“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: 

“Who is there?  What do you want?”

“Is that your cat out on the wire?” asked Joe.

“Yes!  Oh, yes!  That’s Peter!  My favorite cat!  Oh, have you saved him?  Have you got him down?  No, you can’t have!  He’s out on that wire yet!” she cried.  And then she opened the door.

Joe was confronted by the same woman he had observed leaning from the window.  Her face was pale, and she was quite elderly.  But there was a kind and pathetic look about her eyes.  Once, she must have been beautiful.

Joe had no time to speculate on what might have been the romantic history of the woman.  She looked eagerly at him.

“What do you want?” she demanded.  “I never see any one.  I live here alone.  I must beg you to excuse me.  I have to see if some one will not, save my cat.”

“That is just what I came up for,” said Joe, smiling.  “I am a lover of animals myself.  I’d like to save your pet.”

“Oh, if you will, I’ll pay you the hundred dollars!” cried the woman.  “I have it!” she went on eagerly.  “It’s in here,” and she motioned to the rooms.  They were tastefully, but not lavishly, furnished.

“We’ll talk about that later,” said Joe, with a smile.  “The point is let me get the cat first.”

“But you can’t get him from here—­from these rooms!” the woman in black exclaimed.  “He’s out on the wire!  You’ll have to climb up in some way!  Oh, I don’t know how you can do it!” There were tears in her eyes and she clasped her hands imploringly.

“I can’t get your cat from the street,” said Joe.  “That’s why I came up here.  I must walk out on the wire from your window.  Have you a pair of slippers?  The older and softer the better—­slippers with thin, worn soles.”

“Why, yes, I have.  But you—­you can’t walk out on the wire!  It is too small, almost, for my cat!  You can’t do it!  It is impossible!”

“Oh, no,” answered Joe gently, “it isn’t impossible.  I have done it before.  If you’ll let me get to a window near which the wire is stretched, and if you will let me take a pair of old slippers.”

“Come in!” interrupted the eccentric old woman, opening wide the door.  “I don’t in the least know what you intend to do, but something seems to tell me I can trust you.  And if only you can save Peter—­”

“I’ll try,” said Joe simply.

The woman began to search frantically in a closet, throwing out shoes, dresses, and other feminine wearing apparel.  As she delved among the things, a shout arose from the street, the noise of the voices floating in through the open window.  Joe looked out.

“Oh, has Peter fallen?” cried the woman.