There’s no real mystery, here, either, except for the one of Jean’s past that John tries to piece together bit by bit. There’s no real feeling of terror that the reader feels (except maybe for one scene at the end) while reading this book. It’s not an historical novel, nor is it a novel of suspense.
I’ve read I believe six of Daphne Du Maurier’s novels now, and I can honestly say that this is different from the others.
After a few drinks too many, the Englishman, John, wakes in the morning to find that the Frenchman, Jean, has stolen his identity-and that John must take his doppelganger’s place, as the Count de Gue and the master of a failing estate, family, and glass making company.
The Scapegoat is the story of two men, identical in appearance, who meet by chance in a train station one day.
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