The Correction Club
By Johnny Chesham from Janus 34 You’d hardly have noticed it in the foggy winter night — a small brass name-plate reading The Correction Club in elegant italics. A tall man in a black cape and topper pulled energetically on the ornate Edwardian bell as a shaft of eerie gaslight fell across his features and the departing hansom cab rattled away, soon swallowed in the omnipresent silence. Slowly the door opened. ‘Good evening, Major,’ a solemn butler in black tails intoned. ‘Evening, Hodges!’ the man rapped and strode briskly into the hall. With a swirl he removed his cape which he thrust at the servant with his black silk hat. Curiously he retained a shiny black cane which had passed unnoticed in the voluminous folds. ‘The members are in the club-room, sir,’ Hodges announced and retired with a deep bow. The Major tapped his cane solidly into his left palm with a smart crack. Then with sudden vigour he mounted...