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Now, Cranmore wires me in code from Limasito that someone down there is mightily interested in our titles and leases and particularly in what new fields we're opening up. I tell you, if you don't get in touch with that old woman soon, somebody will beat us to it as sure as you're alive." "I have got a line on her." Wiley paused to light a cigar.
It is a square structure, with projecting balconies, built in 1862. Though of no artistic merit, it is worth a visit on account of the extensive panorama which it commands. Cranmore, West, a village with station on the G.W. branch line to Wells. The church has a good Perp. W. tower of the Shepton type, with triple belfry windows. Within is an ancient bier and some monuments to the Strode family.
The site affords a fine prospect over Taunton Dean and the adjoining levels. Coxley, a village 2 m. S. from Wells, served by Polsham Station, on the S. & D. branch to Glastonbury. The church is modern . Cranmore, East, 1 m. On the summit of the neighbouring hill is a tower, one of the most conspicuous objects on the E. Mendip range.
"We're on the right side of the fence now, nobody can touch us. Anything from Cranmore?" "Yes. Whoever it is that is trying to get a line on us isn't overlooking any bets. Our men have been keeping me posted on the inquiries up here, and they've got the dope so straight that it's my opinion they have reached one of the inside staff."
Ripley Halstead and her daughter, Angelica, while behind them appeared seven men; Halstead himself, his son, Vernon, Starr Wiley, Harrington Chase, Mason North and his son, Winthrop, and a stranger whom a second glance revealed as Cranmore, the Mexican representative of the Chase-Wiley interests. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but we've been waiting for you!"
There are also five carved figures on the vestry cupboard, which are possibly the five Wise Virgins. The W. door is closed by a bar inserted in the wall. At Slough Farm is an old moated manor house. Stoke St Mary, a parish 2 m. E. of Thorne Falcon Station. N. of Cranmore Station. Its church is an instructive example of architectural depravity, but internally has been much improved.
The moor is composed of vast stretches of bog and stunted heather, with plenty of places where peat is cut, and having its streams filled with trout. Legend tells us that all manner of hill-and water-spirits frequent this desolate yet attractive region, and that in Cranmore Pool and its surrounding bogs, whence the Dart takes its rise, there dwelt the "pixies" and the "kelpies."
"Miss Trevor? How is she?" Mrs. Carnarvon was looking closely at him, and he was not sure that he succeeded in showing nothing more than friendly interest. "Haven't you heard from her? She's in England, visiting in Lancashire. You know her cousin married Lord Cranmore." "I saw in the papers several months ago that she was going abroad. I haven't heard a word since." Mrs.
Downhead, a straggling village 2-1/2 m. N.E. of Cranmore Station. The church is small and devoid of interest. It has been "restored" regardless of style. Downside, a scattered parish without a village 1/2 m. The church is an ugly little structure, pseudo-E.E., built in 1837. A quarter of a mile beyond the church in a field on the right are the "fairy slats."
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