The sorrows of young Dr Devorak

You haven't rested since the Countess showed you the desk where Dr Devorak used to work, you're desperately searching for a clue that isn't there.
You stop, your fingers brushing on rough paper. Is that a stack of... letters? They smell like leather, ink and desperation; they scream your name so loud you almost throw them away... how is that possible? You need to know. You pick one, the spidery handwriting you recognize as his sprawls on the page, and your eyes are hooked.