"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…"