His little shadow is quite observant, which is something of a relief; he'd been wondering if they would be able to see the blood from where they were. It only takes a minute for someone who looks very much like a street urchin to come up to him, with a story guaranteed to provoke sympathy in all but the most hard-hearted.

The timing is too good, and the clothes are a little too nice (and he does know his clothes, naturally). He's certain this is the one who's been following him. He pauses, and smiles down at the boy.

"The British Museum?" he muses, slowly. His voice is a whisper -- a loud one, audible, but still a whisper. "Yes, of course. Don't worry, child, I will show you the way."

He makes a small gesture in the correct direction, motioning for the boy to come along with him.