The Missing Angel by Erle Cox — Read

Tydvil had gained his heart's desire with Edwin Muskat's nose, but he had to recognise that his adventure had not improved the standing of Basil Williams in the community. In reporting the story the morning papers unanimously demanded the suppression of the now notorious roysterer. Their criticism of the police for another failure to lay their hands on him stirred Russell Street to its depths. Several scalp hunting members of the Opposition ragged the Chief Secretary in the Legislative Assembly on the way in which his department was mismanaged. Next morning he had a heart to heart talk with the Commissioner of Police. The Commissioner left the Ministerial presence with thoughts as red as his close shaven cheeks.

That heart to heart talk, as it filtered down to the lower ranks of the Metropolitan Police Force, lost nothing of its scathing satire. Each subordinate as he received it from his immediate chief added to and embroidered it as an outlet for his own bruised amour propre. By the time it reached the rank and file, both uniformed and plain-clothed, it had assumed the proportions of a hurricane of vituperative malediction.