His appearance was that of a prisoner not yet recovered from the fright of arrest, or being taken to something dreadful--to torture or death.

The dignitaries helping him on the right and left, and the attention they gave him, made it clear that if he were not himself the object moving the party, he was at least in some way connected with the object--a witness or a guide, possibly an informer.

So if it could be found who he was the business in hand might be shrewdly guessed.

With great assurance, Ben-Hur fell in on the right of the priest, and walked along with him.

Now if the man would lift his head! And presently he did so, letting the light of the lanterns strike full in his face, pale, dazed, pinched with dread; the beard roughed; the eyes filmy, sunken, and despairing.
In much going about following the Nazarene, Ben-Hur had come to know his disciples as well as the Master; and now, at sight of the dismal countenance, he cried out, "The 'Scariot!" Slowly the head of the man turned until his eyes settled upon Ben-Hur, and his lips moved as if he were about to speak; but the priest interfered.
"Who art thou?
Begone!" he said to Ben-Hur, pushing him away.
The young man took the push good-naturedly, and, waiting an opportunity, fell into the procession again.