This operation involved cleaning out one of the cat carriers and putting the cat's towel into it, then going into the Baby's room with a long plastic stick and gently poking the cat until he realized that the carrier was a good alternative. No, I'm not dumb enough to actually reach my hand under the bedside table after him.
Put the carrier next to the television in the living room, where he has access to the secluded kingdom of "Behind the TV." It's quiet there, since the tv is freaking huge and nobody can get to that five or six square feet of space, and the tv is never on. Opened the carrier door, put a dish of food and one of water near him and a blanket over the carrier so he'd feel safe and left him alone.
When the Baby came home, of course she wanted to meet the new kitty, but the Pirate came out of the kitchen and showed her his battle-damaged hand (trust me, it looks positively gruesome). I warned her that he wasn't ready to play just yet, and she was convinced by the Pirate's wounds that it would be wise to leave well enough alone. The Pirate mentioned that he was happy to be an object lesson for the children.
Once we were all firmly ensconced in our beds with the bedroom doors closed, the cat was on the move. A couple of times I could hear him digging at the carpet but a quick warning made him stop. He had been trying to get into the Baby's room and was outraged at being unable to do so. This morning when I got up, he was outside my bedroom door, and the minute I opened it he came in and was all over me as though I were his long-lost best friend. He allowed himself to be loved and petted, although he did make himself scarce once the girls were up.
Honestly, I hadn't expected him to make a public appearance for a week or more. I was ready to wait. I think this is a good sign.