Ghost in the First Row by Gertrude Chandler Warner

CHAPTER 1
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle
    “Is it really haunted, Grandfather?” asked six-year-old Benny, his eyes huge.
    “Haunted?” James Alden looked puzzled, but only for a moment. “Oh, I suppose you children heard me on the phone?”
    Jessie poured more milk into Benny’s glass. “Yes, you were talking to Aunt Jane about the Trap-Door Theater, Grandfather,” she explained. At twelve, Jessie often acted like a mother to her younger brother and sister.
    Violet, who was ten, looked up. “Benny heard you say it was haunted, Grandfather.”
    Fourteen-year-old Henry shook his head. “Ghosts don’t exist, Benny,” he said. He sounded very sure.
    The four Alden children—Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny—were sitting around the dining room table with their grandfather. They were discussing their upcoming visit to nearby Elmford. Aunt Jane had invited the children to stay with her while Uncle Andy was away on business.
    Grandfather put down his fork. “The Trap-Door Theater was closed years ago, Benny,” he explained. “Sometimes people start talking about ghosts when a building’s been empty for a long time.”
    “That’s true,” said Mrs. McGregor, as she came into the room. “It’s been called the haunted theater for as long as I can remember.” She placed a bowl of salad on the table. “From what I’ve heard, they’ve done a wonderful job fixing up the old place.”
    Grandfather nodded. “That building was quite an eyesore,” he said. “Now it looks just like it did when it was first built in the late 1800s.”
    “Aunt Jane bought tickets for opening night,” Violet told their housekeeper, her eyes shining. “We’ll be seeing a mystery play.”
    “And mysteries are our specialty!” added Benny sounding just as excited as his sister. There was nothing the children loved better than a mystery and together they’d managed to solve quite a few.
    “I bet you’ll have that mystery figured out before the last act, Benny,” guessed Mrs. McGregor.
    “Well, I am very good at sniffing out clues,” Benny admitted.
    Henry couldn’t help laughing. “Benny, you’re almost as good at sniffing out clues as you are at sniffing out food!”
    “Right!” Benny gave his brother the thumbs-up sign. The youngest Alden was known for his appetite. He was always hungry.
    “Aunt Jane had a hunch you’d enjoy a good whodunit,” said Grandfather, as Mrs. McGregor walked out of the room.
    “A what?” Benny looked puzzled.
    “A whodunit,” Henry repeated. “That’s another name for a mystery, Benny.”
    “Oh, I get it,” said Benny, catching on. “They call it a whodunit because you figure out who did it. Right?”
    “Right,” said Grandfather, as he passed the salad along. “And the play’s supposed to be a first-rate whodunit. At least, that’s what Aunt Jane tells me.”
    “One thing’s for sure,” said Jessie. “It’ll be great to see Aunt Jane again.”
    “I’ll second that!” Henry said.
    “Yes, it’s been a while since you’ve had a visit.” Grandfather helped himself to the mashed potatoes.
    Just then, Watch ran over, wagging his tail.
    “Sorry, Watch,” Violet said, petting their family dog softly on the head. “You can’t go with us this time.”
    “Dogs aren’t allowed on the train,” said Benny.
    “Besides,” put in Violet, “you need to keep Grandfather and Mrs. McGregor company while we’re gone.”
    “And look after our boxcar,” added Henry.
    After their parents died, the four Alden children had run away. For a while, their home was an old boxcar in the woods. But then their grandfather, James Alden, had found them. He brought his grandchildren to live with him in his big white house in Greenfield. Even the boxcar was given a special place in the backyard. The children often used it as a clubhouse.
    “I’ll drop you off at the train station after lunch tomorrow,” said Grandfather. “Aunt Jane will be waiting for you when you arrive in