In the town of Maple Glade stood a tall clock tower. The market smelled of fresh buns and raspberries from Mrs Helena's stall. Zosia and Franek came to buy bread. With them walked the red-haired cat Cinnamon, its tail rising like a plume. The clock struck nine. One, two, three... While the last sound was still trembling in the air, something tiny rang softly: a ding. Zosia looked down at her feet. On the carpet of leaves was a silver bell on a blue ribbon. A note with a drawing was pinned to the ribbon. There were only three things in the picture: an owl, a shelf with three books on it and the face of a clock, on which the little hand stood evenly at twelve. - 'That looks like a plan,' whispered Zosia. - The owl... - Under the owl! - clapped Franek. - A bookshop! Cinnamon nudged the bell with his nose. Ding. As if he was happy. The bookshop Under the Owl was just around the corner, in a narrow alley smelling of print and warm dust. Above the door hung a wooden sign with an owl cut out and big glasses. As they entered, the shop bell rang out much like their little bell, only louder. The shelves stood thick, up to the ceiling. Books whispered quietly as someone moved them with a finger. - Good morning," said Zosia. - We're... er... watching. The lady in the navy blue jumper smiled from behind the counter and went back to arranging the postcards. The children looked around attentively. - A shelf with three books,' Franek reminded, wrinkling his nose. - But after all, there are a thousand of them here! - Maybe you mean shelf number three? - suggested Zosia and pointed to the tablet: Section three - Stories and pictures. They went between the shelves. Cinnamon stepped softly, carefully placing his paws, as if he heard something they did not. They stopped at a shelf that had three small dots painted on the side. The third from the bottom smelled of paint and pine. Zosia took out a piece of paper. - There was still a clock left. The hand on the twelve o'clock... I mean twelve o'clock. Franek looked at the dinosaur watch. - There's still a bit more to go. We can manage to wait. They sat down on a cloud-shaped pouffe. Zosia was flicking through a book about birds, in which an owl had eyes like two moons. Franek was leafing through an atlas of leaves and Cinnamon was perched on their backpacks, squinting his blinds. The bookshop smelled of vanilla and paper, and the smiling market was visible through the glass in the door. As time stretched on like a thread, Zosia put the bell on her hand. - I wonder if he knows something too - she muttered. The bell was silent, but it shone as if it was collecting light from a lamp. At last, somewhere far away, in the town square, the first full tone sounded: Bim... Then a second: Bam... Zosia and Franek jumped up, and Cinnamon raised his head. The clock was striking noon. Dzyń - the silver bell on Zosia's hand suddenly sounded, all by itself. Dzyń. Ding. Three times. At the same moment, the books on the third shelf trembled, as if someone had moved them from behind. One thick cover moved a hair's breadth away. A light breeze gushed from the shelf, warm, as if from a cooker of fairy tales. A narrow golden streak of light lit up between the volumes, as thin as a ribbon on a bell. - Can you see it? - whispered Franek. Zosia nodded her head. Something brass flashed between the books - a small, hidden handle. Cinnamon jumped off the pouffe and silently perched on the bookcase, wagging the end of his tail. The light flashed, as if inviting. Zosia reached out her hand to the doorknob and Franek tightened his fingers on the blue ribbon from the bell. In the silence, only Cinnamon's soft purring could be heard and a very, very distant whisper that seemed to come from the other side of the shelf....