What? Who is behind you?" I shouted, staring up at the grey mass of the sandhill without spying anything in the least bit threatening. Nothing showed itself to me that could justify the boundless consternation and the daring flight of the individual still sitting up in the sand in front of me, a rather portly individual extremely well-dressed.

"Who is behind you? No-one as far as I can see! So tell me! Who's after you? What prompted you to jump like that? I really can't see anything at all up there!"

"There is! There is! There's the moon—Luna—Selene! No, not Luna and Selene, but that moon, that damnable German moon! It's going up behind the mud flats as we speak and will, in a few minutes time, be up there over the dune behind me! And there's no cover here, no shelter—not even an umbrella—and quarter of an hour to wait for the next omnibus before we can seek refuge. It'll be the death of me!"

I usually carry an umbrella with me and this day was no exception. But the stranger in his distraught state had not noticed it and before I offered it to the aforementioned fool, I naturally gave the matter some consideration.

It was clear to me, juridically clear, that I was in the presence of a madman and, quickly composing myself, I thought over how, under such circumstances, I ought to behave towards him. Should I abandon the man to his fate, unable as I was to change one iota of his idiosyncratic imaginings, and leave it up to his keepers to capture him, or should I strike up a conversation with him and, at the risk of ending up having unpleasant differences of opinion in the process, try to get a better understanding of his situation?

As a human being I should have preferred the former; as a lawyer and a criminologist I opted for the latter. I yielded to temptation and carried on talking to him.

"My dear fellow," I said, "if you believe that being under an umbrella will protect you against your enemy, please make use of mine. Take my arm."

I had already opened up the silk umbrella and the lunatic had jumped up in the air with a joyful shout.

"Heaven, sir, has led me here to you!"

He took hold of my arm and, tipping his hat to me, said:

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Löhnefinke, Circuit Judge to the Royal Court of Prussia at Gross-Fauhlenberg in the province of…"

I sprang away from him dumbfounded:

"That isn't possible!"

"Sir?"

"You? You, who to escape the moon rising just dashed headfirst down that sand dune at the risk of breaking your neck, you are Circuit Judge Löhnefinke? It isn't possible!"

"But I am he! If you can call it a pleasure, I do have the pleasure of being the person so named."

I mastered myself with difficulty inasmuch as I now had this to say to myself, namely that it was beyond all doubt now that I was in the presence of a madman with more than one fixed idea. The unfortunate wretch does not just see the moon as his enemy, but sees himself as someone else.

"Yes, my name is Löhnefinke and I would consider it an honour if you would now acquaint me with yours."

What could I do? I introduced myself and gave my name and title. The lunatic immediately tipped his hat to me again, grasped my hand, shook it warmly and said:

"Oh, my dear colleague, see how fate brings people together! Quarter of an hour ago I wouldn't even have dreamt of it, truly. So we've known each other now for a good length of time. Cast your mind back! Did we not in the case of Johann Peter Müller, the self-styled leader of the gypsies from Langensalza, exchange rulings and engage in professional correspondence? You do remember that case, don't you? Oh, how pleased it makes me!"

Was it a dream or was it reality? Was this man crazy or was it me?

This was indeed how things stood and I could remember quite clearly there and then all my correspondence with the Royal Prussian Court of Justice in Gross-Fauhlenberg. And my singular companion (already we were walking next to each other) did not stop at simply stating these facts, no. He immediately immersed himself in all the finer details of the case in point, setting out verbally all the considerations that he had previously put in writing and I answered him as if there were really no more doubt as far as I was concerned that he really was the Royal Prussian court official he claimed to be and really was called Löhnefinke. The full moon had in the meantime climbed up in the sky to the east of us and was shining directly down on our heads without my companion being in the least concerned about it. Strolling towards the bathing beach of Westerland arm in arm we became more and more absorbed in talking shop and let the moon shine down as much as it liked. We had almost reached the men's bathing huts and were nearing the steps that lead up from the beach to the top of the dunes when my colleague, who, despite his earlier exaltation had just shown himself to be an extremely clear and perceptive legal mind, all of a sudden, getting stuck in the sand, looked round, looked up and, becoming as pale as a ghost, groaned:

"Ye gods, we're back in the middle of it again!"

No doubt about it—we were back in the middle of it again. The fixed idea grabbed hold of the poor man afresh as he hysterically and anxiously pulled my outstretched umbrella down so that it rested on his hat and I could do nothing more for Circuit Judge Löhnefinke than to tighten my grip on his elbow and to speak to the squirming and struggling man in an admonitory tone of voice:

"But my dear sir, please! Compose yourself! Compose yourself! This crackpot behaviour of yours is too much. How has this harmless source of light actually wronged you? Or what have you done to wrong it? Show some sense and convince yourself of this: this innocent satellite shows no sign whatsoever of falling on our heads."

"My head hurts! My head hurts!" groaned the judge, holding the part of the body in question with both hands.

"Come on now. Nobody's chasing you. Nobody's after you. Your reaction is quite unnecessary. Don't take what I say amiss."

"Nobody? Nobody?" groaned Löhnefinke.

"Nobody! I'll tell you what—let's go up there. We'll find people in that restaurant, conviviality, some beverage or other to cheer us up and definitely a paraffin lamp which will put your enemy, male or female, in the shade."

"Paraffin!" Löhnefinke muttered to himself, catching hold of and holding onto the word like a guilty man in the high court a cry of 'Amnesty'?

"Listen. There's still a brass band playing up there. How about we sit down for a while to imbibe a glass of grog and…"

"…wait for the moon to go down? Yes. That would be the right thing to do."

"But we'll have a long wait, I'm afraid. The moon doesn't set until past quarter to seven tomorrow morning, but, if it's any consolation, dark clouds are rising from the sea and we can wait until one of those clouds comes to cover the moon as it surely will."

"Yes. I take your point. I'll willingly, only too willingly, go along with your suggestion. Colleague, I'm entirely under your guardianship. We'll go to this watering hole, wait till a cloud masks that grinning monstrosity and drink the odd grog while we do so!" opined the worked-up Prussian civil servant. And so we ascended the steep steps, arrived, without having broken our necks, at the top of them and turned right through the dune grass towards the illuminated pavilion on the links, loud with blaring music and packed out with spa outpatients.