Hardly had Marcel finished pronouncing these words when two sentinels, posted outside the dark passage which he was about to enter, called out: "Montjoie, the King and Duke!" and almost at the same moment appeared John Maillart stepping forward. At the sight of his old friend, whose infamous treason he was now acquainted with, Marcel stopped indignant and the following exchange of words took place:
"Marcel," said the councilman in an imperious voice, "Marcel, what business brings you here at this hour? You should now be at the town-hall!"
"What business is that of yours," answered Marcel. "I am here to guard the safety of the town, whose government is in my hands."
"By God!" cried Maillart imperceptibly drawing nearer to Marcel. "By God! You cannot be here for anything good!" and turning to the two sentinels who stood motionless a few steps off: "You see it; Marcel holds in his hands the keys of the gate.... It is to betray us!"
"You miserable and abominable scamp," cried Marcel, "you lie in your throat!"
"No, traitor, it is you who lie!" replied Maillart, and suddenly raising a short axe that he had held concealed behind his back, he leaped with one bound at the provost crying: "To me, my friends! Death to Marcel! Death to him and his partisans! They are all traitors!" Before Jocelyn or Philip Giffart could foresee and parry the sudden charge, Maillart dealt so furious a blow at Marcel's head that he staggered and fell bathed in blood.
At Maillart's cry, "To me, my friends!" the passageway, until then dark, was suddenly illumined by several lanterns that had been kept under the cloaks of their carriers. By the glimmering light a large number of men were seen, all armed with pikes, halbards and cutlasses. Among them were the Sire of Charny, the knight James of Pontoise and the councilman Pierre Dessessarts. Hardly had Marcel dropped under the axe of Maillart than the troop of assassins issued forth from their ambuscade, and crying: "Montjoie, the King and Duke!" precipitated themselves upon the provost to despatch him. Marcel, his skull cleaved in two and his face covered with blood, sought to regain his feet with the help of Jocelyn and Philip Giffart. These made heroic efforts to defend the wounded man, but they were soon thrown down with him and all three riddled with sword thrusts and axe blows. The other governors and several of their partisans, who were posted in reserve at a nearby house where they were to await the issue of Marcel's rendezvous with the King of Navarre, hearing the increasing tumult and cries of "Montjoie, the King and Duke!" rushed to the gate of St. Antoine intending to come to the aid of the provost. Their red and blue head-covers pointed them out to the fury of the murderers. Their heroic defence was soon overcome and they were all butchered like their chief. But the rage of Maillart and of the Sire of Charny was not yet appeased.
"To death with all the enemies of our Sire, the Regent!" cried the seigneur. "We know where they are burrowing. Let us run to their houses. We shall kill them in their beds!"
"To death!" responded John Maillart brandishing his axe. "To death with the partisans of Marcel! To death with all the communiers!"
"Montjoie, the King and Duke!" repeated in chorus the armed band. "Death to the red and blue!"