The bandage was still in place. A slight stain showed on it where blood had seeped through the material before the bleeding stopped. He leaned forward and sniffed lightly at the wound, then recoiled hurriedly, with an exclamation of disgust.
‘What is it?’ Horace asked quickly.
‘His arm. It smells foul. I think that might be where the trouble lies.’

Halt's Peril, Chapter 25