The Full Weight Of The Law
Abberline was onto something, a plot was afoot to humiliate Her Majesty's police force! True, he was the only (known) target so far but this was a matter of professional pride; he could not wait for full evidence. Hissing slightly as in his distraction he had nicked himself with the razor, Abberline dedicated the next few moments to moustache maintenance.
The plot! He had been chastised before for acting on rumours but this time it was different. Not only were the press refusing to report his name correctly, but now some scoundrel actually had the gall to tamper with his uniform! The gentry could pay for a tailor at a moment's notice (along with personal chefs to make British delicacies such as trifle, eel pie...) but a working officer did not have such a luxury. No, his place was out on the field, protecting the citizens, inspiring the men - a task made difficult when worried one's buttons could fly off into the night.
Several times he had suspected that the washer-woman had been bribed to shrink his clothing. Once or twice it had even crossed his mind that tomfoolery was afoot in the lower ranks. It was impossible to make a suitably dramatic entrance at the moment!
Morning ablutions completed, Abberline once again resolved to face the day's unpleasant truths head-on. As a respectable officer of the law, today he would stick to his diet.