Fortunately for himself he observed a pot of whitewash standing near a half-whitened wall, with a dirty canvas frock and a soiled billycock lying beside it.  The owner of the property had left it inopportunely, for, quick as thought, Miles wriggled into the frock, flung on the billycock, seized the pot, and walked in a leisurely way to the head of the alley.  He reached it just as the active little man turned into it, at the rate of ten miles an hour.  A yell of "Stop thief!" issued from the man's presumptuous lips at the moment.