"Perhaps I can!" said Joe modestly.
He started toward the street entrance of the old building, from the upper window of which leaned the pathetic figure of the woman calling to her cat out on the swaying wire.
"Oh, Joe," Helen began, "are you really going to—" and then she stopped.
"I am!" he answered, for he knew she understood. "Wait here for me. I won't be long."
Only a few in the crowd had heard what Joe said, or understood his intentions as he made his way through the press of people. The woman at the window was unaware of the fact that some one had heard her and was about to heed her appeal.
"A hundred dollars to whoever saves my cat!" she cried again.
This time no one laughed.
Joe Strong, acrobat, athlete, magician, and possessed of many other muscular accomplishments started up the stairs. The lower part of the office building was deserted at this hour, but he made his way to the place where he judged the woman lived alone. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing from behind a closed door the barking and whining of dogs.
"She must keep a regular menagerie," mused Joe. "Probably these are all the friends she has, poor old lady!"
He knocked on a door that seemed to be the entrance to the living apartments. There was a cessation of the barking and whining, and a moment later a querulous voice asked: