrils still flaring, but with less strain in his voice. "And what about that inn's name? Does it mean anything?"
Somehow we find it hard to believe that Arthur knows the word ineffable.