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dressing rooms, which are just behind the stage.”
    Sean wanted a closer shot of the battens, so he stepped over some equipment and steadied himself by grasping one of the ropes. As Sean aimed his camera, Mr. Peabody turned, and a look of terror suddenly came over his face. “Look out!” he yelled. The battens above Sean’s head began to waver.
    â€œSean!” shouted Brian.
    He grabbed Sean’s arm and jerked him to one side of the stage just as one end of the battens snapped and slammed to the floor.
    Sean stared, his heart banging so loudly it hurt his ears. “It crashed right where I was standing!”
    â€œI told you to stand back!” cried Mr. Peabody. “I told you not to touch the ropes!” Brian noticed at once that Mr. Peabody was as frightened as Sean.
    â€œI was just taking pictures,” Sean said.
    â€œWhere you shouldn’t have been!”
    â€œThe battens didn’t fall by themselves,” Brian said.
    Mr. Peabody walked out to center stage and looked up before he answered. “They might have. The ropes are old, and the equipment is probably unstable.”
    â€œI’d like to look at that rope,” Brian said.
    â€œNo! Stay back! It may not be safe,” Mr. Peabody warned, but Brian had already taken the end of the rope in his hand and stepped far enough back so that he was no longer under the hanging equipment.
    â€œIt’s frayed,” he said as he studied the feathered ends of the rope.
    â€œI told you all this equipment is old,” Mr. Peabody said.
    Brian dropped the rope and wiped his hands on his pants. The rope had been awfully dirty and dusty.
    â€œIt could have been the ghost,” Debbie Jean whispered. She turned to stare at the spot on the stage where the greenish glowing ghost had appeared during their last visit.
    Sean stared, too, holding his breath. “Brian,” he said.
    But Brian was pointing at the empty seat in the back row of the theater. Where was Miss Beezly?

CHAPTER SEVEN

    B RIAN AND SEAN RAN down the aisle, with the others following. But they froze in their tracks when they heard the same strange creaking sound that had accompanied the appearance of the ghost the day before.
    They turned slowly toward the stage. The severed head of Miss Beezly, in its frothy pink hat, was resting on the stage floor. The eyes in its head looked directly at Sean.
    â€œIt’s exactly as I suspected,” said the head matter-of-factly.
    â€œShe can still talk!” Sean yelled.
    Debbie Jean screamed at the top of her lungs.
    â€œYou have a powerful set of lungs, dear, which is a distinct advantage for an actress,” Miss Beezly said. “But please don’t scream again. It hurts my ears.”
    Slowly the head of Miss Beezly rose up from the stage floor. In a few seconds Miss Beezly’s arms and legs and shoes became visible, too. She stepped forward. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” she said as if scolding herself.
    â€œThink of what?” Sean managed to ask.
    â€œI followed a little side corridor that led to the basement, and sure enough there was a ladder right under the trapdoor. It’s obvious that our so-called ghost had no one with him to work the levers that raise the platform, so he used a ladder.”
    â€œA trapdoor!” Brian exclaimed. He rushed back onto the stage.
    â€œOh, yes,” Miss Beezly said. “The trap is very cleverly hidden from the audience in the orchestra level, and even onstage you’d need much better lighting than this in order to see it clearly.”
    She giggled. “Do you remember, Tyrone dear, when we produced Blithe Spirit and my lovely flowing white dress got caught in the trapdoor?”
    â€œI remember only the excellence of your performance, Nora Ann.” Mr. Peabody gave a stiff little bow.
    Leaving the two of them to talk about old times, Brian, Sean, Sam, and Debbie Jean rushed to look at