The return of Detective Constable Aashi Bhatt

When I wrote the "Silver, Blaise" series I always intended DC Aashi Bhatt to return for more adventures - hence the ending of that series, with Aashi rescued from the Romanian castle and returned to police service, but with an ominous reminder that comic but menacing criminal mastermind Govind Joshi has not given up on her. A couple of people commented that they hoped this wasn't the last we'd hear of these characters.

So now I'll soon be able to share a further adventure involving at least Aashi and her boss Sam Stalker. Aashi will go undercover again - but this time in a strict Catholic girls' school, masquerading as a schoolgirl, with Sam pretending to be a teacher. The previous series was mainly based on the Sherlock Holmes story "Silver Blaise", with elements of the James Bond story "Goldfinger"; but this one is based on the G.K. Chesterton Father Brown detective story "The Sign of the Broken Sword". I recommend people to read the original! But as the Father Brown stories are not widely read today - at least in comparison to Sherlock Holmes - I wanted to introduce readers to the opening of Chesterton's story, both because it's one of the best bits of descriptive writing ever and because I've parodied (or at least, closely drawn on) it in my opening, which would be lost to those who didn't know the story. So here are the bits echoed in what I'll be posting in my story when it's ready:

The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. The black hollows between the trunks of the trees looked like bottomless, black caverns of that Scandinavian hell, a hell of incalculable cold. Even the square stone tower of the church looked northern to the point of heathenry, as if it were some barbaric tower among the sea rocks of Iceland. It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring.
It rose abruptly out of the ashen wastes of forest in a sort of hump or shoulder of green turf that looked grey in the starlight. Most of the graves were on a slant, and the path leading up to the church was as steep as a staircase. On the top of the hill, in the one flat and prominent place, was the monument for which the place was famous. It contrasted strangely with the featureless graves all round, for it was the work of one of the greatest sculptors of modern Europe; and yet his fame was at once forgotten in the fame of the man whose image he had made. It showed, by touches of the small silver pencil of starlight, the massive metal figure of a soldier recumbent, the strong hands sealed in an everlasting worship, the great head pillowed upon a gun.....................................
In this freezing darkness of mid-winter one would think he might be left alone with the stars. Nevertheless, in the stillness of those stiff woods a wooden gate creaked, and two dim figures dressed in black climbed up the little path to the tomb.......................................

So faint was that frigid starlight that nothing could have been traced about them except that while they both wore black, one man was enormously big, and the other (perhaps by contrast) almost startlingly small. They went up to the great graven tomb of the historic warrior, and stood for a few minutes staring at it. There was no human, perhaps no living, thing for a wide circle; and a morbid fancy might well have wondered if they were human themselves. In any case, the beginning of their conversation might have seemed strange. After the first silence the small man said to the other:
"Where does a wise man hide a pebble?"
And the tall man answered in a low voice: "On the beach."
The small man nodded, and after a short silence said: "Where does a wise man hide a leaf?"
And the other answered: "In the forest."
They descended the precipitous path, they relatched the rusty gate, and set off at a stamping, ringing walk down the frozen forest road. They had gone a full quarter of a mile before the smaller man spoke again. He said: "Yes; the wise man hides a pebble on the beach. But what does he do if there is no beach?..........................................................

"Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In the forest. But what does he do if there is no forest?"
"Well, well," cried Flambeau irritably, "what does he do?"
"He grows a forest to hide it in," said the priest in an obscure voice. "A fearful sin."

Whilst welcoming the return of the gallant and undoubtedly sore Det. Aashi, can I say how delighted I am at the reference to the G K Chesterton Father Brown Stories. I still have the complete volume somewhere, and I read them all when I was very much younger.

I well remember the story you are featuring, which takes the form of a narrative of past events rather than a straightforward detective story. I won't give the plot away to spoil the enjoyment for those who read it for the first time, but would only say that one of the characters described, (not the principal one) is based on a real person well known in South America.

Thanks, Lincoln. By the way, I meant the Sherlock Holmes story "Silver Blaze"!

The Latin American figure must be Olivier in the story, unless it's The Vulture. Could Olivier be based on Bolivar? I'm curious (and intrigued, too).

I've now sent our custodians Part 1, partly so anyone interested can easily compare my opening with Chesterton's.

I agree about the Father Brown stories. The Queer Feet is very clever too.

Yes BH I believe the character of Olivier was indeed based on Simon Bolivar, who was famous for his magnanimity to his enemies.

Thanks, Lincoln. Now you've got me thinking - if Olivier was based on Bolivar, was St Clair based on any real historical figure? In the externals only, I mean! General Gordon?

Regarding the GK Chesterton stories, if you have a kindle then you could download The Complete Father Brown for a few pence.
Compulsory reading for anyone wishing to write descriptive text IMO

It's an intriguing thought! I would have thought unlikely as Gordon was basically such an honourable man. The stories were originally published in 1929, which means GK had a whole shaft of WW1 generals to go at who seemed quite indifferent to the losses of the men under their command. That gives you people like Haig, Gough, Rawlinson, not to mention some of the Corps Commanders, like Hunter-Weston and the unspeakable Godley, whose wife wanted to put wounded men on a charge if they didn't lie to attention when she visited them in hospital!

One can speculate all day as to whether St. Clair was based on a true figure.

Point taken, but St Clair was seen as a spotless hero well after his death, someone militarily-minded boys would worship, while the WW1 generals' reputations dived pretty quickly (excessively, perhaps, as not all of them were incapable and they were dealing with numbers and a type of warfare unfamiliar to them). On the whole, too, the WW1 lot didn't make a big thing about religion. A possible model from Chesterton's time would be Sir Henry Wilson, firmly Protestant, hugely intelligent and an admired but divisive figure.

I've just sent in Part 2, in which Aashi joins the school pretending to be a 16-year-old schoolgirl, and is treated to an initiation.

Just announcing that a pink angel has made a requested amendment to Part 1. A divider that was in my text posted to the Library somehow got left out, leading to confusion as the action had switched from Father Black's study to a pub. In case of any remaining confusion, the angel has also helpfully added the words "in the crowded pub". Now read Part 2 and see how Aashi is faring remembering she's an undercover policewoman while facing an initiation ceremony from her fellow schoolgirls!