This gentle hour of tongue-in-cheek spookiness makes a pleasant alternative to standard Fringe theatrical fare.  It’s a promenade piece (which, be warned, involves quite a lot of stairs), devised especially for Scrivener’s bookshop – an eccentric second-hand bookseller and a fascinating destination in its own right.  It’s a smartly-chosen venue, too: with its warren-like attics and genuinely claustrophobic cellars, Scrivener’s is the perfect place to enjoy some ghostly goings-on.

Resplendent in bow tie and boater, our host Professor Tony Stoney makes an engaging tour guide, while his highly-strung assistant Miss Pringle provides much of the humour.  The relationship between the two of them is a recurring comic delight, and Miss Pringle also proves unusually susceptible to supernatural possession – a quality that delivers both laugh-aloud moments and some startling plot twists.

We the audience are called on to help too, often by opening a “haunted” book to uncover a surprise nestled within.  You’ll also get to eat ectoplasm (don’t worry, it’s delicious), summon spirits through the medium of reading aloud, and have a go at playing an unusual type of instrument.  This interactivity’s all well-judged, and nicely complements the simple but offbeat vignettes you’ll encounter along the way.

Needless to say, you will be meeting some ghosts, and their costumes are a particular highlight.  One spectre is clad in printed pages, while another is kitted out as a fine visual gag which it would simply be a crime to spoil.  I’ve no idea how that last actor sees out of his or her costume – but it must be possible, because if you wave at the ghosts, you’ll find they respond.

Underpinning all this tomfoolery is a genuine spine-tingler of a ghost story, with its roots in the great traditions of authors like MR James.  Set in the bookshop itself, the storyline is neatly developed throughout the hour, with subtle changes to the scenery around you helping reinforce the creepy sense that you’re sharing the world of the tale.  It felt like there was a little more mileage to be had here – on the night I attended, the story was quietly abandoned just as my nerves were starting to jangle – but perhaps the end of the tale is reserved for the scarier late-night version, which takes over this week from the kid-friendly edition I saw.

In the final analysis, The Ghosthunters’ Club isn’t the slickest or most tightly-plotted piece of theatre you’ll see this Fringe… but nor is it really meant to be.  It is what it is: an entertaining jape, with plenty of hands-on moments and a host of quirky details to enjoy.  It’s also the perfect response to a fascinating building – and more than that, it’s the kind of off-the-wall experience which all true Fringe lovers should cherish.