The junk has disappeared. In its stead is a mess hall with a cavernous ceiling, a large winding staircase, a roaring fireplace and several portraits on the walls.  There are tables and chairs and flagons of drink and patrons sitting at those tables, nibbling at their food and chatting and not minding the fact that there is a broomstick sweeping the floor or that the dirty plates and cutlery float on their own to the kitchens or that the pictures inside their newspapers are moving.