Mid-afternoon quiet had settled in the dining room of Manhattan's Midston House. Ten-year-old Cornelius Kaehane pushed in, walked to the cashier's desk, took two plastic toy pistols out of the pockets of his shabby lumberjacket. He stared at the young woman with his dirty face full of furious purpose. Nothing happened. Infuriated, he slammed one of his pistols down on the desk and cried, ''This is a stickup." A look of mild annoyance crossed the cashier's face. Cornelius stood on tiptoe, grabbed two ten-dollar and two one-dollar bills.
He wheeled wildly, found...
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