One of the men shoots you an indignant glance. After looking pointedly toward the other end of the room, where the women are, he turns back to his friend.
BEARDED MAN: “Keep your voice down! My niece says that every word spoken in the Audience Hall can be heard in the purdah gallery, and is reported to the Sultan.”
YOUNGER MAN: “If you’re lucky.”
BEARDED MAN: “Yes. If you’re UNlucky, the Begum takes care of the matter herself.”
BEARDED MAN: “By the way, what became of that foreigner you were speaking with last week?”
BEARDED MAN: “I suppose you know there’s another man from your country visiting the Palace. My friend here spoke with him last week.”
YOUNGER MAN: “I believe he left. At least, I HOPE he left. I haven’t seen him since then.”
BEARDED MAN: “Best to say no more. One never knows who might be listening.”
The nearest man looks at you with something between suspicion and annoyance, before turning back to his companion.
BEARDED MAN: “Thank you, young man, but you’d best keep that for yourself.”
