Beyond was the earth--gray clay, as Storri had said.

Seizing the little spade, London Bill threw a handful into the water; it was instantly dissolved and washed away.
"There's current enough," said London Bill, in a satisfied whisper, "to clear away the dirt as fast as I dig it, which is a chunk of luck my way." London Bill, being fairly launched upon his great work, crept into the drain every night and crept forth every morning, and the hours of his creeping were respectively eleven and four.

Through the day he lay in convenient, non-inquisitive lodgings, which he cared for himself.

London Bill did not go about the town, having no wish for company, being of the bloodhound inveterate breed that, once embarked upon an enterprise, does nothing, thinks nothing, save said enterprise until it is accomplished.
It was this dogged, single-hearted persistency, coupled with his cunning and his desperate courage, that made London Bill the foremost figure of his old but criminal guild of 'peter-men.
There was a rich man's son who infested the club; and, being a snob with a liking for noble nearnesses, Croesus Jr.

had wormed himself into Storri's regards as far as Storri would permit.