The Exploits of Juve / Being the Second of the Series of the "Fantômas" Detective Tales

A bowl of claret, Father Korn.
The raucous voice of big Ernestine rose above the hubbub in the smoke-begrimed tavern.
Some claret, and let it be good, repeated the drab, a big, fair damsel with puckered eyes and features worn by dissipation.
Father Korn had heard the first time, but he was in no hurry to comply with the order.
He was a bald, whiskered giant, and at the moment was busily engaged in swilling dirty glasses in a sink filled with tepid water.
This tavern, The Comrades' Tryst, had two rooms, each with its separate exit. Mme. Korn presided over the first in which food and drink were served. By passing through the door at the far end, and crossing the inner courtyard of the large seven-story building, the second den was reached—a low and ill-lit room facing the Rue de la Charbonnière, a street famed in the district for its bad reputation.
At a third summons, Father Korn, who had sized up the girl and the crowd she was with, growled:
It'll be two moons; hand over the stuff first.
Big Ernestine rose, and pushing her way to him, began a long argument. When she stopped to draw a breath, Korn interposed:
It's no use trying that game. I said two francs and two francs it is.